Chapter 5 - "Who talks first?"

Jakku

The Goazan Badlands

The air had frozen still, as though a perpetual tension had taken by the throat. The room and its occupants had become their own entity, cut off from the rest of the galaxy. It wasn't fear though that gripped Eighty-Seven's mind but only a heightened sense of things. The sheen of sweat poured down the fighter pilots brow, his eyes burning with a single minded intensity in his eyes; the rock-steadiness of his hand pointing the blaster at him.

Eighty-Seven wondered again if he was dead. If he had died outside with his men, and this was a trick of his dying brain. After all, why hadn't he shot him dead yet? It was a good lie, but that was all it was. He had the temptation though to make it real. Drop his weapon, and die like he should have.

But he couldn't; his instinct held him steady like a statuary. He wondered how long they'd been standing there, how long he'd been thinking about this. Seconds? Minutes? Why hadn't the pilot taken the shot? He was open, he could do it now and he knew he'd be too slow. So why didn't he do it?

He searched his eyes, seeing fear and anger in them. But there was something else, something he couldn't identify. Something that kept him from shooting. The child suddenly whimpered. Eighty-Seven flinched, his head tilting over to look her filthy face covered in tears and soot. She'd been crying so much her eyes were red.

Eighty-Seven had never seen children like this before. Yes, his brothers and sisters were children once, but it wasn't the same. There was innocence in her.

Weakness, the voice of Phasma barked in his head. He cursed himself, certain that now that he was going to die. He had wasted seconds and presented the perfect window. The pilot would take his shot and he would fall like he should've outside. But it didn't happen.

The pilot was looking at the family, the mother staring at him. How long had he'd been doing this? As long as him? Before? After? He was just as exposed as he was, and Eighty-Seven could put him down long before he could react. But he didn't.

"Why?"

He hadn't realized he'd said it outloud. The Pilot turned back to him, his weapon raised with a curious question written on his face. Then he lowered his weapon. Eighty-Seven couldn't help but do the same.

Coward, Phasma's voice spat venom, but he wasn't listening. He watched as the pilot turned his back on him, pulling the family away as they stared uncertainly at Eighty-Seven. The Pilot looked back at him and nodded. He disappeared through the door, leaving Eighty-Seven standing behind in the room.

"Why?" he asked himself again, "Why?"

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The initial shock of seeing an old lunatic with a lightsaber quickly died within minutes of his running engagement. While there was still fear and the mild suspicion of what they might be dealing with being chatted through the comm's, a collective discipline and coordination took over. Squads began reporting his sightings and within a minute the Lieutenant was able to narrow down where Lor San was and where he was going. While there was an apparent randomness to his attacks as if he was just engaging whatever target crossed his path, it quickly became clear he was sticking to the western part of the village complex by a block by block radius. With reports of other hostiles being in the vicinity, his purpose became fairly clear.

As such, it became fairly straight-forward to simply corral the opposition with a few squads at each access point while the rest of the village was mopped up. Still, the battle had been nothing short of costly. The very fact they couldn't sweep the area with TIE Punishers meant that they had to deal with the full brunt of the enemy defenses. Echo-Three-One had been wiped out to a man, and almost every squad in the company had suffered 25% casualties. Echo-Two-One was still, however, unaccounted for after their comm's had cut out once they'd reached the eastern side of the village.

"Sir," his Comm. Officer suddenly reported over the line, "the Reapers have reported a complete sweep of the area. They're requesting new orders, sir."

"Good. Tell them to advance onto," he pulled up the map display in his HUD, "sector G-4-9. Target and an unknown number of hostiles are entrenched. Set RoE to lethal, but the target must be taken alive."

Six Troopers. That was how many of the blasted invaders Lor San had managed to cut down before they'd withdrawn. The bedraggled and battered survivors around him, still willing fight on despite many of their grievous injuries, cheered his success.

"You damn well scared 'em off, Mr. Tekka!"

Lor San, however, could only shake his head. The enemy had withdrawn merely to regroup, and even now he could make out sentries posted on the outskirts of the hamlet he'd chosen to make his stand. Though depleted in fighting strength, the positioning and the sheer tenacity of the defenders ensured the Troopers would pay a dear price for every yard they took. Despite this, Lor San and his fellows were trapped, and it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed.

The old man sighed, and rested his aged frame against the ruined wall. The end, he knew, was utterly inevitable, he was glad of it. He hadn't been there at the end when the enemy had descended upon the Jedi at the Academy. He hadn't been there to fight and die for the people who had given him back a sense of purpose... maybe he could've even saved a few by trading his own life for theirs.

But now? Now he'd gotten his chance. He smiled tiredly to himself. He might've been three years late, but he would get the death he'd been longing for. Better still, it would have purpose. Poe or at least his droid might be able to escape while he kept the enemy busy.

He stared at the men who'd come to this world at his request. Who'd labored day and night to uncover its secrets, and now were ready to fall so that others may live. Many of them had fought side by side with the Old Order during the Clone Wars, and when Luke Skywalker called for their service again, the Antarian Rangers answered without hesitation.

They had no fear of death. They were prepared to sell their lives for a better tomorrow; a galaxy made free.

"Children," Lor San spoke with the softest of whispers that resonate the loudest with them, "let us pray."

The men nodded, falling to their knees regardless of injury, their blasters held like banners as Lor San raised his hands to the air above. Together, they chanted:

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I shall know no fear, for the Force shall guide me. There is no death, there is only the Force. I am one with the Force, and the Force shall keep me."

Lor San opened his eyes, an aura of burning passion radiating from them. "Let us make thirteen fight like a hundred. Bless your weapons. For today, we honor the Jedi."

They heard the thundering sound of heavy footfalls approaching. The men rose, shouldering their weapons as Lor San activated his lightsaber. "Today, we earn our forgiveness."

Seconds later, the Reaper Droids came crashing through the side of their villa in a shower of smoke and sand. In the confusion of the moment, the point automaton bellowed in its monotone manner, "'Drop your weapons. You have fifteen seconds to-'"

Lor San responded by hacking off its arm with the lightsaber before burying it into the chest of the mechanical monstrosity. However, the Reaper did not fall, cranning its curious head down at the old man before it struck him in the head with a loud crack! Lor San fell to his knees, his brain swimming but he refused to let go of the saber. He took it and swung sideways, chopping the Reaper in two.

As it fell, the droid clutched at his robes and dragged him down with him. Lor San quickly finished it off by decapitating its head. Soon after, more droids came smashing through the villa, and the Rangers opened fire from every corner. Bolts and rockets were exchanged, the walls crumbling all around them. Though severely outmatched, the Rangers fought with everything they had; resorting to stones and their bare hands when they ran out of alternatives.

The end, however, was inevitable. One by one, the Rangers were dispatched; falling lifeless to the floor beside their comrades. Lor San, by intention, was the last to be handled. Lor San wildly swung his blade at them as they closed in. Hands and a few limbs were lopped off in the effort, but he eventually made the mistake of slamming his blade through one of the droid's torso.

Effectively disarmed, the Droid plucked him by his robes and held him high into the air while with its free hand it removed the saber from its chest. "'Reaper 19734 to Lieutenant FN-3456. Target has been acquired.'"

On the other side of the comm. Line, the officer nodded triumphantly as the image of the struggling old man came into his HUD. He then turned to his Comm. Officer, pride heavy in his voice.

"Contact the Ravager. Tell them Lor San Tekka has been apprehended."

They heard the ship coming long before they actually saw it. A looming black silhouette blanketed the night sky, appearing like a great terrestrial monster bird from folk legend. As the Upsilon-Class Command Shuttle made its touchdown, it's largely expansive wings folded upward like a perching bat.

A moment later, a loud hiss echoed from the vessel as the hydraulic ramp clattered to the ground as an unmistakable figure aproached.

"Sith," Lor San snarled in a hushed whisper. Tall, powerfully built and draped in pitch black robes and a cloak stained red from the planet's soil, the man loomed over the gathering before him like divinity. His mask was formulated like a skull, gazing out from hollow sunken slits. Hooded, it gave the man a rather foreboding countenance.

A sudden feeling of cold bit into Lor San's bones despite the warmth of the evening. He did not have the Force, but he didn't need it to know. The Dark Side was with this man. It was… a part of him. And in this, the fire of rage buried deep in the old man's heart blazed, and yet he felt the cold dagger of guilt cut deeply as he did.

"Lord Ren," Captain Phasma in her chrome armor echoed as she slammed her fist into her chest in salute followed by the rest of the company, "welcome to Jakku."

"Thank you, Captain," Kylo Ren replied, his voice distorted by the mask. As he stood before Lor San, the old man felt something he hadn't felt before. To most, even to his Jedi colleagues, he was a man born without fear. Some even accused him of recklessness. But here, staring into the warped form of the boy he'd once known, he felt the cold sensation crawl up his spine.

"Look how old you've become," the Sith remarked. Lor San could almost feel the smirk through the helm.

"Something far worse has happened to you, boy," Lor San retorted sharply.

The Sith chuckled softly. "I see your wit hasn't aged. But let's not stand on ceremony here, Master Tekka. I know what you found, and you know you're going to give it to me one way or another."

Lor San rose despite the protest of his wounds, standing face to face with him. Sharp defiance was painted on his weathered face as his spat back.

"You are far too late, Sith. The knowledge you seek has long since been buried beneath these sands. What you seek cannot be found."

"That is rather unbecoming of you, Master Tekka. A man who dedicates his life to the pursuit of knowledge would then so callously throw it away?"

"No less unbecoming than you. I know where you come from. I know who you were before you called yourself Kylo Ren. You've truly fallen far from the boy I once taught."

Kylo Ren shook his head dismissively, his tone becoming impatient.

"I am not here for a lecture, old man. And you never were a good liar," he brushed past him, peering out at the men cowering before him and at the village burning ahead, "after all, why would you defend this place so vigorously if there was nothing to hide?"

Kylo took the old man's silence as an acknowledgement. "No, you wouldn't disregard knowledge so valuable, not when we both know who sent you here in the first place."

"I do not know where he is," Lor San countered, but Kylo shook his head.

"I doubt he would be clumsy enough to entrust that knowledge with you. And… that is not why I'm here. Nor why you are here."

He then turned to Captain Phasma, who stiffened slightly from his presence. "Tell me, Captain, was there not a distinctive fighter discovered not far from here?"

"Indeed, sir," Phasma replied, "disabled, but the pilot and astromech were not recovered."

"And we both know who sent this pilot to you," Kylo turned back to the old man, "don't we, Master Tekka?"

Lor San's face stiffened into a snarl, "He is far away from here by now. The deserts of this world are vast. Even you will not be able to find him."

"I disagree."

Getting out of the village had proven tougher than imagined. The Stormtroopers had long since cordoned off the perimeter with tightly knit patrols. Alone, Poe might've been able to sneak past them, but with a family in his care he hadn't wanted to take the chance. Instead, they hunkered down in the destroyed remains of a hut, concealed as the enemy brushed past them with prisoners. Among them had been Lor San Tekka.

Part of him longed to break cover and rescue him. But doing that would just get him and the family killed. No, he knew the old man's fate was sealed. Soon enough, the First Order would cart away their prisoners and he would be able to make his way into the night and hopefully find BB-8. After that, someplace to get them off world.

That however changed with the arrival of Kylo Ren. Poe cursed the fact he didn't have his cam-corder or BB-8 for that matter. There'd been rumors for years about some cult of Force-wielding fanatics hiding out in the Unknown Regions, but there hadn't been any substantiated proof of their existence. More importantly, there hadn't been any proof that they were working with the First Order. Now there was.

However, this would be dismissed as the eyewitness of an officer of the New Republic Navy operating in the Demilitarized Sector under the orders of a politician. With a recording though… he stopped himself. He had to get out of here first. One of the children squirmed and her mother was quick to silence her. She gave Poe a hurried look and he nodded.

He just hoped the enemy would be happy enough with just having Lor San and leave. That assumption was proven wrong.

"He is far away from here by now," Lor San declared from across the way, "the deserts of this world are vast. Even you will not be able to find him."

"I disagree," then suddenly Kylo Ren turned in his direction. Poe's heart stopped; was he looking at him? Was he just looking in that direction? In either case, Poe tightened his grip on the F-11 and brought it to firing position. He heard the family duck behind cover as he did this, and part of him wondered if he should just make a run for it right now.

Kylo Ren turned his back and faced the old man again. "In fact, I think the man is here in this village. I think he's close, watching us. After all, as you once said, he mistakes gallantry for foolhardiness."

The look of horror on Lor San's face was all Poe needed. He took the shot. Aimed at the man's head, the crimson bolt could move faster than any normal man could even possibly think. But then the unthinkable happened. The bolt stopped. It was literally floating there, frozen in place right between two startled Stormtroopers who backed away from the burning plasma trail.

And there on the other end was Kylo Ren with his hand extended. He chuckled, "You're pretty good. But not good enough."

Poe got ready to take a shot. Kylo extended his other hand and before Poe could even twitch his trigger finger he was sent flying. No, not sent. Pulled. He was being pulled by some invisible hand dragging him along the ground until he was at the feet of the Kylo Ren.

"There you are. So thoughtful for you to join us."

Poe chuckled softly as he pushed himself off the ground, "Didn't have much choice."

His heart sank when he turned around. The family he'd been shielding had been pulled with him.

"Sentiment is… admirable," Kylo Ren interrupted his guilt-ridden stewing with an almost apologetic tone, "but in war, it only costs you."

Poe glared up at the man as he rose to his knees, putting forth every ounce of defiance he had into his cold staring eyes. It was little more than bravado at this point, but it was all he had left. Kylo Ren then knelt before him, studying his face for a long, uncomfortable moment. Poe could feel something there in the dark, scratching at his psyche, and it seemed to grow in intensity the longer he stared at the masked man. Maybe it was the tension of the moment… but he suspected what it really was.

"So," he asked with a smile, "who talks first? You talk first, I talk first?"

"Your sense of humor hasn't changed a bit," Kylo suddenly chuckled, "you're a long way from Antiga Primar, Commander Dameron."

Poe's eyes widened, but then it softened into a smirk.,"What's the bounty on my head nowadays? 20,000?"

"Fifteen actually. Search him."

The Troopers stood him up, rummaging through his flight suit as Kylo rose and faced Lor San again, whose face had melted into mournful defeat.

"I doubt you would be stupid enough to give it to him directly, otherwise he wouldn't be here," Kylo then turned back to Poe, "which means the information is in your droid. Where is it?"

Poe's smile grew wider. "Y'know, it's kinda hard to understand you with all the apparatus."

Kylo cocked his head, amused. "Your will is impressive. It'll take time to break you. But as Master Tekka so generously pointed out, the deserts here are vast. Which means I have all the time in the universe."

"Good luck with that. You ain't getting anything out of me."

"We shall see," he then gestured to the Troopers beside him, "put him on board."

"Tell me something!" Lor San growled as he rose back to his feet, coming so close to the Knight of Ren the Troopers raised their blasters on him, but Kylo gestured them to stand down.

"And that is, old man?"

"Was it easy?"

The question seemed to stun the man. He froze on the spot, gazing out at him unspeaking. Lor San's eyes narrowed as he continued, the venom in his voice barbed to the point.

"Tell me that much. Was it easy to turn on them? To slaughter your own family? To betray everything you once stood for? Was it?"

Kylo did not speak, he placed his hand on Lor San's shoulder, his grip almost… familial. Then a blood thirsty hiss was heard and the villagers screamed. Kylo stood there, staring into the horrified eyes of his teacher as he opened his mouth one last time to speak. All that was heard was the sudden exhaust of air as he took his last mortal breath.

Kylo felt cold as he cradled his body, staring into Lor San's lifeless face as he set him down the desert floor.

"No... it wasn't," he whispered.

"Sir," Phasma reported behind him, "the villagers?"

"Our orders?"

Her voice was flat, her response immediate, "No witnesses."

Kylo nodded, saying in a lifeless voice, "Carry them out, then."

She nodded simply. "On my command."

The Troopers then swarmed around the villagers, forming a firing line as they corralled the villagers against the wall.

"Ready."

"Please!" a woman pleaded, "Not my children! Please, not them! I beg you!"

"Aim."

"You're gonna burn for this!" a man shouted from the crowd, "Yer grandpappies couldn't beat us! Same gonna happen to you!"

Phasma chuckled softly, responding curtly, "We are not our grandfathers."

She then raised her arm, and brought it crashing down like an executioner's axe. The air suddenly turned out, glowing scarlet as the valley echoed with thunderous reports. Screams were sudden, piercing with pain but in the end… brief. Their bodies hung for a moment before settling to the sand, sprawled in their lifeless state. The Troopers stared at their work for a moment before about-facing and making their way to their transports.

All except for one.

Eighty-Seven stared at the bodies, at what he had just done.

"FN-2187," Phamsa's voice suddenly cut across his channel as she appeared behind him. He did not move. He felt the Captain's hand on his shoulder as she beckoned him to turn. She stared at him for a moment before she nodded solemnly, taking him by the shoulder.

"Let's go home, Trooper."

"...yes ma'am," he whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear himself say it. As they marched back towards the transports, something made Eighty-Seven lookup. He didn't know what it was. A feeling, something… gravitating. He saw Lord Ren looking at him.

He craned his head curiously, watching him pass him by. Strange as it was, Eighty Seven didn't care when he entered the transport, nor when he was strapped into his seat. Nor when the ship took off and departed the planet. All he could do was stare at the world fast leaving their rearview mirror. All he could do was shake his head.

He had failed.