5/15/2

This time, they're waiting for the ship to land and the hatch to open.

Rey is standing next to Kylo, both of them in their new, fancy Handsome Prince and his Lady wear, with Jon on Kylo's left, and Ellie on Rey's right, watching the flagship of the Queen of New Alderaan, the Aldera hover gently into its place.

Threepio stands slightly behind Rey, and she can feel a wave of satisfaction off of him. Apparently, this… all of this (though right now, all of this is a busy landing bay) took a lot of conversation and meetings and thinking and…

There's an image in Threepio's mind. It's a thousand lines of troops in perfect armor: white, and black and red, on a different landing bay, though one built of black metal and white accents, like this one, waiting to honor a visiting dignitary. The Emperor. Maybe Lord Vader. It's a common image, blasted over newsies galaxy-wide.

And it's exactly not what's happening here.

There are men in Order uniforms all over this bay, but they're in the soft gray and blue and black cloth uniforms that Order people who are not in combat now wear. No one in easy view has their face covered by masks. No one is protected by layers of plexiplast armor.

The First Order may have looked like the Empire slightly dusted off and retooled, but the Order isn't, and won't be, that.

There are times that Rey's glad not to be the power behind the diplomatic wing of the Order, because fussing over which landing bay to use, and how to dress it up to send exactly the correct message to everyone landing on it seems exhausting.

Especially, since, as she looks around, they're all kind of big, and black and gray, and this one is bustling with traffic, but it doesn't seem much different from any other landing bay on the Supremacy. For all she knows, this could be the one that she landed in when she shipped herself to Kylo.

It's not. He thinks to her. He knows exactly where they were when he stood, alone in a crowd, waiting for a tiny escape pod to land. "Why did we fuss about this, again?" Kylo asks out loud, willing to voice the thought she wasn't.

"Because, Master, our human logistical situation is not nearly as convenient as New Alderaan's. We could have had them land one floor up from your courtyard and office, but that would have meant an extremely long trip, in a lift, to get to their apartments."

Kylo nods at that. They're about half an hour from his office, and a good ten minutes of that is tracking across the ship. Being closer would be convenient for him, but, like when Rey visited New Alderaan, they'll accompany the New Alderaan delegation to their own rooms, and an hour in a lift, staring at not much of anything, doesn't seem like an ideal way to accomplish that. He knows that part of formal dinners is the fact that food provides at least something neutral and easy to talk about. The black and white walls of a lift… Not so much.

That said, as best he can figure, they're at least a twenty minute lift ride away from the delegation's rooms, so… Better, but not amazing.

"So, we're here specifically, because?" Kylo asks.

It's clear to Rey that he's fairly sure why they're here, but it's something to talk about, something that doesn't involve starting to feel nervous as they just stand there, waiting for the hatch to open. She takes his hand in hers, and gives it a little squeeze.

"We are here, sir, because this particular landing bay is in full use and offers a… view… of what we can provide to those who might want it." Threepio sounds very satisfied by that.

This particular landing bay is not one of their military bays. This one is a transport and logistical bay. Food, people, things… Some of the literally millions of tons of freight that go through this ship per week come in and out of here. And they're going to spend at least ten minutes walking through it, seeing ship after ship after ship after ship… The Supremacy may not be beautiful on any functional level, but it's an economic powerhouse, (even if it is bleeding credits.) and most people want to be near, or working with, the powerhouse.

He wonders if maybe one of the things they could do for New Alderaan is with some sort of exclusive contract for food production. He and his go through hundreds of tons of it per hour, and New Alderaan grows it, so that might be something they'd like… Assuming the credits don't bounce…

"Likewise, the lack of visible armed guards around you will… not exactly broadcast ideas of peace, but it's still a good idea to show off that you are a leader who will, at least in an area he controls, walk through a public space with your face bare and unarmed."

It occurs to Kylo that that may be a rare thing. Even in one's own capitol, it's common for important people to have security. Hell, his mom had Poe trailing around all the time, so… That's the sort of thing that could be impressive, he supposes.

Another layer of Ellie's 'Don't fuck with Master Ren,' Rey thinks to him.

He smiles a bit at that. The number of rulers who can bring his level of skill to a fight are likely extremely few and far between.

"Just like we brought guards with us, they will, too, right?" Rey says.

"I'm sure they will have an entourage very similarly staffed to the one we brought," Threepio replies. "Possibly larger because they're bringing the Queen, Lord Organa, who recently added Ambassador to the Order to his list of titles, The Viceroy, Queen Heloise's father, and General Bail Antillies, Colonel Jefferie's counterpart in the legal department. That said, they will not miss the fact that we are currently not ensconced in 'entourage.'"

There's something important there, and it takes Rey a moment to find it. "When the Queen greeted us, there were almost fifty people with her. How many were security?"

If he could smile, Threepio would. "Exactly, Lady Ren." He looks at their truncated group. "This is a power move. In peaceful, serene New Alderaan, the leader must keep body guards near, though hidden among her servants. Here, in the cold, harsh Order, our leaders are secure enough to walk alone. It's… fitting, I think."

Kylo approves of that. He offers Threepio a genuine smile, which seems to confuse the droid.

Then Rey catches something she missed earlier. "The Viceroy is coming?"

Threepio tuts. "Apparently, Helene decided it was… unfitting… for the Queen to leave Alderaan on her own."

"Does this… scramble our plans?" Rey asks.

Threepio doesn't smile. He can't. He feels pleased, though there's a sort of testing to this, as well, "I'm sure you and Master Ren will come up with some way to ease the Queen away from the Viceroy when the time comes."

Well, that's not ominous, Kylo thinks to her.

Not at all, she replies, squeezing his hand.

Heloise Talmaalsh, Queen of Alderaan, waits in her ship. She looks calm and collected. Granted, she's so practiced at that look, that she'd likely look calm and collected if she were being dissected alive as a science experiment.

The hatch to her ship opens, and she gets the first whiff of the Order as the mechanically refreshed atmo on board rushes into her own ship.

The acrid tang of mechanical work, fuel, lubricating oil, exhaust, burnt… something… Under and through it, a faint organic smell of people. At least something lives here. From her current position, all she can see is metal floors, and metal ships, and metal walls, and her men marching out to flank her line of descent.

Once her men are out, she nods to her father, to Helene, and to Samanth, before standing and strolling out.

It's… enormous.

She felt that way about the Supremacy as a whole, too. It was bigger than any ship has any right to be. And in the privacy of her own mind, she's willing to admit it was actually scary to when one moment they were queued up with all the other ships, sky clear, and the next they were in full dark because the Supremacy had just appeared from nowhere. Then they pulled up closer and closer to the landing bay, seeing everything around them vanish in a sheer cliff of black metal.

And somehow, in here, on just one floor, it's bigger yet. This one floor may be bigger, in terms of square kilometers, than their capitol city is. And it's just the one floor. The report she was able to find on the Supremacy said there are fifty-three levels, though not all of them are the full sixty by twenty kilometers.

Samanth nudges her, and says, voice quiet, "I felt the same way." The population of the Order is only about a third again that of New Alderaan, though it's growing significantly faster, but the bulk of it is here, on this one ship, all around them, right now.

It's staggering.

But the Queen of New Alderaan is not allowed to be staggered. She takes her father's hand, slaps the smile on her face, and heads down the ramp.

Kylo rarely wonders what outsiders think of his ship. Mostly because… well, that would involve being interested in things he's generally just not.

But he's getting a headfull of it right now.

The only person of the New Alderaan delegation who thinks quietly is Heloise, and if he focused less on the Viceroy or Samanth, he'd have no trouble getting the ideas off the top of her head.

But the Viceroy is thinking… shifty things. She's watching Threepio, subtly, cataloging everything he's done here today, understanding his message, more clearly than Kylo is, and on several more levels than he'd thought of them.

For example, Kylo understood that not landing the New Alderaan delegation on a military bay was about showing off economic power. And it is. It's also about making sure that should Helene have a little chat with some less peaceful players, or some that aren't too friendly to the Order, that she can't accidentally chat about what she saw.

The only details she can let slip are ones about how strong the Order is. About how much comes into it. She can talk about supplies and people, and things all streaming into the Order. She can make them look more powerful than they are.

Deeper level. The real power players that are left in the galaxy know that economic power lasts longer and ripples further than military power. Take down the Order, and everyone who does business with it will be annoyed at the loss of those credit streams. As long as they keep paying, instead of taking, everyone they pay has a reason to keep them in the game.

Likewise, none of her navigators can talk about how they found the Supremacy. The Alderaan delegation, and a collection of other ships, all met at an assigned spot, one they were given when they took off, and the Supremacy came to them. Late. It came to them about ten minutes after it was supposed to.

The Viceroy, Helene, glances to the view of the sky outside the landing bay. Stars are streaking past in hyperspeed again.

She knows they took that time to make sure no one but the ships that were supposed to arrive showed up. And they arranged it so that they'd spend only a few moments sitting still, on-loading, before slipping into hyperspeed again.

Helene may not be a great tactician, but it's clear that the Supremacy learned from Holdo, and it does not, if it can be avoided, sit still.

None of that had occurred to Kylo. He hadn't even given any thought to how they on-load goods and people, and do it in such a way that no one else attempts to drive a ship through them, but… Probably the 'bright boys' came up with a plan.

Another level hits Kylo as he's watching the Viceroy stare at his capitol ship. There are a lot of landing bays on the Supremacy and… He doesn't look around to make it clear, but he does let his senses expand. They generally aren't this full… Threepio's shifted all traffic to the places that the New Alderaan delegation can see. The Order, right now, looks like it goes through a lot more people and goods than it does.

He wonders if that's one of his Mom's tricks. If she used to make the Rebellion look bigger and better stocked than it was to impress people into joining it…

He'll ask Poe about it, eventually.

There's so much to see, all at once. And a Queen can't just gawp. (Though she remembers Rey taking a few moments to just stare at all the different plants. She's feeling a lot of sympathy for that. And a pang of homesickness. Nothing grows here, and she feels alien in a world of recycled atmo, metal, and plexiplast.)

And in the center of a small group, stands the Rens. Rey is holding Kylo's hand, and both of them are looking… composed. Heloise knows that look. The one she also slams on her face to make sure her thoughts don't become visible to the casual observer.

When Samanth came back from his first visit, and the two of them got a few minutes to stroll from the palace to his father's home for Solonift, he'd talked about how there may have been some potential there. How, maybe… If Ren was serious about people joining him, and if he meant it about killing the past, and if they were lucky, and played it right, they might find an ally of similar temperament and plans.

Maybe.

Trying to find much about him, beyond what was in the official briefings once it became clear that Rey would be visiting, was difficult. It's not that there wasn't information available, it was that locating it, and getting to consume it, without being seen to do so, took planning. (Fortunately, Heloise is a very good friend with her chamber maid. And she didn't ask any questions when Heloise requested anything she could find about the Rens smuggled into her bath, sandwiched among the towels.)

But even that was… sketchy. A few bits of flimsy. Some tabloid lies. Mostly images of the man(?) in the mask. A lot of in-depth coverage of the Qualee fight. That at least involved an image of him not wearing the mask. (And an image of him cutting that general's head off… She could have lived without seeing that.)

Most of the information about the Rens touched on how they've effected things.

Qualee to start off with. There was a lot of coverage of that. In the bit more than six months since that attack, the system has been 'rebuilding' under the Order's 'protection.' That... seems to be going about as well as could be expected. A lot of the locals are not fond of the Order, but compared to the reception they'd have gotten if they hadn't evacced as much of the civilian population as they could, this is... a wildly successful occupation. Between the propaganda offensive ("Look to your left, look to your right, which person near you is here because the Order gave them a lift? When your life was on the line, did the Oligarchs rescue you? When your life was on the line, did the Oligarchs call off the attacks on Order recruiting stations? When it was your life in their hands, did they value it?") and the 'bounty' for 'insurrectionists' (ten thousand credits for anyone with information that leads to an insurrectionist, twenty-five for a conviction.) they're not loved, not by any means, but they aren't hated, either.

And, in one move, by using his own ships to pull civilians out, Master Ren redefined the idea of 'just warfare.' People are still talking about the ramifications of that.

Long's system, meanwhile, has been dumping prisoners and poor people on the Order, and is kindly disposed toward them, because their crime rates are down, as are the expenses involved in dealing with criminals. That rippling out, too. There's no official treaty between the Order and Long, not yet, but her backers are watching, and if they do decide for a formal non-aggression treaty… Things could get… interesting.

The Gidi system has been debating, loudly, about seeing if they can block the Order from recruiting there. Apparently, Ren took a liking to local textiles (she read it three times, and still doesn't quite understand, and looking at him right now, he's certainly not draped in luxurious silks, though Rey's dress is made of good material…) and decided that was worth sticking a fifty-three recruiting stations in that system, and their labor market is getting tight as their currency is tanking. People on Gidi are less happy to work on-planet, for local credits, when a bit of a trip gets a job that pays in standard credits that buy a whole lot more. So, the leaders of Gidi are faced with the dual prospects of economic collapse, or fighting both the Order and a significant chunk of their own population who are very much enjoying the benefits of family members who are sending home wages that are in standard credits.

The deep space pilot's guild does not like the Order. They pay better than guild rates and are sucking up pilots en masse, same for skilled navigators and mechanics. Anyone who knows anything about keeping ships moving has a job, a good one, if they want it. All they have to do is move.

The economic fallout of the Raclan bank is still causing chaos. The last report she read indicated that the legal battles over who owed what and whom what would be over just about the time the galaxy burnt out. By paying his droid manufacturers in Raclan stock, Ren made sure one of the most powerful tech blocks had an extremely vested interest in making sure that, at least on the books, the Raclan Bank stayed 'open.'

And, in a report that she had to piece together and read between the lines, apparently, with the Order's open transport and legal sales of pretty much everything, they've tanked the market for several of the more lucrative goods the big organized crime families run, and they may be thinking about working with each other to try and get those lanes closed. (At least, she's got to assume that if the Hutts are seeking election to the New Republic as the representatives from Tatooine, they're looking to find a way to get the spice market hot again.)

And, of course the New Republic. They don't, officially, have much to say about the Order. They don't talk about it. They don't debate it. But there are arrest warrants for basically anyone in an Order uniform. They haven't set a bounty for anyone much below the rank of General, likely because they don't want to pick a fight with the Order, not yet, but it's clear they want to send a message that the Order is their enemy.

But what she couldn't find was much about Rey or Kylo. Especially not as… people.

Until a few days ago, when the interview went live.

She's seen it four times, and a few things became abundantly clear. (To the point where her Aunt was begging her to cancel this meeting.) The most important of them is that there is no possible way that any sort of attempted marriage pact charade is going to last past this first meeting.

He's going to 'turn her down,' and unless they can come up with something else, there won't be another reason to 'meet in private.'

The other thing that's clear is that Kylo Ren sitting down watched on a hand held data pad is a much different concept than Kylo Ren in person.

Holy Force! He's huge. He made that joke about being tall, but… Shit… She's wearing heals and the top of her head comes to his shoulder. Maybe. Possibly his jaw if she stands up straight. Then she notices that he's not standing up straight. He's got just a little hunch to his shoulders, likely making it easier to hold Rey's hand. Holy FORCE!

Rey unhands her man, crosses the last few steps to them, takes Heloise's hands, kisses her cheeks, and then leads her and her father to Kylo.

"Queen Heloise Talmaash of New Alderaan, Queen Father Tayron Talmaash, meet my husband, Master Kylo Ren of the Order."

Kylo doesn't shake hands. That was something she had been able to find. (Apparently, he tried once and broke a man's hand, so now he doesn't.) So, she doesn't extend a hand to him. He does bow to her. Or, it feels like a bow, but he basically just inclined his head. He looks… stern… imposing. He's a literal wall of a man, and… shit… Her eyes go wide. Mindreader. That was in the reports, too.

He smiles a little, face softening, and then offers his hands, takes hers, and gently squeezes them. "My queen."

Helene is a few steps behind, and she leaps on that. It may be rude to ask straight out, especially before a formal introduction, but the opportunity is ripe. If Ren will formally subject himself to New Alderaan… That could be very interesting. "Is she?"

Rey smiles to Helene, and turns to Kylo, her hand on his back, gesturing to Helene, as Heloise and her father step back. "Kylo, this is Helene Talmaash, Viceroy of New Alderaan."

Kylo nods to her, and does not offer his hands. She's looking up at him, expectantly, a little challenge in her gaze.

He watches her for a moment, before saying, "It is my understanding that the biological or adopted child of any citizen of Old Alderaan is a citizen of New Alderaan. I believe I qualify." He raises a brow, a silent moment to allow Helene the option of challenging that, in public, with everyone listening.

She chooses not to.

Kylo turns his attention to Samanth, and greets him. "Cousin."

Samanth nods. "Solo."

"Ren," Kylo replies.

"Of course." Samanth replies, a faint smile on his lips. "Certainly not Organa."

Kylo almost chuckles at that. "Certainly not. Your father sent gifts home with Rey. I know we sent a thank you note." (Because he signed the bloody thing, but Threepio wrote it.) "But I did want to say, in person, that I appreciated the gift intensely. Those were… memories I'd not thought of for a long time."

"That'll make him happy. He'll talk your ear off about how food is your history, all wrapped up in warmth and calories."

"He's certainly right about that," Kylo replies.

Rey loops a hand around Heloise's arm, and one around Samanth's leading them from the landing bay. "We have some goodies for you to take home, this time. Kylo and Ostrae have been…"

Kylo rolls his eyes a bit. It's a dismissive gesture. "Not making anything nearly as good as your father does. Still, Rey was thinking he'd like the idea of a few Maji working on trying to recreate some Alderaan favorites."

Samanth smiles genuinely at that. "Oh, he will. What did you try?"

And with that, the group of them begins Threepio's carefully scripted amble through the QQ deck, toward the lift that will take the New Alderaan delegation to their collection of rooms on the I-Deck.

It's a long lift ride. Made longer by the fact that there was no possible way that Queen Heloise and Ambassador Organa would be allowed to ride, on their own, up with the Rens. A few "servants" had to attend. And, of course, there was no possible way the Viceroy was going to allow her Queen a moment alone with the Rens, too.

And meaningless small talk isn't exactly either Kylo or Rey's strong suit.

But they're the hosts so it's their job to make their guests feel comfortable.

Rey finally thinks of something. She turns to Samanth. "Unfortunately, we don't have anything as much fun as those little scooters you showed me."

He chuckles a bit. "I'd imagine they'd make for exciting, by which I mean dangerous and terrifying, transport on a ship like this."

"Does everyone just walk everywhere?" Helene asks.

"To a degree. There are trams to aid in getting people around each floor. And express lifts, we're on one right now," Kylo says, "but for the most part, people walk."

"We also try to make sure that people are housed somewhere near where they're stationed. Cuts down on time spent moving around," Rey adds.

"Are we anywhere near your home?" Tayron asks.

"When we get to your rooms," Rey replies, "we'll be 36 decks above our quarters and Kylo's office. And…" she thinks a moment. "Five?"

Kylo nods. "Five halls aft, three sections starboard. Call it an hour's trip."

"So, the palace is closer to Resilience than we are to your offices?" Samanth asks Rey.

"Yes. Part of that is just the Supremacy is sixty klicks wingtip to wingtip. And part of that is that what will eventually be the formal diplomacy wing is still under construction," Rey replies.

"Your capitol doesn't have a place for… political working?" Helene sounds flabbergasted by that idea.

"My predecessor, who had this monstrosity designed to his liking, didn't feel the need for politics. He never saw a problem he didn't want to solve with a gun," Kylo says.

"You don't like the Supremacy?" Heloise asks, sounding surprised. Granted, she grew up in her palace, and hasn't ever really thought about if she likes it.

"Like is probably the wrong way to understand it. It's not particularly good for what I want to do and where I want to go. But, it is functional. It does well enough, and honestly, I don't much like wasting things, so… Here we are," Kylo replies.

"That said, there are plans to scale down some, and make a capitol that's traversable by people seeking to work with each other," Rey adds.

"And what do you hope to do, Master Ren?" Helene asks.

"Many things," he says with a smile. "For the time being, I'll be satisfied with cleaning up the mess I took over when I removed Snoke. That alone will take me to the first set of elections, and likely well beyond. My guess is that it will be my successors who get to actually chart a course for what to do once we've got ourselves together and functional."

More quiet. Kylo's amused to feel Helene thinking, That poor child actually thinks he's the hero in this story. And she's seeing an image of a young Leia as she thinks it.

Heloise is quite intrigued by the idea that Kylo really will step down. That's… not how politics works on Alderaan. Once you gain power, you certainly don't give it up, not in her world.

Tayron's looking from Kylo to Rey, but he's seeing Bail and Breha, and he's wondering if these two in front of him will be as shattering for his homeworld as Bail and Breha were, on a metaphorical, but not literal, level. He's also not sure if that's a good thing, or bad thing.

And Samanth's worried that New Alderaan won't have anything to offer Ren. That they won't be willing to help, because there'll be nothing in it for them.

There's not much either of them can do about Helene, Heloise, or Tayron's issues, but they can touch on Samanth's.

"Rey told me that you've got an extremely intensive agronomy program at work on New Alderaan," Kylo says.

Heloise nods, not getting this leap, but Samanth shifts his attention to Kylo, eyes bright and eager.

"Yes, Master, we do. I can't imagine, on a ship like this, that you'd have much need of agronomy, though."

Kylo smiles at that. "You'd be amazed. We have several floors that produce some of our basic foodstuffs here, though that's not what I was thinking about in regards to agronomy. Part of cleaning up my predecessor's mess. The First Order was stupid and shortsighted in its resource gathering, and as a result, we have thousands of planets that have been ruined. Stripped to their cores, or left in ecological shambles. People who know how, or at least can put together decent plans for how to try to get those planets back to something like alive, would be quite valuable."

"Not much you can do with stripped to the core. Not unless you've got a spare planet's worth of resources," Tayron says, thinking about this as a problem to solve. "How about somewhat less damaged?"

"We have about two thousand planets currently deemed habitable but in need of help, and an additional 18,000 with at least some people on them that need serious work," Rey says. "So, one thing we were hoping to talk with you about was seeking out some expert guidance on how to make things grow."

"What sorts of things?" Tayron asks. "I'm probably getting too deep into the details, but… Agronomy isn't a one size fits anything process. Each hectare can require its own plans and those plans can take years to implement. Entire planets would…" He blinks. "Well, Master Ren, you certainly aren't thinking small."

"No, we're not," Rey replies. "When did you get New Alderaan?"

"It's been thirty years," Heloise replies.

"And in that time we've…" Tayron starts. "Well, first of all, the planet could support pretty much everything we wanted to put on it, we just had to tailor the landscape to our plants. In many cases engineering the plants was the bigger challenge, and the landscape just required slight modifications of acidity levels, planting more nitrogen fixing plants, things like that."

"We didn't attempt to turn the deserts into cornfields," Helene adds. "Nor should anyone else attempt that. That's just asking for heartbreak."

"Well, unless that desert used to be a cornfield. Sometimes you can turn a desert back, but if it always was one, it's a bad idea to change it. I'm sure you've got locals who will be able to help with that," Tayron says. He's very excited by the idea of this. "What about local cultural preservation? Is that something you've given any thought to?"

Rey and Kylo share a glance. Kylo answers, "Honestly, no. Is that… something we should think about?"

And that's the end of quiet for the remaining trip up. All four of the Alderaanians are eager to talk about their attempts at preserving what's left of the original culture on New Alderaan.

Kylo almost wishes he could be jaded about that. That he could settle back, and be cynical about how much easier it is to be passionate about preserving a dead culture. One that can't infringe on the living one, but…

The only thing all four Alderaanians with him are passionate about is the need to make sure the people who lived on their planet before them aren't destroyed by an uncaring present.

Alderaan, in the form of humans, survived. The people who lived on what used to be Glenlivia IV, didn't. The Empire exterminated them.

And this, keeping as much of what they left behind, is the only justice, or solace, they can offer the dead.

So, they are.

Once the New Alderaan delegation is settled in their rooms, and Kylo and Rey and Jon are in the lift again (Threepio is staying nearby on I-Deck to make sure they're properly settled) Kylo says, "Go well?"

Jon nods. "I think so."

"You didn't say much," Rey adds. (Then she realizes that he didn't ride up in the lift with them. He was with Colonel Jefferies and the part of the New Alderaan delegation that actually writes treaties and contracts.)

He waves that off. (He didn't actually say much in his lift, but that's neither here nor there.) "I'm just here to stand tall, look official, and be pretty. Threepio already set this out. We'll see if any of the entourage decides I'm a good backdoor channel. Someone in the next few days will likely come by for a chat, and for that to happen, I've got to be lurking about, chatable."

"The Grand Marshall in charge of the entire diplomacy department for the Order is a backdoor channel?" Rey asks.

"There's a reason why Threepio didn't have you introduce me by rank. Unless they know how to read an Order uniform-"

"And you put one on," Kylo adds. Jon's in formal grays that match Kylo's new formal blacks, but they don't have a clearly visible rank signifier on them. Not the way, say, Kinear's command blacks, do.

"And I put one on. They should assume that I'm some sort of personal entourage, like the Queen's father. I'm assuming Threepio has a few of our people who will go find him over the course of the next day or two for a chat, as well."

Rey and Kylo just sort of think about that, and don't have a comment to go with it.

"What's next?" Rey asks.

"So, last time, you had a bit of rest and get ready time, followed by the formal dinner of vastly too many courses," Jon says. "We're going to kick that around a bit. We've got a chunk of F-Deck set aside for the eating part, so we can talk with quiet. But Threepio will bring them to it, and take some time strolling around, getting a feel for the market. Once they get to us, the food will be a collection of popular nibbles. They gave you a highlights of Alderaan meal. Threepio's set up something similar for the Order."

Rey thinks about that.

Kylo purses his lips, also thinking. "So… They gave Rey hours of deep Alderaan history and culture, and we're…"

"Going to show off that we're a melting pot. We'll have things from all over the galaxy that have ended up in our ships. Maybe, compared to some place like Alderaan, we don't have culture, but—"

Rey gets the idea a bit before Jon finishes the sentence, "We have a new culture. This is part of our open, tolerance stuff, right?"

"Exactly."

"How many courses are we sitting through?" Rey asks. The fourteen they did in Alderaan just about killed her.

"Eight. And they'll be small. We could do more, but the private meeting with the Queen is after dinner, so we didn't want to load you down with too much food," Jon says.

"Eight courses isn't too much?" Kylo asks.

"You'll see. I promise that if you don't ask for seconds, you'll still be in a good place to offer drinks and a dessert when you get to the part of the meeting in your private rooms."

Rey smirks at that. "Sounds sinister." She leans against Kylo. "Luring a sweet, innocent queen to our private rooms."

Jon and Kylo laugh at that.

Kylo rolls his eyes viciously. "At least, that seems to be the way the Viceroy is framing it. You'd think I've got a reputation as a prime seducer of young women with the way she's hovering close."

"Wait," Rey says, looking startled. "You don't?"

Jon thinks that's so funny he about doubles over. When he stops laughing, he says, "Yes, it was abundantly clear from the way you were undressing Rey with your eyes that you're about to swoop on in and defile that sweet, innocent, young queen."

Kylo smirks, and says, voice wicked and flirty, "Well, Heloise claims to be looking for a marriage pact… And it'd be with both of us, right? That could include, private room type activities." And undressing you with more than my eyes, he thinks to Rey.

Rey elbows him in the side, shaking her head, mock scolding, and he kisses her.

When Kylo breaks the kiss, Jon is leaning against the wall of the lift, looking smug. "So, this marriage pact, we going to get hair pulling and name calling as you two fight for Kylo's hand?"

"Yes, I shall defend my place and my man by tugging on hair. Let's skip the saber or hand to hand combat, and just slap uselessly at each other like the characters in that holonovella Rose and Savarah like."

Jon sniggers at that. "I should have known that. So, drama for the sake of the onlookers?"

"No," Rey says.

"The goal is to finish dinner, invite them to the courtyard, get the Queen and Samanth on their own, maybe you and Threepio will lure the rest of the group to the I-Deck, and then we'll actually talk about what we're going to do."

"Good," Jon says. "And… official lies to cover what you're actually going to do?"

"We'll think of something, together," Rey says.

"Conspiracy theory, first lesson, make sure all the conspirators are on the same page," Kylo says.

"Where did you learn that?" Jon asks.

Kylo sighs and rolls his eyes with a slight snort. "One day, when we've got three hours to kill, I'll tell you the glorious story of Luke Skywalker and the most stupid fucking rescue plan in the history of stupid fucking rescue plans. Or, as my Dad liked to call it, 'The Day I Learned the Force Was Real, Because Without It There Was No Way That Could Have Worked.'"

Jon looks amused by that. "May I take it that not all the conspirators were on the same plan on that one?"

"Yeah, more than a few of them didn't know all, or most, of the details," Kylo replies.

"At least, with the way Chewie tells it," Rey says, "part of the problem was Luke kept getting flashes of things changing, so he kept changing the plan to go with it, and sometimes some members, like say Lando, or Chewie himself, didn't get the new version until after Luke had started going along with it."

Jon winces.

As Threepio leads the New Alderaan delegation through the F-Deck to their supper, Heloise feels… many things. First of all, overwhelmed. There's just so much here, and it's completely unlike anything New Alderaan has to offer.

Yes, they have… she'd call it a shopping center, but there are four of them in Resiliance and none of them are this big or busy.

And, of course, in Resiliance, they're open to the sky, which obviously isn't going to happen here.

And there are plants. Granted, there are planters here, and there are things growing in them, but they're very obviously decorations, and not the main focus of what's going on. They're… something that's been added for visual appeal, not something intrinsic to the space.

But like open sky, that's likely just a normal aspect of the landscape… shipscape… whatever.

She can tell from the way Helene and her father are holding themselves that this is not making them comfortable. Her dad just doesn't like close in spaces, and while this isn't exactly close in, it is a ship, so…

Aunt Helene though… It's hard to tell, the set of her face is neutral. So neutral it's got to be hiding something, and when she's hiding that thoroughly, it's not because she's pleased. No one minds seeing a smile, and she's not smiling.

Samanth, of course, is enchanted. He loves cities, and compared to anywhere on world, this is a metropolis.

Her eyes flit back to Helene. Threepio is telling them about how anyone who wishes to can join the Order, and they're currently in the process of streamlining the system for coming here to open a business. There doesn't appear to be copious space to open a business here, but on their own floor, where things are much more sparsely settled, there's a lot of space.

He's going on about tolerance and how people may not always get along, but they all generally like credits, and money smooths over a lot of tensions.

Helene flinches. It's minute. If Heloise hadn't been looking for it, she wouldn't have seen it. Threepio… Tolerance. He was talking about tolerance, about how alloys are stronger than base metals, and how a civilization cannot truly claim to be civilized if it believes that everyone and thing must match its own mores. Trade. He's talking about how trade builds tolerance. People might not love each other, but they do love money, and the prosperity that money buys, and that'll generally get them to put the guns down and start talking…

"Though, I'm sure you'll find the Master has moved far from his Alderaanian roots, you'll see the core philosophies in action here. A civilization can be judged by the welcome it gives to any sentient not of it," he says as they walk further through the F-Deck, past a collection of... Order members. That's likely the best way to categorize them. They're a collection of shapes and sizes and species and… The main thing they've got in common appears to be a uniform and a desire to have some supper.

Threepio keeps going on in his precise and elegant tones.

It's an Alderaanian civics lesson. Actually, it's lesson one, day one. They're all trained in that from babyhood. Before Alderaan became civilized it was covered in tribes and families and clans at war with each other, trying to dominate each other through might or culture. But that stopped. With the last peace. With trade and enforced peace came tolerance and understanding. With an explicit promise that any culture was worthy. Their mountain folk, and desert dwellers, and sailors, and the people of the ice lands and the ones of the jungles were all Alderaan, all valuable, all sentients of their own dignity. Color, creed, family, faith, none of it mattered, they were all Alderaan.

Heloise hears it and it's so incontrovertible she wouldn't have even taken notice if she hadn't seen Helene flinch, so…

Threepio's telling Helene something, pushing something at her, and… There's context here, and she knows it's the sort of thing that's relevant to people who were around for Old Alderaan, because it looks like her father has the subtext of whatever conversation is going on, too.

But she and Samanth don't.

It's a few more meters of walking when she thinks she's got it. Maybe. Most of the people on the F-Deck are humans. Not all of them, but probably a good three quarters are. There are a decent number of droids, too, but the organics are mostly human.

And like humans everywhere, they come in all shapes and colors and are off doing human things, talking, eating, a few are spooning, some are reading or studying… Buying things, selling things, taking a break, playing games, going to their jobs… People being people.

And so are the non-humans.

Helene blinks. So are the non-humans. Non humans aren't banned from New Alderaan. Just like Non-Alderaanians aren't banned, either. It's just… Really difficult for them to come and integrate. The spouse of any Alderaanian is given automatic citizenship, no matter who or what or where. And there's no law saying anyone of Alderaan has to marry another human. So a few other species creep in one or two at a time. Likewise, anyone with at least one natural or adopted Alderaanian grandparent has automatic citizenship, and there's no law saying they can only adopt humans. But that's basically the only way for someone who wasn't born of or on Alderaan to become an Alderaanian.

She gets it further. Alderaan made a conscious decision that anyone, anywhere on the planet was Alderaan. They'd have their own unique cultures, but one language, one currency, one set of base values, multiple religions, multiple regions, but also all with the same core values…

Everyone on Alderaan became Alderaan, and it happened so long ago, and so slowly, that by the time anyone she knows was alive, it was second nature. 'We're all Alderaan. We tolerate everyone…' Because everyone had become Alderaan.

And everyone here is not Alderaan.

And Threepio… a droid… A servant for so long, barely considered more than an ambulatory computer, even though he's obviously sentient, is rubbing Heloise's face in it. He's parroting back core Alderaanian values, and showing how far they went. And how far they didn't.

General Threepio. Threepio's message is growing louder in her head, "You tolerate everyone, as long as they behave and look exactly like you do…"

He's practically gesturing about, shouting, This is what real tolerance looks like.

And Helene is not happy with that message.

She gets it more a little further down. It's a smell, and she didn't recognize it. Not at first. Again, though, there's another tiny, minuscule wince from Heloise.

She looks around and sees a cart. The cart the smell is coming from. There is a man handing over sticks with little brown chunks on them. The sticks are wrapped in paper, and people eat the chunks off. They seem to really like them, and the line for the sticks is probably fifteen people long.

Meat. She's smelling cooked meat.

She's hearing the sizzle, smelling the steam, and… it's got to be scent. There's nothing in her mouth, so she can't taste it, but…

She can.

And there's not a single place on Alderaan where you can buy meat. Granted, any given person on Alderaan may or may not be vegetarian. It's not like it's mandatory, or that eating meat is illegal. She knows that in rural or wild areas people hunt and fish, or breed stock to keep enough protein and fat in their diets, but…

Alderaan, and its culture, its Alderaan are so thoroughly steeped through everyone on the planet, that something as basic as this, as walking past a cart that sells some sort of meat on a stick, is something that happens literally nowhere on her world.

She looks around, and asks Threepio, "How many people live on this deck?"

"On the F-Deck, there are currently 2,879,343 people, comprised of a bit over a million officers and their families."

That's a third of the population of the entire planet of New Alderaan, here, on just one floor.

She listens, everyone speaks galactic standard, but the accents differ wildly, and the clothing is… Not uniform. Not, mostly. There's a decent number of people coming off of or going to work, and they're in uniform, but everyone else... Off-duty, the Order looks a lot like what it is, a huge number of people from all over the galaxy. If The Order has a culture, it's… eclectic.

Helene sees her watching, and says, quietly, but it's clear Threepio hears her comment, "Strong alloys are made of carefully chosen metals that compliment each other. Not by tossing anything that comes your way into a smelter and seeing what comes out. You end up with something too hard to work, and too brittle to withstand the challenges that come it's way if you try that."

Heloise nods, but doesn't comment. She does understand the message though. The amount of 'smelting' they did to turn Alderaan into Alderaan was all the mixing that Helene thinks they need.

A few more steps. Another layer. Kylo Ren. Child of Leia Organa. The man who gave up his name. The man whose birthright was taken from him. Who Alderaan, official Alderaan, Helene's Alderaan, would prefer to cease the exist, is out Alderaaning actual, genuine, Alderaan.

Alderaan was supposed to be a beacon. It was supposed to be an ideal of hope and tolerance, peace and value through persuasion instead of coercion. Alderaan, ideal Alderaan, is where people work together, with each other, to make something great, important, and they do it because they value each other, and the future they're building.

They continue to walk through the market, through sentients of all colors and creeds and species. Of organics and mechanicals. All of them, here, in this space, working together. United by The Order.

And Heloise knows why Helene flinched.

Apparently, being the host means a lot of waiting.

Wait for the ship to show up. Wait for people to come out of it. Wait for them to show up to supper.

Rey's the one standing in the 'dining room' which is an empty store on the F-Deck, set up with tables and chairs and space for eighty, pondering the nature of waiting.

"Sometimes I feel like I've spent more of my life doing this than anything else."

Kylo turns from the windows. Why they're here makes sense to him. If there's such a thing as prime real estate on the F-Deck, anything with sky access should qualify. And right now, they've got probably fifteen meters of unhindered view of the sky beyond them.

He crosses the room, weaving through the tables. He'd been mentally imagining something where, say, he and Rey, and Jon and Ellie sat down with the main New Alderaan delegation for supper, but there's seating for probably eighty people here, so… Quiet, intimate dinner does not appear to be on the menu tonight.

Granted, if he'd thought about it, he'd have known that it's not like the 'entourage' ceases to exist when they stop being convenient. And, assuming most of them actually are security, they likely do not want their Queen or Viceroy out of their sight.

A moment later, he's next to Rey, at the door. They're both still in their 'nice' clothing, decked out to look… elegant and glamorous or something. Ready to take a stab at this politics thing. He glances back at all of the tables. Politics with a lot of witnesses.

He takes her hand in his, and thinks to her, Thank you.

She raises a brow at that.

He gives her hand a little squeeze. This is what my father wouldn't or couldn't do. What my grandfather didn't. He kisses her hand, though it's clear he'd like to kiss her lips, but she's got makeup on and he doesn't want to risk messing it up.

She smiles at him, and they have one more breath of the two of them, just focused on each other.

Then the job begins.

"Oh, Good!" Jon's voice as someone neither Rey nor Kylo recognizes comes to the door. She's a tall woman, with dark skin and black hair. And, judging by her formal teal uniform, she's not just a guest, but part of the Order. Judging by the stripes on her sleeve, she's a very high ranked one.

Jon crosses the room, and the woman salutes him. He almost looks like he's going to wave it off, but he's aware of the line of people behind her, all in their dress uniforms, so he snaps off a sharp salute back, and then turns toward Kylo and Rey.

"Master, Mistress, this is Commander Graen Sloane. You remember when I was getting things set for the First Year Celebrations?"

That gets nodding.

"General Threepio had the idea that we really needed someone in charge of our diplomatic personnel. He went through the dossiers, chose Commander Sloane from our Intelligence department, and set her in charge of making sure that all of our guests had someone who knew something about their home world, more about us and what we're doing, and could do a good job of showing them around, answering questions, and being good ambassadors for the Order."

Sloane nods to her Master and Mistress.

"I've invited her to today's dinner, along with a collection of her best and brightest. That way, each member of the wider New Alderaan entourage will have someone to keep them company and informed."

Unspoken but understood is the fact that every one of the New Alderaan entourage will also have someone keeping tabs on them, seeing what they're doing, and making sure that the Order knows who has come and why.

Kylo offers her his hand, and she shakes it, looking both wary and pleased. Rey does likewise and when the handshakes are done, Kylo says, "I was very pleased to see how smoothly the Last Night/First Day celebrations went. Thank you."

Sloane may or may not blush at that. Her skin is vastly too dark for it to be clear. What is clear to the empaths near her is that she's deeply pleased to receive a compliment like that from her Master.

Jon?

Jon doesn't blink or make it clear he's hearing a voice in his head.

Kylo.

How important is petting from the higher ups?

It's something a good officer does.

Noted. Can I get lists of people going above and beyond for me?

Yes.

Ellie and Thea Schiff join them next. Without their husbands. Rey's wondering about that, for a moment, but Ellie seems to catch her curiosity as she joins Rey and Kylo at the door.

"Two parts of imaging in play," Ellie says, voice low. "First of all, it didn't seem wise to have anyone who joined up with the Empire and was actively serving during the genocide to be part of the welcoming committee tonight. Many people, even those of a generous and forgiving nature, would consider than an insult."

Rey and Kylo nod at that.

"The Viceroy, especially, is looking for reasons to be prickly about this, so we're going to keep two thirds of your High Command in the wings."

Again, Rey and Kylo nod.

"Also," Ellie continues. "You remember our conversations about masculine or feminine power. The Order is masculine-power coded, but that doesn't mean that it's not a bad idea to show off that we're not entirely driven by might and military power." Ellies gestures to herself, and Thea, and to Rey. "Yes, we've got uniforms galore here, but no one is armed, and no on their side will miss that a decent number of the power players at these tables are not only not part of the masculine-power structure, they're also genuinely female."

Thea adds, in a low voice; she doesn't want the diplomatic corps to hear this next bit, "Plus, if what Ellie says is true, the old bitch'll take one look at us, know that we're just as old, if not older, just as wily, if not wily-er, and not just know every bloody trick in her playbook, but we wrote some of the chapters, too." She offers a slight wink, and goes back to looking like the image of wholesome respectability that a Grand Admiral's wife should embody.

Rey does her best not to laugh, and Kylo bites his lip to keep from cracking a wicked smile.

A few moments later, the Alderaan delegation has arrived. Kylo breaks into a wide smile at the door as they begin to enter.

It could look like he's just pleased to see them. And, to a degree, a small degree, that's true. But Rey knows that he's smiling like that because Threepio's guided walk through the F-Deck has had exactly the effect Threepio was hoping for.

Helene's face is blank and calm, but her mind is shouting her annoyance at the current set of events, and this… child, she's thinking of Kylo as a child, who's unbalancing an perfectly functional society.

Another layer, deeper down, she feels like Heloise is about to pull the rug out from under her feet, but she doesn't know how, not yet, and that's making her deeply unsettled.

Unsettled people do stupid things.

Rey strokes his hand. Dangerous?

He blinks. Not here and now.

Later?

Again, he doesn't nod. Feels that way to me. Sort of. I want to fight her, a little. So, on some level she's got to be setting my danger sense off.

When we get her alone, we'll remember to tell Heloise about that.

Very much so.

Looking at the menu cards at each place setting, Kylo notices that there's a vegetarian option, and a meat option, for each course, besides the sweet.

Helene also notices, and as they wait for the first course to come, she says, "I notice non-vegetarian options. I understand most of your people wouldn't have grown up in vegetarian homes, but do you personally keep the traditions of kehruut?"

Rey blinks, and Kylo thinks fast. He finally manages to dig up a very old memory of his mother talking a bit about her home. He turns to Rey. "Kehruut… It's traditional Alderaanian food culture. Not just vegetarian, but… I'm sorry, I don't remember the rules."

"Leia didn't pass them on?" Helene asks.

Kylo shrugs a bit. Not sure how deeply he wants to get into this.

Helene looks… he can't read the face. He can read what's under. She's actually pleased that he's here, in front of them, showing off how much not Alderaan he is. Kehruut is like breathing on Alderaan. Everyone knows and understands it. Maybe they don't all practice it, but they all know.

Heloise hops in with, "Food is vegetarian, anything like eggs or milk or honey has to be raised cruelty free, it's a series of traditions designed to make sure the animals that feed us are treated as kindly as possible."

"It's not just food traditions," Helene adds. "Though those are the most visible aspects of it. It's… a collection of understandings and values that make us Alderaan. So, while the quick version is, food culture, the deeper issues come from how we understand the value of any living creature, and what we do about it." She's just so pleased that Kylo doesn't know this.

Kylo nods. "I remember that." He offers a side smile. "I generally prefer vegetarian food, but will eat more or less anything put on a plate in front of me. From the age of eight on, I lived on my Uncle's farm. I was being trained as a Jedi, so... not much Alderaanian culture there. For the most part, animals were worth more as egg, milk, or fiber producers, so we didn't eat too many of them." He takes a sip of his drink, and can see the way the rest of his table is watching them. And so are members of both his staff, and theirs, at other tables, who want to know more about him. For all of them, farming, in a literal getting food out of the ground sort of way, is an alien concept. "That said, you only need one cock at a time, so there were usually a few weeks each season where we'd have meat with our evening meal. And in order to get ewes and hflers to make milk, they've got to make babies, and again, you really only need one male, so…" He lets that trail off and takes another sip. "Luke, of course, wasn't raised on Alderaan, though he thought it was important that we be mindful of the creatures who gave us our food. But, as a Jedi, he also knew that everything that lives has to consume other things that live in order to keep alive." That gets a little, half dismissive shrug. "I'm not saying a cucumber is the same as a cock," Samanth just about chokes on his wine, and Kylo realizes what he just said and almost dies, (He's clutching Rey's knee under the table, and she's stroking his hand.) but he manages to keep talking, "but they're both alive, and especially if you're as in touch with the Force as Luke and the rest of us New Jedi, it doesn't feel all that different."

Rey decides that Kylo's dug himself in about as deeply as he can, and might like a rescue. Yes, please, sounds in her head.

"I like your ideas of avoiding cruelty," she says to Heloise. "We do that with the Maji, too. It's important to make sure that chickens and rabbits, or anything that gives us sustenance has a good life while it's living, and is taken care of as gently as possible. That's… the least we can do for them. But most of the Maji eat meat, and for the last several months, it's been meat we've raised ourselves." She touches the menu. "Here, in a perfect climate-controlled world, it doesn't matter as much, but right now, home is cold, and all-vegetarian food doesn't provide the kind of fats and proteins that help keep people warm."

Kylo nods at that, and adds, "Also, on a farm, a real working farm, animals get old, and sometimes predators get where they shouldn't be, and we didn't waste food. That was important. If an animal died or had to be put down, unless it was sick, we'd eat it. Keep the life circle going."

"That's also part of a more balanced idea of the Force," Rey adds. "The Jedi went so far as to say there was no death, only the Force, but Luke didn't quite believe that. He understood that death feeds life, and all the lives must die, and as Mistress of the Maji, I'm continuing along with that idea."

The server comes over, and the whole table orders. Rey has the options with meat. Kylo does the vegetarian ones, as does Heloise, Samanth, and Helene. Tayron makes a comment about broadening his horizons and orders a few, but not all, of the meat dishes.

"But you said you prefer vegetarian food?" Heloise asks Kylo, once their orders have been taken.

Kylo nods. "I'm just not a huge fan of the texture of most meat. Its not bad, the flavor doesn't tend to bother me, but wiggly, squishy things aren't my favorite."

Helene nods at him, a true smile on her face. "I was touring the north continent, and the biggest, well, only city there only has thirty thousand people in it, and the smaller settlements can get very small.

"We were in a very tiny village, on a very cold island, one of the ones where people still hunted," she backs up to explain to Rey and the rest of the Order members, "Meat consumption isn't outlawed on Alderaan. You could go to one of our main cities and open a store that sells the meats on a stick I saw walking through your main deck. It's just that you'd likely go out of business trying to sell them, and you'd have to get your wares off-planet, because there's no commercial meat production on-world. But the more widely spread out areas… Kehruut doesn't demand vegetarianism. It demands dignity and kindness and treating that which lives with love. That said, survival comes first, always, and the further out you go, the less easy it is to get a balanced diet by living off the land. Among other things, if the nearest grocery is 3000 kilometers away, just nipping out for a bit of synth protein to round out your meal isn't an option. Likewise, there's a vitamin that only comes from certain plants, or the livers of certain animals, and if you can't get those plants to grow, you've got to eat the animals." Everyone is following along now.

"Anyway, this was before my mother died, back when I was still the Princess, and I'm visiting this village of about a hundred people. Part of it was making sure that everyone had an idea of who I was. Part of it was making sure I had an idea of who my people were. And, they're celebrating, which means a feast. Part of the feast is roasted flerths."

No one in the Order delegation knows what a flerth is.

Samanth says, "They're about a meter long, and about half a meter tall, very round heads, no visible ears, but they've got wiggly, short noses, whiskers, big black eyes, two flipper-like legs in the front, one flipper-like tail in the back. They spend a lot of time in very cold water, so they've got thick, dense, waterproof fur, which the islanders use for clothing and insulating their homes, and thick, rich fat, which helps them stay warm, and vitamin-dense livers, which means people who eat them don't get sick."

"But, they're also achingly cute." Helene adds. "And there were these little baby ones, which are fluffy and gray, with huge black eyes, and they sort of bark at people, and follow them around, and…" She sighs. "All I wanted to do was gather about fifty of them and get into a big pile and cuddle." She smiles a little, and waves her head in a somewhat dismissive gesture. "I was very young at the time."

Kylo quirks a small smile. He's got the sense that 'very young' means five years ago. "I made a stuffed tookka for my niece a few weeks ago, and may have spent a bit too long petting fabrics to see which one felt the best. We're allowed softness." He shrugs a little. "It probably makes us better people, even if it doesn't make us better leaders."

(He feels Jon, who is at a different table, smirk at that. He'd been a little taken aback when it took Kylo two hours to go through the fabric collection and pick them. A bit more taken aback that he did it by touch, and not sight. There were some mutters of 'colorblindness' when he decided which blue fabric and which yellow one he wanted. They did feel really good together, though. But now he's amused by it.)

Everyone looks very surprised by that. Heloise is smiling widely as she continues with, "So, I'm there, being Princess Heloise. Learning about local village life. Dinner rolls around. It's my job to eat anything put in front of me, and this is not a tribe that's swimming in extra food. Though we did bring a lot of rations with us, because we're coming from the city, and it's convenient.

"They've got open fires, which is another extravagance, because they're burning dried seaweed, and… That's a smell you're never going to forget. So, they've roasted the flerth over the fire, and are getting ready to serve it.

"Most of the meal I'm doing fine. Most of it is things like the local warm season tubers, and seaweed, and dried berries, and pickled grasses, and some sort of fish, and another roasted shellfish, but they bring over this poor, roasted flerth, and… The skin is fine, it's crispy and salty, and I can pretend it's a chip of some sort. But under the skin…" she does her best not to wince. "It's five centimeters of slightly melted fat."

Kylo closes his eyes, draws in a shuddering breath, lets it out slowly, and then opening his eyes, says to her, "I am deeply, passionately sorry."

She nods, slowly. "I felt terrible. I'm their princess. They are literally giving me the absolute best piece of the animal. It's their favorite, most elaborate, this is their highest honor in the form of food, and I'm all but literally turning green trying not to throw it up."

"Did you… get through it?" Rey asks. She'll eat anything. At all. That said, five centimeters of warm fat doesn't settle well on her stomach, either.

Heloise nods. "Barely. And I used every trick I had for hiding food, but…" She taps the menu card. "I appreciate the delicacy in making sure dinner would involve food we'd enjoy eating."

They pause again as the servers place the first course in front of them. Rey notices that Heloise is very interested in how she thanks the servers. Apparently, in her own household, one does not thank droids. That said, in her own household, said droids may not be sentient.

But here, today, for this meal, the servers are droids. Part of that is making sure no order can be mismanaged. Part of it is Threepio making sure that the New Alderaan delegation sees Rey thanking droids.

Once the food is settled, (And yes, each plate has a few bites only. Kylo's got a small salad of pickled radishes and carrots. Rey has a tiny square of some sort of meat paste on a piece of toast, with the pickled radishes on top.) Kylo says to Heloise, "General Threepio is to thank for that. He's exceptionally good at keeping all of the details arranged properly. If it were just me… This would not be nearly so well designed."

Helene raises a brow. "And what would it look like if it were just you?"

Kylo smiles a little.

Rey says, "Likely a lot smaller."

He strokes the back of her hand, and says, "Maybe one day I'll attempt to organize something like this for myself, and we'll see."

It's Heloise's father who says, "If you'll forgive the question, but… In many cultures, it's often the job of the political spouse to be in charge of things like this… Is this… not your domain Mistress Ren?"

Rey also smiles. "This is very much not my domain. Though, I'm certainly learning. Was this… your job when you were the Prince Consort?"

"Actually, yes." Tayron replies, "And part of what I do now, too. Heloise does not, as yet, have her own Prince Consort to handle issues like state dinners." He takes a bite of his meal, and Rey notices he did not opt for the vegetarian food for this course. "Kehruut is, at it's most basic level, a respecting of the dignity and value of the life forms around you. And while it's true that officially, Alderaan does not have a state religion, that's something that threads through all of the religions found on planet. So, part of my job is making sure that Kehruut is extended to anyone or thing that comes into our sphere of influence. That's… similar to what you do with your Maji, no?"

Rey looks pleased by that. "It is. Speaking of things I'm working on learning, how to extend that through and to anyone who comes into our sphere is on the list."

Tayron nods at that. "I find that the more I know about the people we interact with, before we interact with them, the easier it is to extend Kehruut to them." He taps the rim of his plate. "For example, we do interact with people where offering a meat dish would be considered a violent insult, so, in that case, it would never get near a plate. And we interact with people who will make an exception, because we're Alderaan, but in general would consider the lack of a meat dish an insult, because that would mean we don't hold them in high enough esteem to slaughter an animal for them. And, of course, there are the ones who won't touch anything until they've fully scanned it. Or the ones who consider just sitting down to eat with someone a grave honor, because they come from a world where political assignations are so common they've got words for poison through food, or poison through beverage, and poison through cosmetics, and…"

"Where is that?" Rey asks, horrified.

Tayron shakes his head a bit. "The Padishah Imperium."

"I've never heard of them," Kylo adds.

"There's no reason why you should have," Tayron says. "They're not in our galaxy or anywhere close. And we ran into them a long time ago. They… this might be of interest to Force users. They don't travel by propulsion or faster than light engines. They have… well, supposedly they begin as humans, who they call navigators, and they drug them with something they call spice, which is very much not what we call spice, and the navigators use their minds, enhanced by the spice to bend space around the ships. The ships don't move, the universe does."

Kylo doesn't let it show on his face, but he thinks, urgently, to Rey, Does he know how I got to you?

He… shouldn't. But…

Kylo sips his drink, hoping the covers some of the expression on his face. But covers a lot of territory.

Helene smiles at that. "That one's a good story. Apparently, a very long time ago. This predates us by quite a bit, one of their navigators misjudged what they were doing. Too much spice, not enough spice, they never found out, and ended up with an entire transport ship of Corrinos hovering just outside of Alderaanian space. Close to a thousand of them were going to… I don't remember, but apparently they were extremely confused to end up just outside of Alderaan two hundred years ago."

"It was a politically fascinating culture, and an abject lesson in not letting the wrong people gain power," Tayron says. He shudders a bit. "They claimed to be part of the Imperial family of a man who ran the entire known universe, but, obviously, they didn't know us."

"Quite surprised," Helene says again.

"Chumly? Is that one of them?" Tayron asks.

"Poison by food?" Helene replies. "It was something like that. Imagine, if you can, a political system where one man claimed to rule the entire universe. He'd use magic and bloodlines and poison and war and… It was an absolute disaster. We used to study them in school as a how not to run a political system sort of lesson."

"How long were they outside of Alderaan?" Ellie asks.

"They stayed in orbit for a year," Tayron replies. "Once their navigator figured out that, even with a hyperspeed ship, they were, at best, seven hundred years from home, and that nothing anyone knew of anywhere in our galaxy even got close to their spice, they resigned themselves to having to stay in our galaxy. Last we heard, they emigrated to Coruscant."

"You… didn't let them emigrate?" Kylo asks.

The entire New Alderaan delegation looks horrified at the idea. "After we learned more about them, we decided it was better to suggest that there were likely worlds significantly more to their liking," Tayron replies.

"And they just… blended in?" Rey asks.

"They were humans, more or less. Less in the case of the navigator and the mentats." Kylo and Rey are both thinking what's a mentat?, but neither wants to halt the conversation by asking. "We made sure the Jedi knew to keep an eye on them. They had… a few… I'm going to use the word witches, though I don't know if that's accurate, per se, among them. Able to do things… Well, the Jedi would have found them interesting. Our ancestors were just content to see them go," Helene replies.

That's a few moments of quiet contemplation.

Then Rey thinks to Kylo. Message below the message?

Probably. He thinks back. Are we the Corrino?

I think the question is, do they think we are? Or… Is Tayron suggesting this to make sure we don't end up with our own Corrinos at the door.

Kylo sips his drink while thinking to her Chat with Ellie and Pat about this later?

Yes.

Heloise wonders idly, between courses, if Ren only wears black. Every image she's seen of him, mask or no, has involved head to toe black. Apparently, he's a little fancy today, because he's got a bit of silver to go into the mix, but… It's a lot of black.

Well… That's a polite question. A get-to-know-you gambit, "Tell me, Master Ren, is there a significance to the color scheme of the Order?"

Kylo blinks at that for a moment, and then swallows a sip of his drink, and she can't see it, but she's got the sense that he's holding Rey's hand under the table. "To a degree. Part of it is, I just like black." There's a second where it looks like he may say more about that, but he doesn't. "Part of it is that everything already was black and gray and white and red when I took over, and… You need to understand, that when I took over, this ship was in two large pieces, and a whole lot of little ones. My predecessor had managed to get more than half of us killed in less than a week, and lost most of our military. Fixing things up is a major budgetary constraint for us, so, while there are things I'm willing to do to spruce this place up, repainting anything that doesn't actually need it, seems like a waste of credits. That said, our newer construction is heavier on the gray and white, with black more as an accent than the main color."

"Part of it is that black and gray is long wearing," the Thea Schiff adds. "I don't know much about how cities work, but on a ship, if you can coat a surface in a color that won't fade, won't show dirt, and is more resistant to damage, you do it. Same with our uniform color scheme, black and gray and dark blue is just… easy."

"And part of it is symbolic," Rey adds. "The Order and The Maji both seek balance between the dark and the light. They understand the one does not exist without the other, nor should it try."

"I was under the impression that light is how you get color," Helene adds.

"I am, too, which is why you'll sometimes see me in white, rarely in black, but often see me in colors," Rey replies. Her current outfit is a floor-length gown, with a trim pearl colored bodice, no sleeves, and a long skirt of swirling blues and greens. "It's why the hard surfaces of what we're building tend to be black or white or gray, but the soft parts, and the plants, we're working colors into. Black and white may be the end conditions, and gray the mid-point, but they aren't the end all or be all of what's out there."

"As you'll see in a bit, when we talk in private," Kylo adds, "our own rooms are tan and peach with little bits of blue and some lighter cream colors."

"With some black," Rey says, with a smile. "Because he does genuinely like black."

Heloise smiles at that. There's a stab of annoyance from Helene at speak in private. And Samanth says, "So, does that also indicate that, on occasion, you're seen in something other than black, white, or gray?"

Rey laughs at that. "We're working on it."

Kylo smiles. "I'll have you know that I own at least two pairs of socks that are not black, and… a few other things." He grins at Rey, and she leans her head against his shoulder.

Helene raises a brow. "Really?"

Kylo rolls his eyes. "No. They're all black. One day I might, though." He takes another sip. "I have a blue bathrobe. But someone keeps stealing it from me, so I don't get to wear it much." He eyes Rey.

She looks innocent and takes another bite of her supper.

By Kylo's internal clock, this meal has been going on for seventeen hours.

One hour and nine minutes. Rey thinks in his head. The chrono's behind you to the left.

He doesn't glance at it. Doing something like that is probably rude or something to that effect. Still… He'd enjoy this more if they could really talk about why they're here, and meeting and… Do something real.

This seems to mostly be for show.

Rey squeezes his hand. Heloise and Samanth are liking you better by the minute. Starting to feel more trusting.

He doesn't incline his head. He does take a sip of the soup. I suppose that's something. Helene keeps staring at me and seeing my parents.

Rey doesn't nod. She's noticed that, too. You could ask her about it.

Or I could not.

I know you're curious.

Yeah, but she's thinking about it. Not talking about it. How would I know to bring it up?

Rey strokes the back of his hand and smiles at him. Remember that thing I told you about, making people want to talk?

His eyes gleam at her, and fortunately, most the rest of the table mistakes it for the two of them being ridiculously lovey with each other. Yes, I do.

Let's see if I can shift the conversation.

And, when there's a lull in the gentle burr of words between Ellie, Thea, and Helene and Tayron, as they discuss some entertainment that was popular thirty-five years ago, that all of them enjoyed, Rey gets thinking at Helene.

Kylo's holding her hand, feeling what she's doing. It's… enticing. That's likely the best way to put it. She's encouraging Helene's curiosity, making her feel content and secure, and like everyone around them would also want to know things like this.

He feels more of Helene through Rey, and through his own empathy. It's not that, on any given level, that Helene is hostile to him as a person. It's what he represents. If he were Kylo Ren, no relation to Alderaan whatsoever, she could not have cared less about him and what he's trying to do. The Order would just... exist, and do it's thing, and that would be that.

But as someone who might alter the path of Alderaan, she is very intently involved in who he is, and what he might do. Fear. He feels that arcing through her, especially as Rey gently nudges her toward her questions and thoughts about the Leia and Han.

Organas spelled doom for her and hers before, and now they're back, and… She's afraid. That's the feeling under the rationalizations and justifications.

She was afraid of Leia, and the changes she was working.

She's afraid of Alderaan really being gone. She's afraid of the Emperor really winning.

She's afraid that one day, everything she loved about her home, about what made them special, about her ideals of herself and her world, will fade to dust, stomped out by tides of history she can't control.

And Kylo's got the feeling that a lot of the population of Alderaan, old enough to remember Old Alderaan, feels the same.

Give her a nudge. She'll get talking, Rey says in his head.

A nudge… They're at another lull in the conversation, so… "Did either of you know my grandparents?" That seems like it'll roll in the direction he wants things to go, without openly plumbing what's going on in Helene's mind.

Tayron answers first. Kylo isn't sure, but he thinks he's older than Helene is. Maybe. Both of them look to be within five years of Leia's age, so… "Unfortunately, no. Our parents were diplomats to the Reth system. I was born off-world, and only visited home a few times." He offers a half-smile. "That's… a very common story for those of us who survived. Obviously, people travel, but most people are, at most times, wherever home is. So… For just about anyone who survived, Alderaan wasn't home. Or, it was home, not a physical home, but an emotional one."

Helene nods at that. "I was born on Alderaan, but hadn't started school when we moved. Bail and Breha were images. We see them on newsies, or sometimes our father would take holocalls with Bail."

"He took me to the Senate once, and I met Bail there," Tayron says.

"Why didn't I go?" Helene asks.

"Your school was taking you to… I don't remember. You were really looking forward to it, and pouted a lot at the idea of leaving."

Helene nods. "Right. The Kellian Crescent. I did not want to miss that trip." She looks to her brother. "He was young then, ten, twelve, something like that."

Tayron nods. "Bail was… kind. I remember that. He was taking time to visit my father, which means it was probably important, but he treated me like a real person. Looked me in the eye, talked directly to me, kept me in the conversation as much as it's possible for a child to be involved in a diplomatic conversation." Tayron sighs a bit at that. "Not a lot of people will do that. Especially people with tight schedules. He let me prattle on about a sport I was following in those days. He made me feel important."

Both Kylo and Rey smile at that idea.

"I did know your mother," Helene says, and looks a little surprised that she did. Rey mentally smiles, and Kylo strokes the back of her hand.

"I understand she was in the Senate, and you were on New Alderaan," Kylo says.

Helene nods. "She knew Tayron's wife better than she knew me, they'd both been part of the Rebellion, but over the years we worked together."

"What was she like?" Kylo asks.

"You don't know?" Heloise replies.

He shrugs a little. "I know… impressions. I was eight when we stopped living together. She kept me away from the politics intentionally, so I didn't know her as a leader, and… My job was to learn to be a Jedi. I wasn't very good at that, so a lot of the impressions I have are of her 'encouraging' me to do better at my studies." He takes a sip, and makes sure he's got good eye contact with Heloise, "And, of course, I was a child, and… There are things our parents don't want us to be thinking about, especially as children. I… didn't get to know her as an adult."

That resonates with Heloise, who also cannot know her mother as an adult.

"You talk about her as if she's dead," Helene says. "We… saw her visit you when you were on New Alderaan."

Kylo thinks about how to answer that. "You know my Uncle was Luke Skywalker. And he was my mother's twin brother." That gets nods. "And Force skills run in families." He hovers his glass a few centimeters. "And, with the Force, and a lot of tenacity, you don't exactly have to leave when you die. And, one thing that's true about my mother, something even I knew, was her tenacity.

"She passed from this life to the next a bit over a year ago. And, from what I can tell, she's seen absolutely no reason whatsoever to let being dead stop her from occasionally popping by to visit and chat."

That gets dead silence at the table.

Finally, with a slow nod, Samanth says, "And now I understand why you keep your comments about her so… guarded."

Rey nods back. "It's… difficult to figure out how to… discuss something like that."

Unfortunately, that bit of conversation has pulled everyone's attention away from talking about Leia or Han to what happens to people after they die, and if ghosts are real.

"I've never seen a ghost," Thea says. "My gran used to. People would come to her to have her talk to them about their loves and what they were up to on the other side."

Kylo and Rey look really confused at that. He blinks slowly, and she says, "Any ghost?"

"Sometimes she couldn't get through to them, but if she couldn't, she wouldn't take payment. Back home people would call her a witch, too, but they always came around when they needed help, or missed their loves, or needed to find a copy of the will."

Until that last sentence, it's clear that Helene and Tayron were thinking Thea's gran was a con woman, but… "Could she… actually find wills?" Helene asks.

Thea nods. "Wills, keys to lock boxes, passwords. There are a lot of things people don't think about when a loved one is about to pass, or goes fast, and most of it's just stupid stuff that you need, but don't have, like how to get into data files, or which security company has the lock boxes, or… Just stuff like that. Gran could usually get the ghosts to talk."

Another long silence.

"Was your Gran Force sensitive?" Kylo asks. If she was, there's no feel of it on Thea.

Thea shrugs. "Never knew how she did it. She certainly wasn't floating crockery around to make points," she smirks a little at Kylo, and he quirks his lip in response, genuinely amused, "and the Jedi never came calling, but if your own gran had just died and you needed to find where she hid her paperwork, my Gran could get her to tell, and then set you right."

"Where was your family from?" Rey asks.

"A billion klicks out from the middle of nowhere. When I was in my late teens, Gran died, and Daddy decided that the only good thing on that world had been Gran. So, he moved us to Calderrai. And a few years after that, this hot shot flyboy for the Empire gets stationed nearby. He was on convalescent leave, and then got moved into training for a while, and… The rest is history."

Ellie has a half smile at that. "I feel like I've heard a few hundred versions of that story."

And dinner moves on.

And on.

And on…