4. Torn .|. Rejoined
The beautiful minds recognize each other.
Toba Beta – Betelgeuse Incident: Insiden Bait Al-Jauza
4.1. Open Wounds: on the planet Takodana, ABY 30/06/01, 05:46 GST
A man does not recover from such a devotion of the heart to such a woman! He ought not; he does not.
Captain Wentworth – Persuasion
Han wasn't the self-congratulatory type, still he felt tempted to clap himself on the shoulder for getting by on sheer dumb luck. As far as he could tell, it had been a close shave, but they all seemed to have gotten out of this pickle relatively unscathed. There was Chewie – there was Maz – over there was the boy, and the girl had run off into the woods with the droid. They hadn't bombed the woods and he had given her a blaster, too – she'd be fine. He'd put her and the droid onto one of the Resistance ships swarming around and that would be that.
Of course, reality called his bluff just then. A black and white shape at the very edge of his vision made him turn his head, only to realise it was – he! – and he was cradling the girl Rey like a sleeping child in his arms, carrying her off and on board of a First Order transporter. The sight took his breath. It couldn't be… The last time he'd seen him… Really seen him, with his own eyes, not just in a holo…
In the same moment, he caught the sound of another transport, this one landing, and he needn't even look to know that this little family reunion, for a split second at least, was complete. On automatic, he made his way towards the landing ship, pushing past the yelling boy, only vaguely noticing what it was he was saying.
"They took Rey!"
"I know," he mumbled and had half a mind to add, 'It's alright, he couldn't hurt a fly' before realising his own delusions and biting his tongue. He had never felt more torn. Having seen – him – and about to see Leia, he was half filled with elation, half with bottomless dread. But if there was one advantage to becoming old, it must be to have learnt that one could never run away from one's problems (the last years had finally taught him that lesson, and how cruelly). One of the two he loved most dearly in this life or any other was gone. Forever. There was nothing he could do about that. But he could still do right by the other.
The transport lowered its exit gangway and there she stood. The last years hadn't been kind to her either; her hair had turned grey, there was a pinched quality about her mouth and an air of parchment about her skin. Even her eyes had lost most of their erstwhile brilliance. Then she spotted him and her entire being transformed.
Whether she knew it or not, she stood straighter, making her two inches taller if that was enough, she raised her chin, smirked knowingly and turned on a kind of light in her gaze. It was like seeing her through a not very clean windowpane, but unmistakably Leia.
"New hairdo?" he gabbled.
She gave him a wry smile. "Same hairdo. I see you are also still wearing that same old jacket."
"No! New jacket!" He racked his brains for something, anything appropriate to say. Even something not entirely trite would suffice for now. Luckily, Chewie stepped forth and enfolded her in a hug, giving his friend another moment to collect himself.
But why make bones about it? There was one thing – one person! – connecting them and dividing them at once.
"Leia, I saw him," he whispered, seeing her smile faint, steeling himself to go on nevertheless. "I saw our son."
x X x
4.2. Victorious: in the Resistance headquarters on the planet D'Qar, ABY 30/06/01, 13:35 GST
The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.
Charles Dickens – The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby
He took three victory laps over the tarmac before landing, carried by the cheering crowds. Not only had they for once beaten the First Order at its own nefarious game, not only had Poe personally shot down nine enemy fighters – most importantly, they had recovered BB-8 safe and unharmed. The road to Luke Skywalker was clear. Poe had never been prouder of his little friend.
He was even more chuffed when said friend was the first to greet him, beeping frantically and showering him with jubilations, congratulations, its relief to see Poe alive and well, and one or two reproves for abandoning him.
Poe laughed and rubbed the droid's belly. BB-8 could never withstand the magic of the belly-rub.
BB-8 continued his happy beeping, informing his master how he'd made it off Jakku in the first place.
"Finn?" Poe exclaimed, delighted and followed the droid's outstretched tongs. No shit! There he was, standing on the tarmac, looking over to them. Poe jumped to his feet and sprinted towards his rescuer and embraced him furiously.
"You're alive!" Finn cried and patted him on the shoulder so hard he almost knocked the air out of him.
"So are you! Gosh, I thought you were dead!"
"But I saw the TIE explode!"
"I got thrown from the crash, woke up at night – no you, no ship, nothing… But BB-8 tells me you found him and saved him."
"Well, he rather found me." He pulled on the jacket he was wearing; only now Poe realised that it was his own. "Here, this belongs to you."
"Keep it. It suits you." The young man looked bashful, and Poe exclaimed, "You completed my mission, Finn! A jacket is the least I can give you as a reward."
"Actually… There may be something you could do…"
"Yes! Anything!"
"Can you help me talk to your superior? General Organa, I mean? My friend – she helped rescue your droid – and she was kidnapped by – by Kylo Ren."
"Sure! Come on!"
x X x
4.3. Raison Être: on the planet D'Qar, ABY 28/01/23
The leader of the enterprise a woman.
Virgil – Æneid
Leia had been raised to do her duty, so she was suffering from severe pangs of conscience to have dropped the ball that hard in the last years. Over the search for Ben, she had increasingly neglected her work in the Senate. It had come as a big shock to her when, reviewing the evidence, she had realised that all those attacks, all those disappearances, planets that apparently spontaneously declared they wanted to leave the Republic, were by no means coincidental. The pattern was so painfully obvious – why had nobody else sounded the alarm?
She had got in touch with her contacts all over the galaxy and found that maybe a dozen had come to similar conclusions like she. Some had even tried to alert the Senate, but had never gotten far. It reminded her of the beginnings of the last war – there were voices of dissent, but they needed a radio beacon to spread information and rally around. And who was better suited for the job than she? She already knew everybody and their brother, she had reliable contacts in the Senate, and even after it had become public knowledge that her biological father was none other than Darth Vader, she was still enough of a war heroine for a lot of people to trust her.
At first, it was only an occasional talk here and there, until she realised that the thing most direly missing was organisation. So she had set up a small, unofficial office. The office was soon too small, the task too enormous, and because she was aware that there must be First Order plants even within the Senate, she had looked for an even more clandestine – and peculiarly more official – place. She had found it in an abandoned spaceport on the planet D'Qar. Fifty years ago, the planet had still been going strong, then its natural resources had run dry, and the only people remaining had been those who couldn't afford getting away. But those lived nowhere near the extensive jungle, which had claimed most of the base in the interim. Bringing that one back up to speed took lots of work and effort; it also allowed her to take her mind off the disaster she had for a private life.
Han had always had the proclivity to take off and be gone for a month or two, even when they had been newly married. Once Ben had been off to stay with Luke, he had had even less reason to come home, and his absences had become longer and longer. Then they had lost Ben, and his stays had become shorter as well. After a couple of years, he had just showed up now and then, stayed a week and left again for four months or more. At that point, she had decided to cut her losses.
She simply had to face the facts. She had lost Ben, somehow, she had also managed to lose his father. Not to mention Luke, whom she had literally chased away. She didn't regret the latter, at least not during the day. Lying in bed at night was a different matter. She missed her brother. In the past years, she had even come around to at least be able to see his point of view. But that didn't mean she'd ever forgive him for failing her son.
x X x
4.4. We'll See: on Starkiller Base, ABY 30/06/01, 15:00 GST
There's nothing as significant as a human face. Nor as eloquent. We can never really know another person, except by our first glance at him. Because, in that glance, we know everything. Even though we're not always wise enough to unravel the knowledge.
Ellsworth Toohey – The Fountainhead
For a moment or two she was disoriented. The last she recalled was a forest, a black monster. Remnants of some nightmare perhaps. But this wasn't home, this wasn't her bunk in her walker. It was a roomy, brightly lit cell. Only now she realised she couldn't move; her hands didn't obey her. – They were tied down. – Why were they tied down? – She was tied down, she realised with heart-stopping terror. Then she noticed the presence of the actual monster. This was no incomprehensible nightmare, no garbled vision out of hell, this was the brute from the forest. This was real.
"Where am I?" she asked and cursed herself for sounding so meek.
"You're my guest," he replied in a wildly inappropriate, upbeat manner. Maybe this was a simple nightmare after all.
She stared straight onto the empty grimace of that ghastly helmet. "Where are the others?"
"You mean the murderers, traitors and thieves you call 'friends'? You'll be relieved to hear I have no idea."
Who was this guy calling a murderer?! She remembered the vision she'd had of him, how easily he had stabbed some random bloke. She remembered what he'd done to her in the forest, and for a moment, her outrage outweighed her fear of him.
"You still want to kill me," he said as if he could read her mind. Given what had happened in the woods, he probably could!
But if she had to go down, she'd do so with flying colours. "That happens when you're being hunted by a creature in a mask!"
There was a moment of silence. Rey braced herself for the inevitable retribution, but when he did move, his hands went to the sides of his mask and worked some hidden mechanism.
In a nightmare, the monster would have taken off its helmet and revealed something yet more horrible underneath. Something gross with much too many teeth, and fangs, and no eyes, or dead eyes, or more eyes than the usual two. But contrary to her assumptions, no ghoulish visage appeared, just the very normal head of a young man not much older than her, if at all. He had a pale oval face, full lips, a long nose and a shock of wavy black hair. Most striking though were the man's eyes. They were as black as everything else about him, and anything but dead. She gaped, trying to square her expectations with the facts as they presented themselves. That was the vision that had scared her witless?! Why, Unkar Plutt looked scarier than this mere boy! Any Teedo looked more threatening!
He got up with one lithe move and strolled towards her. She could scarcely keep herself from goggling at him in spite of the risk. One of the first rules a kid learnt in Niima Outpost was that staring at people was a sure way to make them lash out at you. Sometimes, a mere stray look sufficed. And this boy might be less intimidating than she had imagined, but that didn't change the fact that she was tied to a chair and he could assault her without any chance of her defending herself.
"Tell me about the droid," he said. His voice was different, too, without the helmet. Not quite as deep, not at all gravelly. Under different circumstances, she might even have called it friendly.
She feigned ignorance, but he wouldn't have it. "Oh well, it doesn't matter. There's still the defector, maybe he'll be easier to talk to –"
Finn! Oh no! That's what he had run away from, he had barely managed it. How lucky he hadn't told her where exactly those smugglers were going. This guy might have picked the destination from her brains! And speaking of things he had already picked anyway –
"He's a BB-unit with a selenium drive and a thermal hyperscan vindicator –" she gabbled, hoping against hope that this might be enough, that she could distract him from Finn and play for time… But once again, he was having none of it.
"– who's carrying a section of a navigational chart. We have the rest, recovered from the archives of the Empire, but we need the other half, and somehow you convinced the droid to show it to you. You, a scavenger."
She'd never minded being a scavenger – well, she had, because it was exhausting and dangerous with only little reward. But the disbelieving way he said it made it sound really base. She was astounded how much she felt hurt by this remark; tears were welling in her eyes. Furiously, she bit them back.
If he'd seen them, he didn't press the advantage. Or maybe he did. "Come on, kid. Why are you making it so hard for yourself? You've known these people for two days. You don't owe them anything." She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away from him as far as she could. "You know I can take whatever I want."
Rey recoiled. So many years she had successfully warded off any attempted rape. Now she was tied down, her staff stood in the corner ten feet away and there was nothing she could do about it.
But when the assault came, it wasn't at all what she had dreaded. He didn't touch her, he just bent towards her and reached out his hand. She thought he would force a kiss on her and averted her face, but he only murmured, "You're so lonely."
Oh, that old spiel?! Think of your happy place! He can't get to you there. He can't harm you if you're not even here…
But then he went on, "So afraid to leave," and that really threw her. How did he know that?
"At night, desperate to sleep, you imagine an ocean. I see it. I see the island."
Rey saw it too. Her little island, her shelter, her happy place. A pleasant spot under a mild sun. Some green grass even, here and there. And even if he had discovered it, it still gave her strength. She would get through this, like she'd gotten through everything else. And then she'd go home and wait for her parents. Perhaps, now and then, she could job for –
"And Han Solo… You feel like he's the father you never had." How the hell would he know that?! "He would have disappointed you."
"Get out of my head!"
As if only just now realising how disturbing this was, he backed off. "Look, the more you struggle, the more this is going to hurt. If you just relax, we can finish this in a matter of seconds, and you'll not feel anything."
The room's blue light rendered him even paler, his eyes gleaming black. The visor was frightening, but somehow, feeling these black eyes drilling into hers was even more alarming. His eyes, his words and, hang it, reality, were having three different conversations with her at once. And she didn't know how to respond to any of them, let alone all three.
"I know you've seen the map. It's in there. And now you'll give it to me."
He reached out with his hands once more without touching her, and she suddenly felt a strong pull on her head, straining her neck painfully. Also, there was that strange feeling of something soft and woolly wrapping around her. It was weird and ticklish. Then there was a sensation as if someone had opened a door in her head with a strong gale blowing through. She thought she could smell salt water (it threw her why she would even know what that might smell like, she'd only read about it). And hear the clashing of waves, the drip drip drip of rain (talking of things she'd never ever seen, or heard!). Glittering stars in a velvety night sky. A sweet and sour taste in her mouth, cool, juicy, tingling.
"Don't be afraid. I feel it, too."
Did he?! She strongly doubted it! Straining to get away, she gasped, "I'm not giving you anything."
"We'll see," he replied perfectly confident.
The pull to the open door was so strong, she couldn't resist it however much she tried. Like gravity – flail your arms all you want, but that won't make you fly. You're falling, and soon, you'll hit the ground.
And the ground does hit her, but instead of killing her or disabling her or just hurting her, it morphs into a sand sleigh ride, tripping in water, a barrel roll all at once, and she does feel fear as she's whirling around, but bizarrely, it is definitely not her own. It takes her a moment to realise, but then she knows she's in his head and takes an awed look around – incredibly fast, incredibly brief impressions swish past her, through her, but one is constant and ever-growing in overwhelming urgency –
"You…" she wheezes, trying to put into words what she can sense so clearly. "You're afraid… That you will never be as strong as – Darth Vader!"
With the expression of a man accidentally rousing a Black Vipera, he recoils and the connection snaps with a booming, if inaudible, smack, and for a second or two they stare at each other in perfect disbelief at what has just happened.
x X x
4.5. It's A Killer: in the Resistance headquarters on the planet D'Qar, ABY 30/06/01, 15:12 GST
She told no one what she saw, not even her sister.
Virgil – Æneid
Rose had only swiftly joined the jubilant crowds welcoming the glorious victors of Takodana. In fact, she had waited only long enough to hug Pearl and see for herself that her sister was safe and sound, clapped half a dozen times for her other personal hero, Poe Dameron, and rushed back inside to get on with her work. She felt pangs of conscience for abandoning it even for five minutes.
The destruction of the Hosnian system had devasted her more than most of the others. Because none of them had any reason to feel responsible. But Rose did feel exactly that. The description of what had happened had unsettled her; there had been something in her head tugging on her memories, but she hadn't been able to figure it out. Then the news of that deserting Stormtrooper had trickled down to the engineers, and his account of 'Starkiller Base', and it had hit her. She had seen that monster once before. Or rather: she had seen plans. Back then, she'd dismissed them as nonsense and never mentioned them to anybody. Nobody would have believed her anyhow.
If only she hadn't been so cowardly! Perhaps they could have prevented this terrible tragedy if they had known what she knew.
"Don't talk such rot," Pearl reprimanded her when Rose confided in her. "You just said yourself, it would never have worked."
"But I was wrong! It did work!"
"You don't know that."
"You know what happened to Hosnia! You heard what the deserter said. About that base."
"Yes. And I rely on you clever folks to figure out a way to blow it up."
So that was what Rose did feverishly. She tried to recall what she had seen then, what details had struck her as particularly unlikely or fantastic. Those novelties should be those most sensitive to error or damage. She thought the runaway Stormtrooper might give her more info, but of course, she didn't dare talking to him, so she begged Kaydel, or Pearl, or even Commander D'Acy, to do it for her, but they all shook their heads and declared she really ought to do it herself, because they wouldn't even know how to ask the right questions, or spot the importance of any given answer and maybe pass it on wrongly.
In the end, Pearl took her by the hand and dragged her to Poe Dameron. "Poe? Surely you remember my sister, Rose."
"But of course!"
All the same, Rose kneaded her hands, unable to look their most valorous hero in the face.
"Rose thinks she may figure out a weakness in that base," Pearl went on relentlessly. "For that, she'll need to talk to that Stormtrooper. Can you please introduce her?"
"Sure! C'mon, kid!"
He gently steered her to the room where the young man was debriefed and briefly explained their purpose to the four other officers present.
"That is very commendable, Commander Dameron," one of them said. "But can't it wait?"
"I don't think so, Ma'am. We know they have that unimaginably destructive weapon. Who can tell when they'll use it again? Or on whom? The lives of billions are at stake, Admiral Nabock!"
Rose saw the withering scowl the admiral cast him and vicariously shrank away. She even pulled on Poe's sleeve to indicate a speedy retreat, but he didn't budge one centimetre.
"What do you think it is we're doing, just now?" Nabock snarled.
"With all due respect, Ma'am, at this junction I don't think our most pressing questions are of a military nature. I believe Finn ought to talk to an engineer first."
There was a murmur of agreement, and to her utter incredulity Rose saw four of their most important officers get up and leave the room only so she – she! – could have a word with the eyewitness.
Poe pulled her forwards and urged her to take the seat on which, thirty seconds ago, Vice Admiral Holdo had still been sitting. "Finn, this is Rose. She's one of our best engineers –"
Rose opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, the young man stretched out his hand. "Hi. I'm Finn."
"I know," she whispered, hoping a hole in the ground would swallow her.
"What do you want to know?"
That was far firmer territory. She produced her clipboard and a pen. "There must be an oscillator, right? I need to know everything you can tell me about that oscillator."
x X x
4.6. Like Being Dead: in the desert on the planet Jakku, ABY 27/08/05
Children begin by loving their parents. After a time they judge them. Rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.
Oscar Wilde – A Woman of No Importance
The little pilot has allowed her to take his seat. She tries to copy his manoeuvres and fly as wildly as he does, he applauds and cheers her on.
They land on a planet full of water, beautiful, clear water, lots of it wherever the eye turns. There is another spaceship. She instantly knows this small freighter, more importantly: she knows its passengers. She runs out, and there they are, embracing her, caressing her, kissing her. She's so happy, she's never ever been so happy!
Where have you been?
We were on a very secret mission, sweetheart.
So long?
We had to pretend we were dead.
Of course, that was the explanation.
Just that…
You didn't have to pretend from me!
Oh sweetheart…
I've been waiting for you! I missed you! I was all by myself! You could have come back to me and hidden on Jakku! Living on Jakku is like being dead!
She was sitting in her bunk. Inexplicably angry. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She must have had a nightmare, even though she couldn't remember anything except she'd been flying. She rubbed her eyes. A look outside showed Megga I standing over the second of the Fallen Teeth. In other words, the sun wasn't going to rise for another five hours.
For some inexplicable reason, she was scared of going back to sleep, so she got up, wrapped herself in her warm cloak, shouldered her quarter staff and set off in the silvery light of Megga I towards the Graveyard of Giants.
Maybe she'd start learning Neimoidian tonight.
x X x
4.7. Bested: on Starkiller Base, ABY 30/06/01, 15:14 GST
So ran the speech. Burdened and sick at heart,
He feigned hope in his look, and inwardly
Contained his anguish.
Virgil – Æneid
No no no no no… This didn't just happen. It can't be. Awakening to the Force or not, he cannot possibly have been bested by a scavenger from the end of the galaxy who didn't even know she has it in her. Well, now she knows!
That's what it feels like to have someone get into your head? So why are people always making such a terrible fuss and scream their lungs out? It didn't hurt – well, the act in itself didn't. The humiliation is a different matter.
He all but runs straight to the hall housing the hologram facilities to connect to the master, almost forgetting to put his mask back on. The Supreme Leader mustn't see him like this. On a second thought, it might be better not to mention he ever took it off to begin with. He isn't exactly patient when it comes to failure.
The story in itself is short enough, it takes him less than three minutes to report. He's even glad for the kneeling pose, eyes on the ground, that under different circumstances he so often resents. Today, it offers him the possibility to hide away as good as he can while still fulfilling his duties to his master.
"The scavenger – beat you?!" Snoke booms.
"She's strong with the Force. Untrained, but much stronger than she knows."
He hears the door behind him opening and gets to his feet. He's willing to kneel before his master, but on no account will he kneel in the presence of one of those jerks. The newcomer turns out to be Hux, the worst of the accursed lot.
"What about the droid?" the master asks, and just before Kylo can answer, Hux has already cut in.
"Ren believed it was no longer valuable to us." He sneers malevolently. "That the girl was all we needed. As a result, the droid has most likely been returned to the hands of the enemy. They may have the map already."
Kylo stares straight ahead, lest he loses control and accidentally strangles Hux right in front of the Supreme Leader.
"Then the Resistance must be destroyed before they get to Skywalker," the master replies.
"We have their location." Kylo gives his all not to show any kind of reaction to that bit of news. "We traced their reconnaissance ship back to the Illeenium system."
"Good. Then we will crush them once and for all. Prepare the weapon."
"Supreme Master, I can get the map from the girl," Kylo says before thinking twice. He cannot stand by and watch a second star system destroyed in less than one day! "I just need your guidance."
Instead of an answer, the Supreme Master sends Hux away to oversee the preparations, then changes the topic altogether. "If what you say about this girl is true, bring her to me at once."
"Yes, master," Kylo replies quietly and not a little shocked. He hasn't even thought of that. The poor kid! He's seen his master interrogating people, it's almost as gruesome as when he tortures them, even though the end is just the same. In the end, they are all dead, and begged a good deal for death before that.
"You pity her!"
Darn it!
"No! Alright – yes. She's just – just a kid. She got into all this by accident –"
"She's overwhelmed you! Does that seem accidental to you?"
x X x
4.8. Jedi Mind Tricks: on Starkiller Base, ABY 30/06/01, 15:16 GST
Force finds a way.
Virgil – Æneid
For a minute or two, Rey feels nothing but triumphant to have fought back that impertinent boy so successfully, and marvelling at herself. Not for the world could she recount how she did it! And did you see his face?! Priceless! And then he ran away! From her! Ha!
That doesn't change anything about the facts though, she soon enough remembers. She is still tied to a board heaven knows where, and he's likely to come back any minute. And then he'll have his revenge on her for playing that trick that she wouldn't know how to repeat with a blaster to her head. And even if she somehow managed to wriggle out of these shackles (she tries and tries in vain), there's still that Stormtrooper stationed at the door.
She's well and truly dug herself a hole here that no amount of pluck will get her out of.
If only she knew how she scared him away, maybe she could do the same with the Stormtrooper?
Hang on… What did that strange elderly lady, Maz Kanata, tell her? Something about the Force… And Han Solo claimed it's true what they say about the Force. What does she know about the Force, anyway? It's a Jedi thing. Well, she's certainly not that. They use it to… Move things? Sounds like the kind of trick she'd need lots of time to practise. But wasn't there something about them using it, too, in order to control people? She sifts through her memory, trying to distinguish between what she's heard, and what she made up herself in one of her stories.
Oh well, it can't hurt to at least give it a try, right?
"You will remove these restraints and leave this cell with the door open."
"What did you say?"
"You will remove these restraints and leave this cell with the door open," she repeats, louder, and trying not to sound so desperate.
For a second, she believes it may have worked because the soldier leaves his post at the door and comes towards her.
"I'll tighten those restraints, scavenger scum!" he spats. So much for 'it can't hurt'!
Nevertheless, she decides to try once more. She feels instinctively that she needs to sound more confident. How did he do it, in the forest? He was all self-assuredness and aplomb.
"You will remove these restraints and leave this cell with the door open," she says, modelling her tone on the utter smugness she feels when abusing Unkar Plutt to his face in Neimoidian.
"I will remove these restraints and leave this cell with the door open," the Stormtrooper says, unbelievably. For a moment she wonders if he's mocking her, but all doubts fly away when he does indeed open the shackles and marches to the door.
"And you'll drop your weapon!" she cries after him.
"And I'll drop my weapon."
She hears the opening door, the clang of the weapon hitting the floor, the disappearing steps, and loses no more time. Getting up, sprinting to the exit and picking up the blaster rifle are one.
x X x
4.9. The Omniscient:
aboard the Supremacy, ABY 30/06/01, 15:38 GST
The workmanship excelled the materials.
Ovid – Metamorphoses
This child beat Kylo Ren at his own game?!
Is she… Could she be…
I'd say it's not possible, because it would mean that foolish boy had far more mettle than I'd ever known – and there isn't much I don't know (ask me for the square root of 1,623,789.65 and I'll admit defeat, but other than that…), omniscience comes with the territory of being almost a thousand years old. Of having lived the lives of twenty men, twenty men of miraculous power and acumen. Of being the Sith.
But even I have, every other decade or so, been known to overlook some trifle. This particular trifle though! How could it have slipped by me! Why didn't I know? How the hell did he manage it in the first place?! I ordered him bespoke!
No, she can't be.
What if she is, though?
x X x
4.10. Split, Part One: on the planet Shuryoo, ABY 27/06/24
He waits for her to sympathize
But she won't sympathize at all
She waits all night to feel his kiss
But always wakes alone
He waits to hear her say
Forget
But she just hangs her head in pain
And prays to hear him say
No more
I'll never leave again
How did we get this far apart?
We used to be so close together
How did we get this far apart?
I thought this love would last forever
The Cure – Apart
When Han had arrived at home after more than three months absence, he hadn't been surprised that Leia wasn't there. When she hadn't come back two days later, he had started worrying, and bullied C-3PO until that one cracked and told him that his mistress was in her 'other office'. It was a strange phrase, but no real surprise either. Sure! Now she needed a second office for all the work she was doing. That sounded just like her.
On the way though he started wondering why C-3PO had been so cagy, and when he saw what a shady neighbourhood she had picked, his suspiciousness rose another notch, not to mention his encounter with a security droid at the door that had almost opened fire at him. He wasn't entirely unaccustomed to people shooting at him, but he'd be damned if he tolerated even his own wife's servants acquiring the habit!
Leia stepped in just in time, then mutely waved him in, but not without casting some cautious looks around the hallway.
"Hey…" he greeted her.
"Why, another year over, is it? Honey, I told you to give me a call when you stay out late," she trilled sweetly. "Now your dinner didn't only burn to crisps, it's been colonised by maggots since and I believe they've just elected a government."
He pulled a face indicating both guilt and vague acknowledgment of the joke, something along the lines of 'glad you're in such good humour about it'.
Inside, he had to doublecheck that he was seeing right. The narrow room bore all the hallmarks of an office, yes, the computers, the screens, the file cabinets and dusty shutters and in one corner, the mandatory sorry succulent plant in its final throes without which no real office was complete. In addition though, it had a state-of-the-art security system including a self-destruction mechanism.
He lifted his hands in disbelief. "What the hell, Leia?"
"Want a drink?" she asked in return, but didn't wait for an answer and prepared two incongruously clean glasses of substandard whiskey. The woman had never been a connoisseur of good spirits.
"This is where you've been hiding? Did you actually sleep here?!"
"Not really. I feel asleep yesterday afternoon in my chair, but only for an hour."
"I can only repeat – what the hell? I knew you're a workaholic, but this is extreme even for you."
This time, she gave no answer at all. She just sipped her horrible drink and pulled a face. Only now, he realised what he had subconsciously noticed to be missing right from the start – for the first time in how many years, she hadn't asked if he'd found Ben yet. His stomach took a turn, and he hadn't even tried the whiskey yet.
"Who did you annoy to be condemned to such a secondary office? Or has the Senate discovered its inner spendthrift?" he tried for levity, but didn't raise as much as a smirk.
"This isn't Senate work. It should be – but it isn't."
"What is it, then?"
No answer. She swirled the liquid in her glass, watching it intently, then seemed to take heart. "Han, we need to talk."
For a second that felt like ten thousand years, he thought he knew what she was going to say next and had to battle with an instant gag reflex. She hadn't asked if he had found Ben because she had found him – and it couldn't be good news, or even neutral news, because otherwise she'd never have waited so long to tell him!
Consequently, he didn't grasp what she was saying when she did speak. "This isn't working any longer, don't you agree?"
"What?"
"This – us… Our marriage. It hasn't been working for a long, long time. I sometimes wonder if it ever did."
"I… Look, Leia, I know I wasn't always…"
She gestured impatiently and his voice ebbed away. "I'm sick of sitting here waiting, never knowing if I ever see you again –"
"I've always come back, haven't I?"
She winced and closed her eyes for a moment. "That's what Ben used to say. 'He'll come back, he always does.'"
"Don't drag him into this!"
"Let's discuss this like grown-ups, shall we? For all intents and purposes, this marriage no longer exists. I believe it is time we just own up to that simple fact."
He experienced a slight surge of relief, and wasn't entirely sure if this was due to the simple fact that he had reckoned with even worse tidings. "That's how you feel?"
"Don't you?"
"Hell, no! I love you, Leia, I've loved you since I first met you!"
She smiled sadly. "But what's love got to do with it? I love you, too. If I didn't, I might easier arrange myself with this – this… But all this hoping and waiting whether you turn up or not – I'm fed up with it."
He opened his mouth, but she once more raised her hand. "Now don't you start making promises that you can't keep, or worse, that you do keep, so I can have the pleasure of living with a caged husband. You are what you are, and that's fine. I mean it. You're a good man, Han. You're just not husband material. And let's face it, I'm no wife material either. We've made do as long and as far as we could, but… What's the point in dragging on?"
The horrible thing was that he couldn't, in good conscience, raise any serious protestations. He had let her down, he knew he had. He hadn't been there when she had needed him most, always claiming he was doing it for her, all that searching, all those long, long journeys, when in fact he had simply been running away. Feverishly looking for Ben had been so much easier than facing his loss. Now he had to see he had lost her, too.
x X x
4.11. Parting: in the Resistance headquarters on the planet D'Qar, ABY 30/06/01, 16:01 GST
the astronaut must leave
the astronaut must go on
will we ever
meet again?
one never knows for certain
on the rocket launching site
will I survive the next flight
or will my ship go up like
a ball of fire
when debris rains from the skies
then you've got to know
for me you were the greatest of 'em all
in some vale of stars
I'll go down as a speck of dust
never meet again perhaps -
kiss me one last time
I'll be gliding as star dust
on the solar winds
through space until I
find you again
Udo Lindenberg – The Astronaut Must Go On
With some apprehension, she watched Han and Chewbacca loading the Falcon. She'd seen the same often enough and never liked it, but this time was worse. This time felt as if she'd never see him again.
Ah, but that was surely due to the fact that they'd only just met again after a period of more than two years. She scolded herself for her sentimentality. She'd broken up with him after all, she had no more claim on him or his time. Was this regret, then? Was he right to think that seeing him was merely a reminder of all they had lost and which she didn't allow herself to acknowledge having lost?
He struggled lifting a container of ammunition which he would easily have carried ten years ago. Or maybe fifteen. Blimey, he had gotten old. They both had. Leia would have been the first to admit that she had aged beyond her actual years; she was only forty-nine, but bore all the hallmarks of a woman in her sixties, the whitening hair, the aching joints and troubles reading without her glasses. Han on the other hand had truly gotten old; he was fifteen years her senior, but now more than ever hated owning it. He still dressed like a much younger man, he didn't even have glasses and relied on Chewie to cover up for him. Like now, when the Wookiee called for him, ostensibly to take a look at something or other, but in fact just as a subterfuge to carry the darned box on board himself.
She strolled over, trying for 'casual' but not deceiving herself into believing that she could fool him. "It's strange, you know. No matter how much we fought, I always hated watching you leave."
He turned around with a faint smirk. "That's why I did it. So you'd miss me."
This was true on so many levels, she wondered if he was even aware of them all. Oh no. No. It had been hard enough to break up with him once. Why would she put herself through the same paces again?!
But the answer was simple: Because she loved him, she always had and always would, he was an irresponsible fool not at all cut out for being a husband, still there had never been any other man for her. And he made it even worse by folding her in his arms now, cupping her head and pressing her against his chest like he'd used to, she smelled his aftershave, the leather of his jacket, she felt his breath and his heartbeat and was on the verge of tears without knowing why.
"I've missed you, too," he muttered and gently kissed her hair.
"Don't… Don't say that."
"It's true."
"Yes, but…"
"Why do you get to say it, but I shan't?"
Contradicting herself, she hugged him even closer. "Because…"
"Because what?"
"Just because."
He chuckled under his breath, moved his hand to her chin and made her look up to him before closing in for a kiss. She leant into that kiss avidly, like the young girl she'd been when falling in love with him, like this was the last time she'd ever kiss him, like this one kiss would have to last for forever, and he returned her kisses just as hungrily. She had never kissed any other man so she had no one to compare him with, but she imagined Han Solo was the best kisser in the galaxy. Darn it, he had practised enough. But for once, that idea didn't irk her.
They stood like this in the middle of the airfield for a long time, for everyone to see, but that didn't deter her either. They were at war, she was bidding her husband goodbye without any idea if he'd return. She had every right to make a spectacle of herself!
"If you see our son… Bring him home," she said at last.
Instead of an answer, he tightened his embrace.
x X x
4.12. Polar Opposites: aboard the Supremacy, ABY 27/05/10
Makes me sick when I hear all the shit that you say
So much crap coming out, it must take you all day
When you look at yourself do you see what I see?
If you do, why the fuck are you looking at me?
Archive – Fuck U
Kylo Ren was no stranger to military operations; both his parents had once been generals after all. He'd never dreamt of anything like the First Order though. The Republic's forces seemed an almost ragtag bunch of pacifists compared to this lot. Everything was in order, everything was organised down to the last tiny details, even the officers' hair seemed made out of plastic – no matter what, not a single lock was ever out of place.
There were two types of them. Wizened veterans of the actual Empire who had somehow survived its downfall, and men and women, exclusively human, not much older (sometimes younger) than Kylo himself, with that certain gleam of unwavering determination in their steely eyes. Unrivalled among them was one Major Armitage Hux, the only – if illegitimate – child of General Brendol Hux, hero and legend of the First Order (and bogeyman of the Republic). The son struck Kylo as even worse though than he had ever imagined the old man. Everything about this guy was slick and textbook-orderly, his teal uniform looked like fashion and contrasted his copper hair as if he dyed it that shade only for this effect, his voice was controlled and snappy, he held himself as if the iron poker in his butt reached up to his head, a head entrenched in its own grandiosity and glorious purpose. Kylo loathed the man, if he could be called a man – how old was he? Twenty-five? Twenty-seven, tops. Hux had once been in charge of training the younger generation of officers, which went a long way to explain why they all seemed so much like him, and had only recently been promoted to become a major, which must have added to that unbelievable swagger he managed to project.
Incidentally, Major Hux returned Kylo Ren's instant dislike with interest. In his time, he had seen any number of pretentious little upstarts giving themselves airs, but this kid really took the cake. Upon arriving at their base and brashly demanding to see 'Snoke' – note: not 'the Supreme Leader', not 'Admiral Snoke', just 'Snoke' as if the two of them were old chums! – he had looked like all recent arrivals after ten weeks travelling through the Unknown Regions. Scruffy, emaciated, worn-out. That was alright. Most decidedly not alright was that he had merely taken a shower and laundered his clothes, downright refusing to put on a uniform, or get a decent haircut, or even put his stuff in order. If any of the Stormtroopers were seen outside of battle with their helmets scratched and dented like Ren's, if any officer arrogated to walk around in a tunic stitched up so unseemly or their hair in such unkempt disarray, Hux would personally have condemned them to privy-cleaning for the next decade. And that idiotic cape and cowl combo! It was all Hux could do to stop himself from stepping onto the rim and make that prat topple over. If Ren's worst sins though had been his ridiculous fashion sense and attitude problems, the major would have been happy enough to ignore him. But to add insult to injury, the Supreme Leader openly favoured that pathetic youth! He was granted access to even the most secure areas (Hux had served for ten years until getting all area access!) including unlimited visitation rights with the Supreme Leader; he had been given a custom-built starfighter and permission to command a TIE-fighter squadron and Hux himself had been ordered to show him around and explain the First Order's inner workings, and had the kid brought as much as his datapad to take notes?! He sure as hell had not. As far as Hux could tell, he had scarcely listened, and the only time he clearly had, it had been to ask impertinent questions about the sources of energy needed to power the superweapon currently under construction.
"What do you mean – drain a star?" he had asked, and even with his voice distorted through that voice changer, it had been obvious that the ignorant boy disapproved.
And disapprove he did. One of the few constants in his life for as long as he could think back was Kylo's appreciation, admiration, for the sacred beauty and integrity of the cosmos. You couldn't just destroy a star – in order to destroy another star! Well, apparently you could, but you mustn't! The mere idea to look up one night at the stars – only to find two of them gone because some moron in a uniform had destroyed them for the sheer sake of it!
He had even tried to talk to Snoke about this, which had slightly soothed his concerns. Starkiller Base (note the name, do!) was supposed to serve as a deterrent. No one would dare to oppose the First Order knowing they could snuff out a planet like a candle. Of course not. It was basically like a Death Star – and the nagging thought in the back of Kylo's head that reminded him of the fate of his mother's homeworld Alderaan was drowned out by another, much louder and more decisive voice scolding him not to be so bloody sentimental.
x X x
4.13. Remember Me: on Starkiller Base, ABY 30/06/01, 19:33 GST
Beware the fury of a patient man.
John Dryden – Absalom and Achitophel
The more he had to do with the man, the surer Finn was that General Solo was a lunatic. He had entered the atmosphere of Starkiller Base at lightspeed and nearly got them all killed. Then it had transpired that his plan for getting into the facility relied on Finn himself getting them in there, and when Finn had told him that he had no idea and that they'd have to rely on the Force, he had turned really snippy.
"I can get us into the building, that's not the problem, but that's a far cry away from disabling the airshields –"
"Then get us inside for a start and we'll take it one step at a time from there." The Wookiee growled something in return and Solo gnarled, "You're feeling cold?!"
So they had sneaked into one of the storehouses.
"What we need is someone with full access."
Finn shook his head. "You can forget about that. There's exactly three people with full access – General Hux, Captain Phasma and Kylo Ren. The general never goes anywhere without a squad of Stormtroopers, and overwhelming either Phasma or Ren is completely out of the question."
"You think?"
"I know."
"That Captain Phasma – is there a way to get to him?"
"Her. Phasma's a woman."
Solo tilted his head back and groaned. "Is this the time for hair splitting? How can we get to her?"
"We can't attack her!"
"Why not?"
"Because – because –" Because Captain Phasma had haunted Finn's nightmares for as long as he could remember, she wasn't just strong, she was invincible and frankly, Finn would have preferred to kill himself straight away rather than face Phasma and be killed anyhow. But he couldn't tell Solo that. "Trust me, Captain Phasma is THE stormtrooper. She cannot be beaten."
"Tsk. Don't be so faint of heart, kid."
"Listen, I'm telling you –"
"Get us to her, will you? I thought you wanted to help Rey."
Whether he was aware of it or not, Solo had pushed the right button. Finn knew all the service corridors, he knew how forgetful Stormtroopers could retrieve the entry codes without any of their superiors ever getting to hear of it, he knew where the cleaning crews would be at any given time. He even knew, from experience, how Captain Phasma would react if her beeper informed her that someone had tried entering her private quarters.
As they were waiting in the hallway just around the corner for her appearance, Finn was sweating so hard that his eyes were stinging. He could only hope that Solo had some plan not involving his participation, because truth be told, he was absolutely petrified with primal fear. Maybe he should have insisted on waylaying Kylo Ren – that way, death would at least be quick and possibly painless –
Then he remembered that he was doing this for Rey. He had let her down; if he hadn't deserted her, she might never have been kidnapped by Ren. He owed it to her to at least try and free her.
He heard Phasma's unmistakable footsteps and the metallic clamour her armour made (which was quite distinct from the plastic sound of standard Stormtrooper issue). His heart leapt to his throat. It was now or never, although he still had no clue what he was supposed to do. Thankfully, the Wookiee was already storming forwards (surprisingly quietly, not to say inaudibly) and simply pushed the captain forwards through the just opening door to her rooms. Solo grabbed Finn's elbow and pulled him along and three seconds later, they were standing inside Phasma's quarters. The captain had already bounced back to her feet and brandished her command staff.
"So what's your plan?" she sneered. "Even a Wookiee can't crush this armour."
"Give us your access cylinders, Captain," Finn said in a far too squeaky voice.
She recognised him and laughed out loud. "FN-2187! You dare showing your face again? Here? To me?!"
"The name is Finn, and I'm in charge now. You hear me? I'm in charge! I'm in charge now!"
"Cool it, kid," Solo said out of the side of his mouth.
They were standing in a kind of circle; the Wookiee and Solo pointed a Bowcaster and blaster at Phasma; she held her baton and a Sonn-Blas F-11D blaster rifle. Finn remembered only lately to raise the blaster Solo had given him.
"Mandalorian standoff –" Solo grinned. "I've always had a soft spot for those."
Phasma snorted. "A Mandalorian standoff is a confrontation in which neither side can win. I hate to remind you that your blaster can't penetrate my armour, while I can easily blow you away."
While Finn's stomach took another turn, Solo's grin widened a notch yet. "I'm sorry. I forgot to mention that I've got an activated thermal detonator in my pocket. As soon as taking my thumb off the trigger – for example because I've been shot – it will go off and I'm pretty certain your shiny armour won't help you then."
"You're bluffing," Captain Phasma voiced Finn's exact thoughts. But with the same cheerful expression, Solo took his left hand out of his pocket and produced a flashing detonator, safety pin visibly removed.
"You were saying?"
But Solo wasn't saying anything, because Phasma had made a lightning-quick movement with her staff, knocked the detonator out of his hand and while Finn was ready to make his peace with his maker, caught it already and turned it off. One more move knocked away Solo's and the Wookiee's weapons, the next aimed at Finn, but without exactly knowing what he did, he took advantage of having seen her first manoeuvre. He dropped his blaster and grabbed the staff with both hands instead, pulled hard, then pushed back even harder, making Phasma lose her balance for a second. It was enough. He managed to yank free the staff and delivered half a dozen blows that should have made her proud as his former teacher. Meanwhile, Solo had jumped forth and kept her from shooting Finn, but he lost the wrestling match for the rifle with her. She aimed at Finn once more, he could barely knock the rifle sideways; then she changed her tactics and used the rifle like a melee weapon, making it clear why there wasn't a Stormtrooper in the entire First Order who wasn't mortally scared of her. Finn managed to land a blow so hard as to dent her helmet, then the Wookiee tackled her from the side, she toppled and crashed against the wall sideways.
She moved no more. With extreme caution, Solo and Finn stepped closer, weapons at the ready until it became obvious that she was truly unconscious.
Solo removed all code cylinders and pocketed them.
"What do we do with her now?" Finn asked, still grabbing Phasma's baton.
Solo smiled beatifically. "Is there a garbage chute? A trash compactor?"
x X x
4.14. On the Horns of the Dilemma: on Starkiller Base, ABY 30/06/01, 19:35 GST
Every time I turn around
There's another face watching me
Every time I turn around
There's another voice calling me
Every time I turn around
There's another fool reading me
Every time I turn around
There's another silence drowning me
Porcupine Tree – And the Swallows Dance Above the Sun
The time for games is over, little girl, and this time we'll play by my rules, and if it hurts, you've only got yourself to blame! That what comes off trying to be nice, that's what you get for pitying someone –
So you did pity her!
Ph!
As if things aren't bad enough already, Kylo has yet another threat to face as he clearly senses his father nearby. He can feel him; his presence is as palpable as a very strong scent would be. It's a balmy dark brown, like leather, it would smell of leather, too, and machine oil, a hint of whiskey and sandalwood and xobola, it would sound like the sound at the edge of your hearing in hyperspace, like a bass guitar, like ice tinkling in a glass.
This situation reminds him of one of those little bedtime stories C-3PO used to tell him when he was still very young. It was about a fathier stuck between two stacks of hay, slowly starving because he just couldn't make up its head which one to eat. Just now, he is kind of stuck with the decision whom to pursue – the girl, with her growing awareness of the Force, or Han Solo, with his well-documented record of sabotage, not to mention any of the other sound reasons. He can't even simply go by following orders – 'bring the girl to me!' clashes with 'kill your father'.
As it stands, he decides to leave the girl alone for now – what damage can she do? Oh well, lots, obviously, but nothing compared to Han Solo, who has this dangerous penchant for blowing things up and who must know he hasn't got much time, so whatever it is, he'll do it soon.
"I want the vicinity of every entrance scanned for intruders," he barks into his comlink, puzzling the Stormtroopers following him who until now were looking for someone trying to get out, not in. To their great astonishment (and adding to their awe of their superior), only half a minute later they get to hear that an unidentified ship has landed only half a kilometre away from the oscillator facility. How it got there through the tightly controlled airspace around these top security facilities is luckily someone else's problem.
Once outside, Kylo scarcely feels the cold even though his armour isn't made for the sub-zero temperatures of this ice waste. Maybe it's the hot chagrin that keeps him warm, because he is well and truly furious. What did the old fool have to come here for?! Sudden paternal longing?! Does he really think he can do anything worth the risk? This is a whole planet, a real one, it doesn't come with an easily manipulated exhaust port! You could put a thermal detonator anywhere, it wouldn't make any difference. Damn it, the blasted cannon's design could withstand even an airstrike!
But still, he trudges on, a flock of faithful Stormtroopers in tow like ducklings. The light is already dim; if it wasn't for all the snow reflecting what little there still is, they'd need torches – well, the soldiers would; Kylo knows where he's going thanks to the Force. 500 metres feel like two thousand in the deep powdery snow and they advance only slowly, down another slope and through a small wood, up again, over another ridge and –
Knowing the Falcon is there and actually seeing it are two very different things. The first row of Stormtroopers nearly run into their leader, so suddenly has he stopped in his tracks, and there are distinctive sounds of clanking armours behind him but Kylo hears none of that. The Millennium Falcon… He has loved this ship, derelict as it always has been (and still is). There's an elegance about her clunkiness, a charm in her dirt and rust that he had no words for as a child.
Silly nostalgia, get on with it! What are you even doing here?!
The Stormtroopers hold their blasters at the ready, but Kylo knows Han Solo isn't there any longer. Still, he continues his way, swiftly and without hesitation, until he finally steps on board. It's like coming home. The same sounds, the same smells, dear lord, he's even still got that old sticker covering the scorch mark his son made with a blowtorch – 'Visit Balfron!' Pensively, he heads deeper into the ship until he reaches the cockpit. He learnt to fly in that seat. There are the dice with which, self-spun yarn has it, Han Solo once won the Falcon in a single game of chance. On this seat, his mother used to sit when she was on board, always reading something, always complaining that the headrest was too high because she's so short. There's the cupholder fashioned out of a discarded fuel pipe, the altigraph fixed with superglue, auburn hairs from Chewie's fur on the co-pilot seat, pieces of wire lying around everywhere as if someone had just yanked them out of a console… On the Millennium Falcon, nothing has changed, only the whole galaxy around it.
"Sir!"
He wakes from this reverie to the news of approaching fighters, Resistance fighters to be precise, and runs out to see a formation of X-wings taking course for the thermal oscillator. Unbelievable. What are those dunderheads in air control doing?!
And what are you doing, eh? There's nothing here for you, boy. Go back this instance and finish it!
x X x
4.15. The Grandmaster: aboard the Supremacy, ABY 27/04/04
If you learn how to rule one single man's soul, you can get the rest of mankind. It's the soul, Peter, the soul. Not whips or swords or fire or guns. That's why the Caesars, the Attilas, the Napoleons were fools and did not last. We will. The soul, Peter, is that which can't be ruled. It must be broken. Drive a wedge in, get your fingers on it—and the man is yours.
Ellsworth Toohey – The Fountainhead
"The leader of the Resistance has sent out sentinels to find Luke Skywalker, or so my sources tell me."
The sentence hangs in the air like a bad smell; the boy has no clue how to respond to it. He knows his initial reaction doesn't bear close scrutiny, his second – a remark along the lines of 'good, let her do the work for us' – is too short-sighted to be spoken out loud in my presence. So he does nothing and just stares ahead.
"The time has come to finish him," I go on with deliberation. "I trust you're looking forward to that task, my young apprentice?"
"With fervour," he replies through clenched teeth. I'm delighted to see that even after all those years, the sheer mention of his uncle's name still sets his pulse racing.
"And another inevitable confrontation is bound to occur soon. You know what I'm talking about?"
"It is time to vanquish the Resistance once and for all, master," he says like an apt student, even though his heart's not in it. He thinks he can get by on clever wording, but I can't have that.
"Come, come, don't be coy. Say it."
"Master?"
"I have forbidden the use of her name, but that does not apply when you and I are among ourselves."
"You are talking about my mother, I see. Well, that doesn't change a thing, does it? She must perish with the rest of the Resistance."
"Yes, she must perish. As long as she lives, others will gather around her and continue the fight. Your family has some tradition in bringing forth great leaders."
"Master," he whispers, abashed, hungry for approval as ever, however transparently untrue. His leadership skills are, frankly, slim to non-existent.
"I sense your uneasiness with such praise, and it does you credit. One day though, you will be a great leader, as great as your grandfather –"
"By the grace of your training, I might," he mumbles, his eyes glued to his feet and the colour rising in his cheeks. How am I to win wars with such material?! He could be the greatest warrior of the age, but he still blushes like a bashful virgin on the eve of her wedding!
"You must know that I think of you as my own successor, my boy," I bait him. "Look at me. I am old, I am frail. I only hope I am around long enough to see our venture come to full fruition."
I allow some seconds for his dutiful protestations. The worst is – he's being sincere. I don't know what I have to do to wake that lust for power in him that came so natural to his grandfather. He's interested in the potential, in the theory, and he enjoys fighting. But unlike his perpetual rival Hux junior, Kylo Ren doesn't crave actual power. It drives me mad, believe me.
"I know how much you yearn to fight Skywalker, yet I wish I could relieve you of that burden. He is, after all, Lord Vader's son and has inherited much of his father's strength. With all your skills, I still fear for you, my child. I'm afraid you're not ready yet to face a foe of such magnitude."
"I shall train harder, master."
It's not even a question of training, but of attitude. The boy has that in spades, but it's not the right kind.
I put on my most avuncular tones, "I can sense that you haven't yet shed all the ballast that is tethering you. Your parents…" His gaze swivels up before he's got a grip on himself, but I pretend not to notice. "Despite everything, I can feel that you still care for them. No, no, let me finish, child. I'm sure Skywalker imparted that bit of old Jedi wisdom: You have got to train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose. Do you understand what this means? That love is your greatest weakness. It means you are not free, you are dependent. In order to reach the next stage, the stage that would allow you to beat Skywalker, you need to be free though."
I let this sink in before going on. "Love is a feeling much like fear – they're very similar if you think about it; love always carries an element of fear, the fear of loss namely. The Jedi were fools in most respects, but they got this one down just right. Like fear, love can be – must be – overcome, otherwise it will continue to restrict you. It pains me to say it, but your parents must die, my dear boy."
"Yes, master. I know."
"And if at all possible, they must die by your own hands, do you see? It's the only way to ensure you are ready to face Skywalker."
I sense he's registering the leap in terms of logic (at least he's not entirely stupid, though I must say, it'd be easier if he was). No matter. Sufficient meditation on this point and some supervision through his good grandfather will fix this easily enough.
"Yes, master."
"Like this, you can see for yourself where you stand. Either you have managed to free yourself of their influence, and killing them will mean nothing to you. Or you will free yourself by killing them, and exorcise that dangerously detrimental weakness."
"Yes, master."
"Go now, my faithful apprentice. You have much to think about."
I watch him get to his feet and make one more respectful bow before sauntering to the exit in measured steps. I keep up the kindly smile until I'm sure the elevator door has closed.
I'm quite the connoisseur of human folly and regard my apprentice with self-satisfaction and pride as a prime example. This man-child has in him the seeds for true greatness, the whole full set of light and dark, the innate faculty for absolute supremacy. And yet, he'll never realise any of it. He will serve his first purpose – to vanquish my adversaries – and if he doesn't get killed, he'll fulfil the second just as well. He won't even know what hit him before it's all over.
But first, I've got to nip those dangerous attachments. As it stands, he has to kill his mother, to prove he doesn't care for her, or to free himself from his affection; it doesn't matter, the result will be the same. And the deed will finally break him open, destroy his soul and increase his dependence on the only person left (me!), prepare him for his glorious future. Pardon me. My glorious future.
During the thousand years of my life, I've never once lost a single game of dejarik.
x X x
4.16. On the Edge of the Precipice, Part One: on Starkiller Base, ABY 30/06/01, 21:56 GST
Time slips away
And the light begins to fade
And everything is quiet now
Feeling is gone
And the picture disappears
And everything is cold now
The dream had to end
The wish never came true
The Cure – Seventeen Seconds
This is it.
So the moment of confrontation has finally come. Deep down, hidden like a guilty secret, he has hoped it would never happen, for he knows very well what the outcome will be. He knows what he must do, and that his opponent doesn't stand a chance – won't even defend himself. He hates these moments, when facing an adversary that won't fight back. Killing someone in an open fight is one thing, killing them when they just stand there is… It is…
He shakes his head to dislodge the memory and enters the building housing the thermal oscillator. It's the logical choice if you know the first thing about Han Solo. He has clearly already been to the main complex and disabled airspace control, now he'll head for the top gun and try to take it out. The man has an m.o. and Kylo knows it by heart (he's heard it often enough). The light outside is no brighter than full moon by now. Another half-hour and it will be gone completely, and then – then…
He must not think what'll happen then.
"Find them," he instructs the Stormtroopers at his heels, then scans the gigantic structure. He never cared much for the First Order's proud technological marvels, this one in particular. Looking at it now, he is consumed by sheer disgust. How huge it is, how clever, how much work and thought and effort have been wasted onto this machine of cosmic death. What could have been achieved, had all the labour and resources it represents been poured into something useful!
Now this embodiment of extravagance and destruction will become the site of yet more pointless death. He knows his father is here, so close by he can taste him. If only the old man has enough sense to leave – but he won't, Kylo knows him too well to hope for that. Han Solo is an unwilling hero by accident, he has a healthy sense for self-preservation, which is, eventually, always overruled by his love of grand-standing.
Oh, Kylo has hoped to never see this day! He knows what he ought to do, but in spite of his confident oaths, he never really believed he could pull it through, and hoped he would never have to face this test of strength.
You are the heir to Darth Vader, there is nothing you couldn't do.
Just before stepping onto the narrow catwalk that will take him to the other side, he halts once more and looks over his shoulder. He's here, right behind him, behind one of those pillars probably. He knows he's watching, even if he can't actually see him there. What he does see though is the rapidly fading light of the nameless star, sole sun of a nameless system that is going to be plunged into devastation without its light, which they're sucking dry in order to destroy the Ileenium system. Only this morning – this morning! – they obliterated another star, another entire system; he can still feel the aftershocks. He dreads to think how much more he is going to feel this one. His mother is on D'Qar, one of those planets that, after eons of existence, aren't going to be there anymore in an hour or so.
The thought of her takes him straight back to his hidden pursuer, which makes him advance onto the catwalk after all.
You're running away from him, you coward!
Well, that's exactly what he's doing, he won't deny it, couldn't deny it from himself, or his dead ancestor admonishing him in his head. If they never meet, there won't be a confrontation. There's nothing he can do to save his mother, but Han Solo may still live.
"Ben!"
He's right in the middle atop this fathomless chasm when he hears the cry and freezes for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turns to face the man whom he so dearly wished never to lay eyes on again in this life. How come, after years and years of not being there, he's got to be here just now?!
He abandoned you. He abandoned your mother. He was never ever there.
"Han Solo," he sighs, "I've been waiting for this day for a long time."
Use the Force to push him off and let him fall to his death!
The old man uneasily advances over the catwalk, then stops. "Take off that mask. You don't need it."
What is it with the mask today?!
"What do you think you'll see if I do?"
"The face of my son."
Hearing the familiar voice is compelling. What is more – he'd really like to see his father for real, not through the visor with all its technological gimmicks. So he acquiesces.
They stare at each other for a minute in wonderment. Kylo almost recoils; the man over there is much changed from the man he remembers. Obviously, he's much older. And shorter than in his son's memory – last time they met, Han was still slightly taller than his son. And there's something different about his eyes, too, as if some light had gone out of them. There used to be a sparkle, now there's only sadness.
Because he's old and useless, and he knows it.
Before he gets all sentimental, he snarls, "Your son is gone. He was weak and foolish – like his father. So I destroyed him."
Even Kylo can hear how petulant this sounds, how childish, how badly his voice quavers, as if he was on the verge of tears. Which, truth be told, he is. He is the greatest warrior in the galaxy, but put him in a room with his father and he regresses into a forlorn five-year-old.
"That's what Snoke wants you to believe, but it's not true," Han Solo continues and comes closer. "My son is alive."
This dialogue is straight out of one of Ushar's beloved radio shows, too ludicrous for words yet impossible to turn off, and like an idiot, Kylo parrots the first thing coming to his mind, "No, the Supreme Leader is wise."
Yes, he is!
"Snoke is using you for your power. When he gets what he wants, he'll crush you."
It's not just that deep inside, Kylo knows this to be more than likely which makes him step back. It is also the intensity of his father's gaze, the love in it, the pleasant cadences of his voice and deeply felt entreaty it carries.
"You know it's true."
No, it isn't! The Supreme Leader loves you like a son, he's building this empire only so you can inherit it one day –
But what would Kylo want with an empire?! As for 'loving him like a son' – he's just standing in front of his father, and for all his faults, he suddenly understands his father loves him more than the master is even capable of. He can feel it, even now, even after all he has done…
Yes! What have you done! Do you think there's any coming back from that? Do you honestly believe you'll be forgiven? Remember Grenolaver! Remember Wobani! Remember Tuanul! You murdered every single Jedi except Luke Skywalker, and speaking of him -
"It's too late," he manages to whisper, battling down the urge to throw himself into the arms of the first hero he ever had.
"No, it's not." He can sense his father's sincerity, sees him taking another step forward. "Leave here with me. Come home. We miss you."
It takes all his willpower not to break into tears. The line is as cheesy as it gets, but for all its sentimentality, it touches a chord that Kylo hasn't felt in a long, long time. Home. He thought he could never ever go back home. 'We miss you'. He truly believed his parents never wanted to see him again. But he can feel his father's emotions and knows how mistaken he was.
Don't give in! Don't listen to him! You have been trained to deal with this. This is just a test – a trap! He lulls you in with his pretty words, but in the end, he'll desert you like he always deserted you. You're no longer eight, damn it!
"I'm being torn apart," he says, voicing it for the first time ever and feeling strangely relieved. "I want to be free of this pain."
You will be. This is it. Kill him now and rid yourself of the pain forever!
"And I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it."
You do have it, you are my grandson, you are more powerful than you dare dreaming! Kill this traitor, kill him, kill him!
"Will you help me?"
If you really can't kill him, walk away now. There'll be another day, another chance.
His father takes the final step towards him. "Yes! Anything!"
Despite the internal screams of protest in his head, Kylo drops his helmet and takes his lightsabre, gives it one last look, then proffers it to his father in supplication. It's over. They will go home.
In the second that Han takes the hilt, the light fades out, reminding his son that in only a few minutes, the First Order will have blown up D'Qar and with it his mother. There will be no home to go back to. It is over. Just not the way it ought to have been.
Yes, it's over, it's well and truly over. Now be a man and show the old guy some mercy. He's got nothing to go back to either, and unlike you, he has only a past, not a future.
Han pulls the sword but Kylo doesn't let go, once more torn. It is no use. He can't fight this. There may be light, but it has no power over the darkness. And once both his parents are dead, perhaps the pull won't hurt as much.
Exactly! Kill him and be free! Do it! DO IT!
He ignites the blade and stabs his father through the chest without resistance. Han has not reckoned with this (neither has Kylo, if he's quite honest with himself) and looks shocked. Kylo is both frozen, and engulfed by a swift surge of energy running through his veins, a triumphant jubilation that is much at odds with everything else and feels bizarre, even alien. He pushes the blade deeper until the handle crushes against the ribs.
"Thank you," he gasps and truly means it. His father has given his life for his son to be free. He removes the blade. Han staggers, uses his last breath to reach out and touch his son's cheek. This is the worst part yet. His touch is warm, soft, forgiving, and forgiveness and love are in his eyes and in his heart, which Kylo can feel as clearly as he can see the dying man.
Han's heart stops and he keels over the gangplank, leaving his son floored. The onslaught of emotions is so strong, he can barely keep himself on his feet. Fury, regret, remorse, loathing, disbelief and utter confusion and over all, an unanswerable feeling of loss wash over him like a gigantic wave and threaten to push him over as well and follow his father down into the pit.
x X x
Author's note: If you enjoyed this chapter, I'd be chuffed if you left a review. The same goes if you did not enjoy it, or liked parts and disliked others.