11/1/1

"Who's up, next, C8?" Kylo asks.

"Carella D'Vrys, the ambassador from the Qualeen system."

Kylo shakes his head. He's got no idea who that is. "Tell me more."

"A small system, rich, on the edge of the core worlds. It's three inhabited planets, one hard mineral mining planet, closest to its sun, and two gas giants further out. They provide about 2/3rds of the tetra-hydra-flourine market. About twenty-billion people, mostly humans."

"All right." There's a billion plus inhabited planets in the galaxy, 64,000 systems in the chunk of it he's working with, and he's got absolutely no idea who these people are. "Do we have any interest in them?"

"We have seventeen recruiting stations on the inhabited planets resulting in a ten thousand or so recruits a month."

Okay, he's got interest in them. "Slaves?"

"Unlikely. It's illegal."

That many a month means they're running from something. Slavery was his best first guess, but maybe it's a terrible system. "Government?"

"Council of Oligarch. Amalthea L'Onn is the current Prima of the Council. Anyone with a net worth of more than 5,000,000,000 credits can buy a place on the council, though they have to maintain that wealth to maintain that place."

That's not terribly enlightening. Kylo's certainly heard of worse methods of picking leaders. "How do you make that sort of money there?"

"Mining, trade, banking… They have a booming medical trade."

Kylo doesn't know what that means, and apparently it's clear enough on his face that even C8 can read it.

"Youth regeneration treatments. Cutting edge cybernetics. Genetic blending."

"Military?"

"Enough so the New Republic thought cultivating alliance with them was worthwhile. Enough so that Snoke did not directly attack them. Not so much that they seek out to conquer neighboring systems."

Kylo thinks about that. "Maybe they're seeking a contract to deal with our wounded. Not like we don't routinely need cybernetic components." He makes a note to check on that. Right now, he's likely the single largest customer for bio-cybernetics, and if he could get the people to get more of that in house… Later… That's for later.

"They certainly could be, though the Ambassador did not say why she wanted the meeting when she set it."

"Okay."

Kylo's been working on navigating the waters of how to greet people and let them know he's the highest ranking person in the room, without intimidating them into a spineless puddle. His underlings seem to appreciate it, and he's noticed that things like meetings go better if the people he's attempting to meet with are not so scared they're in danger of wetting themselves.

He's found that greeting people in his throne room, looming over them, tends to make them so nervous it's hard to get to the meat of whatever it is they're supposed to be doing. These days, he understands why that was Snoke's preferred method. He had no interest in working withanyone, he just wanted to suck all of the fear and pain he could out of them, and then destroy what was left.

Since Kylo's attempting to actually rule, he can't keep using that technique, unless he already knows the outcome of a situation, and wants whomever he's dealing with to fear him.

These days, he generally meets with other heads of state or ambassadors in his office, sitting behind his desk, leaving the throne room empty. Walking through it seems to have a much milder, yet still slightly unsettling feel to it.

Likewise, him, alone, not a guard in sight, in his office, behind his desk, in his command blacks, which as he meets with more and more Ambassador-types, are apparently freakishly casual, seems to also have an unsettling effect. He's not playing the game the way it's normally played, and that puts people off foot, making it easier for him to see what they want and why they've come to him.

He's taken to keeping his lightsaber in his desk when he's working. From his side of the desk, it's perfectly clear that the drawer the saber is in has no front. He can reach it easily, silently, and if he's not at the desk he can pull it to him without hesitation, but like Kinear says, if you're working for peace, maybe you don't need to be sitting there with a weapon on your person.

He doesn't stand up when they enter. And he doesn't shake hands. He's exiled both of those bits of theater to formal gestures like state dinners.

So, he sits at his desk, and watches the Qualeen Ambassador walk across his office. As she gets within a few feet of his desk, he pulls a chair out for her with the Force. It is, as Luke would say, a trick, but it's a trick that puts most people in their place.

It's not hostile, but it is a vivid reminder that he can bring so much more fight to a fight than they can.

She sees the chair pull out, raises an eyebrow, and then elegantly seats herself in it.

Carella D'Vrys looks like the kind of woman who has not only never been intimidated, but might not actually know the definition of the word.

She puts him in mind of a friend of his mother… He only met her a few times, as a child, though she certainly burned her name into the memory of anyone who was on the Supremacy, Amilyn Holdo.

She's tall, slim, elegant. Holds herself with the easy grace of the truly confident.

She looks young, but he's certain there's no way she's actually a teenager. With his eyes closed, just going by the feel of her, he'd say she's closer to fifty. Apparently C8 was not exaggerating when he mentioned 'youth treatments.'

"Madam D'Vrys, what brings you to my office?"

"Master Ren, I'm here on behalf of the Unified Planets of the Qualeen System."

He doesn't roll his eyes, but he'd assume that if you're an ambassador that's to be taken for granted.

"Of course." He waits for her to get to why she's here.

She doesn't say anything, and then he gets it. There are rumors that he can read minds, and she's testing to see if he can pick it out of her head unspoken.

"Yes, I can. I prefer not to. Again, what brings you here? The likelihood of me offering it to you drops the longer you play games with me."

"You have a recruiting station in each of our largest cities. We'd like you to remove them."

Well, that was blunt. He wasn't expecting her to get to it that quickly, or to make that request. It makes him blink, and he can see she's also surprised that he wasn't expecting that. "Why? You aren't a slave planet."

"That's exactly why. You offer slavers a droid to replace their workers. Because ours receive a wage, when they leave, we're left in the lurch."

"You would like us to offer… a droid to whomever my recruits used to work for?"

This time he's hit her with something she wasn't expecting. He can feel that he was supposed to just turn her down flat. At least at this point in the negotiations. There's something she wants, he can feel that, but… it's not droids, but she's keeping her mind so tightly clenched he can't… well, won't… pull it out. "No. We'd like you to close up shop and leave. Your recruiters are destabilizing in an inappropriate way."

"Destabilizing how?"

Her voice is icy. "Are you honestly trying to make me believe you don't know?"

He can feel what she's afraid of. Maybe. Again there's something deeper, but she's keeping it closed down. This woman has a formidable mind. She's used to keeping her thoughts tightly controlled. He spends another moment just feeling her. Maybe she doesn't want him to know what he's taking from her… Maybe.

He does know her top thoughts, that legions of his citizens coming home at the ends of their terms is not in her best interest. That they'll spread ideas. He's not sure how fast it's spreading. By his best guess, it'll be at least twenty years before he's got enough of his citizens retired anywhere to be a problem for anyone, but… Obviously she… they think this is going to move faster.

"I honestly want to know how you think it's working out on your planets. We can't come to an accord if we don't communicate." He's feeling like that's a pretty good line and he might want to use it again.

"The ones who leave tend to be in low-paying sectors. In order to keep them, we have to pay them more. That drives up the wages in those sectors, which increases prices everywhere else."

She's falling back on economics, so he hits back with economics. "Droids would take care of that. What you'd save on wages for one of them would more than take care of any raises you'd have to offer the others to get them to stay." Though at this point, he's got no idea how he's going to pay for even more droids, but he doesn't think it's going to matter, she's not going to take him up on this. Droids aren't what she wants.

Her eyes narrow slightly, and he can feel it. Just the idea that they might, at some point, be citizens is spreading fast. Whether they'd contemplate joining the Order or not, it's starting to get them thinking about more. He's not just putting pressure on her system in terms of wages, but it terms of rights.

"Ah… We're putting inappropriate thoughts in their heads. Your people are subjects. They have no real control over their own lives until they amass great wealth, and unless they're brilliant, or beautiful, or already in a family of great wealth, they can't get great wealth. When they hear about my system, they start to want something similar. They want a chance for some control over the state they belong to.

"Right now, there aren't many of them choosing The Order, but you fear that those numbers will increase exponentially, especially after members start getting out and coming back."

DeVrys blinks. "That's… concise and not particularly nuanced, but accurate enough. They are laborers. They do not have the information or the capability to understand the information to make the sort of good decisions necessary to run a stable system."

He knows she's lying about something there, but not what. This woman would be a holy terror with Force skills. "Interesting. I'd think that would be my problem, after all, they'll be voting for me to do things, not you."

"For a week. And then they'll start demanding a vote from us, too."

He shrugs that off. "People don't enjoy being treated like livestock. Amazing. What will you do to make it worth my while to leave?"

Her eyes are cold. "I think you are misunderstanding. This is being offered as a polite request, but it is an order. The Council of Oligarchs of the System of Qualeen is telling you to remove your recruiting stations from our sovereign territory. You are no longer welcome within the borders of our system."

"Ah." He feels… something… It's not a threat. There's… supposed to be more to this. It feels a little like when Schiff was more or less daring him to succeed at being a person. Though, this is genuinely antagonistic. She wants something from him, but… She wants control of the script, and right now she doesn't have it. She's trying to reclaim it. "I'll consider it. Would you consent to wait a day, let me talk to my advisors, before rendering a decision?"

She stands, and he can feel her relief. He's behaving 'appropriately' apparently. "Certainly, Master Ren."

He offers her a smile. "Thank you."

He hasn't even assembled his commanders when C8 says, "We've gotten the first distress call, sir. Your stations are under attack."

That surprises him, too. There was no hint of a threat in D'Vrys. She had something behind the façade, a blade on her ankle, or the diplomatic equivalent, but… not this.

Well, he's got a response for nasty surprises. The First Order pretty much only ever had one strategic play: overwhelming, crushing, force. And though Kylo assumes there will be times for other tactics, he's thinking now isn't one of them.

"Mobilize everything we can move. Get my personal fighter ready, and have it hooked into the command system. Get my fleet in the air, and the citykillers armed and ready. I want transport ships, big ones, at each of our recruiters, with any and all protections necessary to get them on the ground and our people on them. We're taking our recruiters, and any recruits, and then we're blowing their capitol and every city where they mustered an attack off the map."

"Yes, sir." C8 goes quiet, and Kylo knows he's conveying those orders. He nods, striding, fast, to his room to suit up and get ready to fight.

"Get my Stormtroopers the biggest flags the Order has, and find out whichever city is the biggest one that will be left when we're done. Tomorrow, our colors will fly from every state building in that city, and we're naming it the new Capitol of Qualeen, under the Order."

"Yes, sir."

He shuts the door behind him and begins pulling off his blacks, ready to suit up. His saber is already in his hand. He didn't realize he pulled it, though didn't ignite it, while he was speaking. He gives it a gentle, loving stroke, and feels his body thrill at this.

He loves this. It's been more than two years, and he can't wait to get back into a real fight. He's seeing his way through it, exploring different possible futures, taking calls from his other generals and admirals, as they get the basic orders and get their own troops into play.

He's nodding, fastening his belt, as Admiral Lunryt, who controls the furthest region of his space says, "We're three weeks out, sir, at hyperspeed. You still want us to make the trip?"

"Send a tenth of them. It'll probably just be an exercise in how quickly you can assemble and get moving, but if this takes longer than expected, fresh troops will come in handy."

"Yes, sir."

He's fastening his helmet, annoyed at his hair getting tangled in the damn thing, and that's suddenly forgotten as, "You've got a fight!" Rey says, appearing before him, looking nervous for him.

Since he's in head to toe armor, he's figuring that's pretty self-evident.

"My recruiting stations are under attack, and I'm about to make sure no one else tries that, again." He'd forgotten the tone the vocoder added to his voice, and it sounds harsh and alien to both of them.

"I'm going with you." He's eager for a fight. He wants this battle, wants to do what he was made for. She doesn't want a fight. She's got no desire for blood. But she's not wanting him going in naked, unprotected. That makes him smile, he's covered in the best armor money can buy, with an entire army and fleet going with him, and she still considers him undefended if he goes in without her.

He quickly unclasps the mask, and then pulls her near for a kiss. She feels both his lips, and the reason why he's done that. The armor plates embedded in his combat blacks aren't particularly visible, but she feels them between her and his skin. As he pulls the mask back over his head, stepping back, he says, "Let me get you real armor, and I would be honored and happy to have you at my back. Until then, no."

"I could go anyway. Anywhere you are, I can follow."

He gently squeezes her hands in his, his thumb stroking over the ring he put on her middle finger. His voice deep and harsh from the vocal moderator in the mask. His words are gentle, though. "I know. But I'd appreciate you not doing it. Not without armor. I want to be able to concentrate on the fight, not fear for you."

She glares up at him. That's a ridiculously reasonable request, and since he's already gotten himself armor, it's not like she can call him out for a double standard.

She reaches up, rests both of her palms against the mask, and steps up onto her tiptoes, he bows down, and though he can't feel it, he knows she just kissed the forehead of his mask.

"Come back."

He smiles under the mask, and she can feel how much he's looking forward to a real fight. "I will."

And then he's out of his room, listening to yet another of his commanders giving him an ETA.

As he's almost left the room, he says to C8, "Find DeVrys, and toss her into a cell. She agreed to give me a day."

"She's left, sir."

"Then shoot her ship down."

"Sir… She's an Ambassador. We… guarantee their safety, otherwise they tend to be wary about visiting us."

His teeth grit. "Then nicely, safely, for her own good, capture her ship, and in a day, when there is no more Qualeen system for her to be an ambassador of, have her executed for treason."

"Yes, sir."

He's in his ship, ready to lead his squadron out, when something hits him. They get 10,000 or so Qualee a month. The Order isn't exactly filled with them, but that's a lot of his people with friends, family, and attachments to those planets and cities.

"C8, make sure every one of our recruits from the Qualeen system know we're coming. Tell them to make sure their friends and family get out of the cities with recruiting stations."

"Sir?"

"The Order takes care of its own."

Getting planet-side means dogfighting. It's been almost two years since he's done that, too, and it's marvelous.

His TIE isn't exactly his saber. He's too far from the threat and from his kills, but it's something. It's beautiful black and red death spinning through space, weaving a path of destruction, clearing the way for the fighters and troop transports behind him.

And he loves it.

It's glorious.

He hits the ground, stride powerful, heady, saber bleeding red next to him, all of his power, all of his darkness thundering through him in an electrifying caress.

He figures there's likely five thousand troops between him and his recruiting station. A decent enough number, beyond overkill to take out onebarely fortified building, but not quite enough to stand against a concentrated wave of Order power.

They start shooting almost before the hatch to his ship opens, and he wills them to keep going, shoot faster, shoot more, between the armor and his command of the Force, nothing gets closer to him than his saber. He's knocking blasts away from himself like an indolent Hutt might flick away flies. Barely any effort is involved, and the flies get the worst end of the deal.

He feels when the first boots hit the ground behind him. Here's the test of if any of the new armor is any better. He doesn't just want them shooting at him because it feels good, but because he knows it won't hurt him.

He grins, nothing here can hurt him. Damage him maybe, but not hurt. Nothing hurts when you're doing what you love. What you were born for. All the rest of it… That's just the thing necessary to get him here.

He closes the distance between himself and the front line, and just a few passes of his left hand sends troops staggering against each other, adding his saber to the mix means that arms and legs and heads are flying, now, too.

He amps his power, letting his hate, his rage, his anger, his dark flow through him, and they break. They're running, fast and hard, trying to get away from him, knowing that he's death, and if he gets within range, that's the end of them.

Blaster fire is coming from behind him now, which means his ground troops have closed the distance, too. He hasn't bothered to look behind him to see if they're following, he can feel it.

He gestures with the saber, swinging it in an arc toward their main recruiting station.

He can't see it through the smoke, but he can feel it has taken serious fire. He was only two hours away, but two hours is a long time to hold out in an unfortified building with only a few dozen recruiting officers and a few hundred utterly untrained recruits. They built a perimeter, enough of one, to provide some protection. There are still people, his people alive in there.

He can feel them. His people, waiting for him to get them out, and to teach anyone who'd dare raise a hand to them… to him… to never do that again.

He smirks. He loves this lesson. Teaching it makes his heart sing. This is what Snoke kept dangling in front of him, but could never give him. This isn't just dark. It's righteous dark. It's letting every milliliter of his anger, rage, hate, and pain spill out against people who deserve it. And it feels so good.

He's not just dark here, he's perfect, vicious justice. He's wrath without a breath of mercy, but deserved wrath. Here, now, he's sheltering dark. He's the thing in the night that protects his own, and savages anything that would harm them.

And here, now, he is perfect. He is power and purpose and everything, anything he ever wanted to be.

If communing with Rey is where he hits his peak of light, this is his peak of dark. And he wonders slightly, in the back of his head, as he halts a blaster bolt aimed at his back, and steps to the side before sending his saber in a wide, decapitating arc, if Rey would be as happy here in peak dark as he is in peak light.

He can see the station ahead of him. It's battered, but holding, and he can feel, though not hear, the wave of relief. They know he's coming for them, and that he's going to get them out. People have died here today. More people will die here, today. But his people won't go unremembered or unavenged.

"Transport ships, report in."

He listens, continuing to cut his way through the troops surrounding his recruiting station. They're moving, but not moved into position, yet. Twenty minute before he can start the evac.

"Squad leaders?" He has to pause in listening to that report, as he gets closer to the station, he, and his men, finally begin to tangle against fighters who aren't mere blaster fodder. These fights take some effort, and he relishes it. Even the hits he takes, the tiny bites of pain as the occasional fist or foot or vibroblade strikes, make him feel good. Alive. Valuable. He can feel his men behind him, surging forward, coming to fight by his side. The last time anyone felt like this about him, he had the Knights of Ren at his command, and though he tries not to think on it too often, he can feel how much he's missed that.

"Continue," he says, at the top of the steps leading to what used to be a recruiting station and is now a battered pile of rubble. He nods, hearing that they are definitely fighting in the sky above him. Much too far for him to see, even if his view of the sky wasn't clouded by smoke and dust.

The dogfighting is hot, and they are taking minor damage to their destroyers and larger ships, but the citykillers had no problem taking out everything larger than a destroyer in the Qualeen fleet, so it's only minor damage. He's got a faint voice in his head telling him that the citykillers are moving into place over the cities.

Kylo scans the battle around him. Not much fighting left. Anyone who wants to drop a weapon and run away from him, he's fine with letting run. He and his have closed onto the station, and his men are going through, looking for anyone with his symbol on them. Through the smoke, he can't see his transports coming down, but he can hear them. He can't see the battle above him in the sky, but he can still hear the reports, and feel the thunder of ships exploding.

A clanking rattle hits him from the left, and he knows that's not his men. "EAST!" He and his men turn, waiting, he shifts the wind, stirring the smoke, but not really clearing it… Eventually shapes form to go with the sound, armored land cruisers… He sighs. Not what he wants to fight with a lightsaber. The damn things are hardened and have anti-aircraft and troop suppressing guns. He'll take them on if he has to, but that's more fire than he'd like to take with just a saber. "Air support."

"Getting there, sir… I've got visual confirmation… Give us…" Fighters go streaking over his head, strafing the cruisers. The noise roars against him for a second before the heat and staggering thud of explosions hit.

Close enough they felt the boom, not so close they took damage from it.

"Thank you, Squad Leader."

"No problem, sir. There are more of them coming from the west."

A different voice says, "Not anymore" a bare second after the distant thud of exploding equipment hits them.

"Clear anything that can take a good shot at the transports out of the area," Kylo orders.

He gets a collection of variations on the theme of "Will do!"

Over the next ten minutes, standing in front of the rubble of what used to be his recruiting station in what used to be the capitol of the Qualeen System, he can hear the battle winding down, though not yet done, people keep taking shots at him that he either stops and steps out of the way of, or swats to the side.

He likes this less than the fight, but this is part of the image he's projecting. Part of what Jon talks about. He's letting everyone in the universe know they can't hit him.

He continues to get reports as his different strike teams clear the threats out of each city his recruiters are in.

When the last one calls in, he checks his chronometer. Seventeen hours from now marks exactly one day since the Qualee laid arms against his stations. He switches his feed from just speaking to his commanders to broadcasting on every and all available frequencies.

"This is Kylo Ren, Master of the Order. For the last seven months, we'd been peacefully recruiting all over the United Qualeen System. For the last seven months, your fellow Qualee joined me or not as they saw fit, and we got along in peace and harmony. I did not demand you join me, because I do not want unwilling citizens. Today your government fired on my stations, unprovoked, having decided that allowing you the freedom to choose what to do with your life would be dangerously destabilizing for this system.

"This ends now. Anyone and everyone who wishes to join me, may. My transport ships are waiting and will take everyone who wants to get away from here. What you do after that is up to you, join me, don't, I do not care. I am providing transport for any who wish to evac with me, no conditions attached.

"Anyone who wants to run… Run fast and run far. Get outside the city limits.

"Anyone who stays… May your gods have mercy on your souls and May the Force be with you." He feels the wave of fear washing over him. Everyone within the range of his voice is about to panic.

"You have seventeen hours." And the panic breaks, and he feels the flood of it.

He stands there, in the center of the melee, in the eye of the tornado, relishing it.

Rey thought she would hate this. She thought waiting, knowing he's in danger, feeling the battle through him, would be torture.

But it's not.

She can feel it through their bond, through her skin, in her heart and soul, through his. This. This moment here, and that moment there, and the thrum of blood, the power of the fight.

She's spoken about dark but not evil. Talked about an abstract idea. Something she could imagine, but not really live, she doesn't have enough dark to live it, but she can feel it through him.

If she closes her eyes, and lets herself settle, she can feel the sweat in his hair and on his skin, smell the smoke, see his blade, and his arm extending out, halting the oncoming fire. She can feel his dark, hardening around him into a protective shield of magic and Force.

She can feel that dark extending out, wrapping his troops in that same protective embrace.

He said once, that the job of the Master is to lead and protect, and today, he's finally, truly The Master.

Seventeen hours is a long time.

And once the fighting is more or less done, they don't actually need him on the ground.

He returns to the Supremacy, where the first wave of transport ships are coming in, bringing his recruits and people running from the destruction of the main cities. He'll return them to Qualee, if they want to go, after.

Right now, he's watching them staring around the main flight deck of the Supremacy, beyond stunned into silence.

He returns to his rooms, takes off the mask, but not the rest of his armor. If he needs to get planet-side again, he wants to be ready to go, fast.

"Bring me Carella D'Vrys, C8."

"Yes, sir."

And a few moments later, she's back. This time, she is not calm and un-intimidated. She's furious.

"You said you'd wait a day!" she yells at him. Her anger, and feeling of betrayal is real.

"So did you! We were under attack before I moved."

She shakes her head. "No! I had orders to give you the ultimatum, make sure you understood your stations were not welcome, and see what you'd offer to keep them. We weren't going to attack."

He watches and feels and knows that's what her orders were. She's so angry her control has shattered, and all of her plans, everything she was here to do today are at the top of her head.

"Whoever was giving you orders didn't tell you what was going to happen today."

Her eyes narrow. She's watching him, and Force talent or no, she knows he's not lying, either.

"Why did you run?" he asks.

"I was barely out of your office and got word that you'd already given the orders to attack. The man who breaks his word on a truce likely won't keep it on safe passage and treatment of ambassadors."

They both understand they got word of the attack at the same time.

"Who let you know of the attack?" he asks.

Her eyes are bitter, planning. "Likely the same person who called the attack. General K'Rias."

"And where do you think the General would be right now?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure you can find out."

Kylo smiles, and it's a terrifying gesture. "Yes. I can. Like every other Qualee, you have the option of joining me, of staying here to weather the storm and then doing or going where you like, or you may run." He checks his chronometer. "There are fourteen hours between now and when I destroy every city where you attacked my recruiting stations."

"You're… letting people evacuate?"

"I'm offering them transport, too. I, obviously, cannot let you destroy my stations, but I have no need or desire to slaughter bystanders en masse."

She blinks at him, watching carefully, and then shakes her head. She hands him the comm she wears on her wrist. "It's my code. You can use it to find the General."

He takes it, and nods. "Thank you. If you stay here, you will continue to have diplomatic credentials."

"My life is in my home."

He scoffs at that. "Your life is in your skin, Ambassador. I wouldn't risk it for trinkets. Even with my people there, an evac is not pleasant. Stay here, rebuild after."

"Is that an order?" she bites out, but he can feel she's also curious, not sure if he's telling her she can't go back.

"No. It's a suggestion. I only give orders to people who have chosen my leadership. That was the idea you found so threatening, correct? That people could choose who they serve?"

She snorts a quick laugh at that. "Good luck, Master Ren."

He nods at her, and says, "May the Force be with you," as she leaves.

Six hours later, after he's set up an office in what used to be the Mayor's home in Untrrch, what will be the largest city left on Qualee Prime in five hours when his citykillers are done with the planet, General K'Rias is brought to him, he has one question for her. "Were they your orders, or someone else's?"

The General smiles at him, a little. Like D'Vrys she looks ridiculously young. Younger than he is. Younger than Rey is, but he has to assume they don't let eighteen-year-olds mobilize the entire Qualeen armed forces on a whim.

"Mine." She answers, looking him up and down. "Why?"

He can feel that's accurate, enough. She isn't intentionally lying to him, though it's possible someone suggested to her this would be a good plan. But no one told her to do it.

"Because I intend to cut the head off the person who ordered the attack, and if that wasn't you, then I would have liked to have known who it was."

"Me." She's remarkably unperturbed about her upcoming decapitation. He wonders idly if she's been drugged, but doesn't feel the murk of chemical sedatives flowing through her. He lets his mind flow through hers… not drugs… righteous dark.

Apparently, it's a dual edged blade, but he knows that. He's cut himself on his own blade more times than he can count, and he's rubbing up against it now.

By moving, going after his recruiting station, she's triggered his attack. His attack has cleared the board for her people to move up.

She quirks a half smile at him. "You'd die for your Order, Master Ren?"

"If need be, General. I'd prefer to live for it, though."

She doesn't have to say anything else. He doesn't know who the person she's thinking of is. He assumes he'll find out soon enough, because he'll end up dealing with whomever runs the Qualeen System when this is done. But, whomever she's thinking of, it's warm and fond, laced through with a gnawing desire for power, and the utter, hard, certainty that under that person, things will get better for those she cares about.

He half-inclines his head. If one of his Knights had been willing to sacrifice themselves to take out Snoke, and move him higher… He would have been grateful. And if one of them thought they could take out Snoke by sacrificing themselves… He can see it, knows it would have happened. But none of them thought they could touch Snoke, let alone remove him from the game.

"Where are we?" Rey asks a few hours later, as she moves closer to Kylo, going to wrap him in her arms.

He's at the window looking out. "Untrrch, what used to be the Mayor's home, and as of four hours from now, the largest city left in the Qualeen system."

It's a large flat, with high, wide windows overlooking what, to Rey, looks like an enormous expanse of buildings, most of which have windows glowing gold against black night. At the far left of the window, she sees something black flapping, on the outside. She's fairly sure it's the mark of the Order, flying over the capitol building of Untrrch.

She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head against his back. "Still in your armor." It's not a question.

"Until I get back to the Supremacy."

"Are you going to ask that I leave again?"

"I'd prefer you weren't with me, here, in a barely secured building, without armor."

"Then come home with me."

"If—"

"You have a comm, and they know how to reach you. And, even with armor, I'd prefer you weren't sleeping in a barely secured building. Come home."

"I wasn't going to sleep."

"Then all the more reason to come with me. Catch a nap, and I'll guard you sleep, and keep eyes on the comm."

He nods, and shifts them back to Lirium.

He didn't expect to be able to sleep. His fight, hot and eager, doesn't exactly go hand in hand with easy slumber. It's also been twenty-six hours since he's slept, and when he hits the bed, even in his armor, because if he needs to move fast, he doesn't want to be scrambling for it, he drifts off, fast.

He wrapped his dark around his men to protect them, put himself between them and blaster fire, and it made his heart sing.

Right now, in their bed, he can sense her light around him, soothing, banishing his high-alert, jangling nerves.

Her light wraps around him, guarding his sleep, and when he wakes in three hours, he's tired, but better than he would have been without it, and ready for what comes next.

Before he leaves, he kisses her, and says, "It'll be on the holovids, all over. If you would fight by my side, I would have you there for this as well."

She looks tired. "I don't think you need a protector for this."

He kisses her again. "Maybe not, but perhaps I want one?"

She kisses back. "Am I your protector?"

"My savior." He kisses her again, hard.

She's almost taken aback by that, never having thought about it in those terms, but thinking it, feeling it, feeling where she was before… "And mine."

He steps back a little, enough to put the mask on.

"Take it off, before you strike."

"I intend to."

Cities, by nature of being cities, are not build upon fault lines, not if they can help it. So, though each planet of the Qualeen system takes multiple hits from his citykillers, none of them shatter.

And, as he said it would, first thing in the next morning, the largest city left on each of the planets flies his colors. Black banners flutter against blaster marked buildings.

And before the day ended, by the count of the imperial standard chronometer on the Supremacy, he asks the woman, General K'Rias, kneeling at his feet, if she has any last words before he takes her head off, with his lightsaber, in front of more than a hundred thousand of his troops and a million Qualee, all packed into the Untrrch city center. The remaining 14 million people on his ship, mostly refugee Qualee, and trillions of people across the galaxy watch him, standing there, counting her sins, how she called up the attack, on her own, without the approval of the ruling council of the Qualee, and how that gesture caused everything that's come since.

How he would hold anyone who took up arms against him personally responsible for it.

How this is the first, last, and only warning the Order is going to offer. Strike it and die.

She doesn't say anything, just waits, head high, staring up at him.

It's a fast, clean cut. And he doesn't need to say anything after it. His troops understand. The Qualee understand. The galaxy understands. Anyone who messes with Master Ren… with his people… will die.

The force of the cheering, from before him and across the rest of the galaxy, all 6.1 million voices calling the Order home, calling him Master,almost knocks him over.

Myrton listens to the reports, and stares at his sisters. The three of them shake their heads.

"Well, I suppose we now know what happens if we attack him," Andromeda says.

"Did you hear the rumor, that when she spoke to what was left of the Resistance before disbanding them, that General Organa told them Kylo Ren was her son?"

Since all three of them were together when that rumor surfaced, they certainly remember it.

"You're starting to think that one may be true," Bellie says.

"I didn't see a resemblance when we met, but… The last attack she personally commanded. Ground attack, at least, was at Takodana. The First Order was attacking, and apparently not in force. Her own teams encircled them, shot them up, and then she personally led the attack, on foot, to rescue what she considered her people."

"Echoes of the past," Andromeda says.

The three of them nod.

"Supporting her never hurt us," Bellie adds.

"But it didn't necessarily help, either," Andromeda says.

Myrton taps his fingers together. "He's ruthless in a way she wasn't."

"He can afford to be. She had to take any who offered her friendship. He can be choosy."

"How many recruits do you think he got from that?" Bellie asks.

"If he can hold the planets… Probably twenty-billion," Andromeda replies.

"But he won't… He doesn't hold planets. How many?" Bellie asks again.

Myrton replies, "Not enough of them. Evacuating the cities means he didn't become an instant villain, but he didn't make friends doing that, either. Too many people lost their homes and jobs yesterday. They'll hate him for that. But outside of the Qualeen System…" They share a look. A leader who will come in, personally, to save his men, that's going to start alliances shifting.

"You really think he'll drop those flags in Untrrch?" Andromeda asks.

"He'll take materials and credits, and probably wrangle some sort of agreement, letting his people set up a government friendly to him," Myrton rubs his eyes. "I didn't anticipate K'Rias falling that fast. Or him letting people leave the cities. D'Vrys is already gathering her own coalition, and he'll likely deal with them, offer 'protection' in exchange for more money and materials, and then pull back, letting them run it."

"D'Vrys? What do we know about her?" Andromeda asks.

"She's more amenable in our direction than Amalthea was. Not as good as K'Rias, and if she figures out we were behind K'Rias, she'll be less tractable than Amalthea."

His sisters sigh.

"Then she better not find out," Andromeda says.

Bellie offers a tiny smile. "Not like K'Rias is in any condition to talk, not anymore."

Three bankers watch another few minutes of the holovid, footage from the fight. They see the man in black, flicking away attacks like they barely interest him.

Myrton sighs, hating this, but… "Maybe it is time to see about having a few of our children join the Order."

Andromeda sighs. "Five years in, and then they can run for the senate… We could… put together an impressive campaign."

"We certainly could," Bellie replies.

"And, if he's serious about doing this, he's going to need governors, advisors… diplomats…" Myrton says. "He's begun doing things like state dinners, meeting with people to work out plans. He won't be able to personally handle all of it, not for much longer."

They nod, the inklings of a plan beginning.

There are stories that Kylo Ren, personally, in his blacks, with his red lightsaber, cut a path through an encircling army to free his men. They say though hundreds of men shot at him, none of them hit. Rumor had it, that as he gave the ultimatum that let everyone know that they had seventeen hours to live if they didn't join him, that he stood there, glowing black, if such a thing could be possible. They say he led his people out, offered transport to anyone who would join him, and then blew the entire city and everyone left in it off the map.

Most people think that's ridiculous. When does an Emperor go into battle just to secure the lives of a few hundred peons he's never met? Blew the city off the map… certainly, anyone who's looked at a map of any of the planets in the Qualeen System knows he did that, but risk his own life… That's laughable.

But the ones who don't… And enough of them are the right people, are very carefully re-evaluating any further dealings with Master Ren. They know that if they give him more chances to do things like that, more people, the wrong people, will join him.