11/2/1

Kylo wakes up feeling out of sorts.

Tired, hungry, upside down, alone…

His eyes finally open, and he is alone, which is disappointing, but he sort of remembers… He smiles a little, and sighs. If he'd been willing to actually wake up earlier, he wouldn't have woken alone. And, even now, there's a bowl of soup on the table next to the bed.

He wraps the blanket around him, takes the bowl, and goes to the kitchen, putting the bowl on the table. It's not like their bed is a stranger to occasional drips and splashes of various fluids, but vegetable soup isn't one he wants on his sheets. Plus, he knows a cup of coffee will be the difference between feeling out of sorts and at least vaguely functional.

When he reaches out for the container of beans, getting his morning cup of coffee going, his arm slips from the blankets, and he can see the lack of bruises.

Been practicing your healing?

You're awake!

That's debatable.

Apparently she's got a sense of him and what he's doing. (Standing by the counter looking at the coffee maker.) At least until you've had some coffee.

He smiles at that. I'm upright working on feeding myself. You?

Lessons. Threepio's going over the battle of H'Radnor.

He knows she enjoys the history lessons, and the tactical planning, and political negotiating that Threepio's teaching. So, he's not going to pull her away from that. Though he will ask about it later, learn it second-hand. (Or argue with it. He and Threepio tend to agree about ancient history, which H'Radnor is, but anything from the last sixty or so years, they have drastically different interpretations of.)

Okay. He sits at the table with his cup of coffee and bowl of soup. For a moment, he's just there, enjoying not having to rush. For a moment. Then everything else in the world comes back to him. I'm going to eat and get back to the Supremacy. See what's blown up in the last twelve hours.

Nothing that's making the news.

You're watching?

We are.

Oh… He knows how often they watch the news here, and is feeling a sense of trepidation. If they're all watching it… Probably means things are worse than he was thinking/hoping. Who's we?

Most everyone over the age of fourteen.

Lovely. Time to get on fixing this. As much as it can be. Talk later?

Later.

"You're back!" Kinear sounds exasperated at him, but Kylo can feel that's his own exhaustion creeping through the wall of professionalism he normally keeps drawn around him.

"I am. And you are relieved for at least the next two days, and three is better. Go, rest, eat. See your wife. Talk with her about this, and come back to me with ideas."

Kinear smirks. "You've decided she's the half of us with the brains."

Kylo almost smirks. "I'd never be so crass as to say that out loud."

"Of course not, Master." Kinear turns away from the viewport to look toward the ship. Right now he's just got a view of the wall of Kylo's office, but Kylo understands the gesture. "Can you feel it?"

Kylo nods. He can. The thrum of it through the ship. The devotion. The awe. The willingness to fight and die for him, because he'll fight and die for them. His troops feel valued and important and triumphant right now, and it's buzzing through the ship.

He turns back to Kylo, scowling, genuinely upset. "If it weren't for that, I'd take you over my knee and spank you for that stunt. I don't care you're three times my size, you don't-"

Kylo raises an eyebrow.

Frustration is pouring off of Kinear. "You're of no use to any of us dead."

"I do not appear to be dead."

"This time. We have invested a lot of time, energy, money, and lives in getting you to a place where you can rule this fucking empire. Do notthrow it away!"

"Kinear, If I'm not the man who will rescue them, I'm not worth your time, energy, money, or lives."

Kinear grits his teeth, and Kylo can feel that's why he's frustrated. He knows shows like this are valuable, but he hates having to watch them. Kylo smiles, almost, he can feel that Kinear is starting to genuinely like him as well as what he can do for him. "I know that. It doesn't make it any easier to watch." He nods to the bundle of black under Kylo's arm, and the Padme clothing on his skin. "I take it the armor is good."

"Very."

"Excellent. Perhaps next time you don't have to march in the front line?"

"Again. If I'm not there, I'm not worth the support."

Kinear's eyes narrow. "That's how empires fall, Master Ren."

"And it's how they're born. The Force protects my body. Hopefully you're protecting my holdings." There's enough edge in his voice that Kinear knows to shift the subject, a bit.

"I am. Our lawyers have been working overtime, getting a plan set." He nods to the datapad on Kylo's desk.

"Has D'Vrys seen this?"

"Yes, and she's less than thrilled by it."

Kylo shrugs. "Go. Rest. I'm here, now."

Kinear nods, slumping a bit with tiredness. "I know." His voice is softer as he says, "Don't scare me again like that. I saw that bolt coming right at you and…"

"It stopped, didn't it?"

"Yes, but I didn't know you could do that."

Kylo does smirk this time. "I'm full of interesting surprises."

Kinear rolls his eyes, mutters something about how nice it would be if one of those surprises was not giving old men heart attacks, and then shaking his head, leaves.

Kylo reads through the documents, nodding. They look fine to him. Well, they look good enough to him.

Rested, fed, the Maji token against his throat, back in his command blacks, he's feeling… better. A bit more settled. A little less like he's fucked everything sideways. Maybe fucked it all forwards or something. He smirks at that, but feels that the hopelessness clinging to him yesterday is receding.

At least some.

D'Vrys is not pleased with him.

She's also not being calm or holding her emotions in check.

"This is impossible!" she says, slamming the datapad with his terms down on his desk. "I cannot take this deal to them!"

He shrugs. "You have a ship and free passage. I've left you with fifty-percent of your personal holdings. That's more than enough to start over in luxury in any number of the rim worlds. You don't have to take this deal anywhere."

"You know what I mean," she bites out.

He nods to the chair in front of his desk. "I do. Sit. Would you like a drink or food or something…"

She glares.

He shrugs. "I'm not used to doing this."

"That's abundantly clear." She shakes her head, looking at the pad. "Corporate punishment is archaic. The attacks on your holdings were not sanctioned by our Council of Oligarchs. Holding all of us responsible for the actions of a rogue general is an abomination."

He shrugs again, getting himself a cup of coffee. "I don't disagree." He nods to the cup in his hand, and she shakes her head again.

"Then…" It's clear she's thinking that if he doesn't much want to do this, why is he?

"I also can't get around it. Not this time. I'd prefer to only punish those who have wronged me."

"Say that to the at least 170,000 missing and assumed dead Qualee."

"I told them to get out. I offered them transport."

"You blew up entire cities to—"

"Stop." He puts some command into his voice, and she stops. He puts the cup on his desk. "I did not start this. If you'd left me in peace, everyone would be fine."

"I was going to—"

"I don't care!" He's standing now, leaning against the edge of his desk, towering over here. "You and yours though playing with fire was fun, and you got burned. If it were just up to me, I'd have decapitated your General and been done with that. But it's not just me and her. She attacked my people. And if I don't go hard on her and you, everyone else who doesn't want to deal with the 'inappropriate ideas' my stations are spreading will gently, subtly suggest to someone that it might be in the best interests of their survivors to go on a suicide mission against me."

She slumps, head in hand for a moment, before looking up and saying, "And that's why you're going against the families who had nothing to do with this attack?"

"No. I'm going against them because if I don't, any other bright politician like K'Rias will notice that if they're willing to die for it, they can use me to take their opponents out of the mix. Your General didn't care in the slightest about the people I was draining out of your society, or the ones I was going to put back."

"I know." It's rough and grudging in her voice.

"So, what, you hoped I didn't? Yes, I can read minds, and I could see her imagining her brother ruling the whole damn system now that he's the richest man left in place. I can't let that stand. If I do, they'll use me like a hired gun."

"You've destroyed us."

Kylo scoffs at that. "You've got your people, you've got your mines, and you've got more than 200 cities left. The only thing I am completely dismantling is your armed forces. This is not scorched-earth warfare. Compared to what Snoke would have done to you, this is barely a reprimand."

"Seventeen cities, gone, and the credits you're demanding are not insignificant."

"Neither are the protections I'm offering. You'll be able to rebuild as well as you can, unmolested."

She shakes her head. "Rebuild."

"Rebuild. You may not have the power base you'd like, but you should have more than enough credits left to start construction on new cities and businesses, or to expand your existing cities."

"And you'll be more than happy to offer loans and good prices on materials if we buy them from your colonies."

He smiles, a little. "They aren't my colonies. I don't have colonies. I have people and ships. And I have relationships with newly independent or in the process of becoming independent worlds, who have agreed to exchange goods and credits for the protections I offer." He taps the pad. "I'm taking your credits and holdings. Rights of war. I've won after an unprovoked attack. I get to take. You can take me up on my protection and loans or not as you see fit. But, if you don't take me up on my protections, you'll be economically devastated and naked to anyone who wishes to take you. And I have a feeling anyone else interested in you is going to be significantly less gentle than I am."

That also gets a glare, but she opens the document on her pad, and presses her thumb to it, along with allowing the camera to scan her eye.

"We're taking it. For now."

"It's a five year term. You are in no way required or expected to go along with any longer than that."

"Good."

He spends two hours going through the reports, finding how his troops preformed, how his fleet did in getting into position, how many ships he's lost, (and how many he's gained. The top of the list of things he's taking is every ship left in the Qualeen fleet. Schiff will likely appreciate that.) how many people he's lost. He had a count when he took K'Rias's head, but it's been an additional fourteen hours, and wounded troops die slowly.

Not too many more. That pleases him.

The fact that, compared to the First Order's usual casualty numbers, he got out of this completely unscathed makes him happier.

"C8, send for Jon, please."

"Yes, sir."

He's finishing up a conversation with Vice Admiral Ulan, the person who is in charge of the bit of the galaxy the Qualeen system is in, going over how many ships they want in the Qualeen system (basically, all of the ships he's taking from the Qualee, plus a few hundred more), who is going to run the operation (currently unknown, but there's a short list of five potential 'Governors'), how quickly they can get this in place (not fast enough, but the skeleton can be in place in six weeks), and how many more people he's going to need for this (Fewer than Kylo thought he'd need, and this does work well with his plans to get people off the Supremacy.) when Jon comes to him.

He waits patiently, not sure if he's supposed to be listening to this conversation, but Kylo didn't keep him waiting in the throne room, so… it's probably okay to listen.

Can't properly do diplomatic things if you don't know what we're up to, right? Kylo thinks to him while he's finishing up the conversation with the holo of the Vice-Admiral shimmering above his desk.

Jon nods.

Once Ulan has signed off, Kylo turns his full attention to Jon. "The armor was extremely useful. We had 10% of the casualties of the last serious fight of the First Order. From everything I can see, your work personally saved about eighteen hundred lives."

Jon smiles at that, feeling really good. "A good day of work, then."

"Yes. And with any luck, I should have enough credits left over after this to pay to upgrade the rest of our armor."

"Excellent. And your armor?"

"I'm still here."

Jon just stares at him, and then says, "From what I saw, that would have been true if you'd gone in naked."

"All of my limbs are still attached, I can breathe without assistance, and I'm not swimming in bacta right now, too."

"And that may not have been true." Jon looks Kylo over. Of course, like usual, he's in his command blacks and the only parts of his body visible are above his laryngeal prominence. "What kind of damage did you take?"

"Bruises. A lot of them."

"Should you be in bacta?"

Kylo smiles a little. "I've got something better at home."

Jon smirks, misreading that comment to mean that Kylo got magnificently laid when he got home, and that had distracted him from the bruises. "You should still get looked at."

Kylo gives him an amused look. "That's not exactly what I meant by better. My…" he's not sure what to say here: lady, woman, wife, love… He almost never talks about Rey, because that means talking about his private life, but… Jon knows she exists and… "Rey. Her name is Rey. She's also a Force user." He pulls off his left glove and pushes his sleeve up, not a bruise in sight. "She's good at healing."

Jon nods. "Literally better. Okay. Not that I'd want you hurting if you don't have to, but if you'd left the bruises in place, I could have seen where your armor needs more work."

Kylo inclines his head. That's a very reasonable request. "Next time. And if you want access to the casualty reports…"

"I do. That'll make it easier to see where the weak spots are on the storm trooper's armor."

"I'll see you get it."

"How damaged is your armor?"

"Some rips, tears, dents, and burns, one of the shin plates may be cracked, it was making a sort of clicking sound when we took it off, but it kept me in one piece, so it did everything I needed it to do."

"Good." Jon looks to Kylo's room. "May I get it?"

Kylo remembers how Jon was more than a little squeamish about being stuck in a room with body parts, and his armor isn't exactly clean or gore-free.

"Maybe let the laundry service have it first. It's not in pretty condition, and smells worse."

Jon appears to think that's a relevant consideration and nods his head. "Okay, and I'll make sure we get on a second suit for you. If something came up today, I wouldn't want you waiting for repairs."

"Thank you. How is the hunt for a design specialist as a replacement going?"

Jon rolls his eyes a little. "There are three very promising designers in your training corps now. I can get the first of them working for me in the next month."

"But…"

"But promising design work doesn't mean promising logistical work, or cost/benefits work, or sourcing goods work, or the ability to get a mass production line into the works." There is a reason, beyond being the highest ranking designer to survive the Holdo attack, that Jon is in charge of Tactical Design, and that's the fact that he's not just a designer, but also the man who knows how to put a production line into place. He's got designers right now, finding one who can take those images and make them real for a force of more than five million people is another story all together.

"Ah. So the hunt continues?"

"The hunt continues, though… Have you been out of your rooms?"

Kylo shakes his head. "No, why?"

"Even I can feel it out there. It's… The Supremacy has never felt this way. I have a feeling this is going to work wonders for your recruiting. The Qualee who got calls from their family, telling them to evac, are thinking that joining someone who does things like that, who values not just his people, but their people as well, may be worth offering allegiance, as well."

Kylo smiles at that. "Good."

"And as those images spread across the galaxy… We may not offer the best pay, but I'm sure there's a decent-sized population of mercenaries or guns for hire who would appreciate knowing that when push comes to shove, someone will push back, hard, for them."

That pleases Kylo, too. He may not be in need of too many mercenaries, he's got more ground troops than he knows what to do with, but he's sure that if Jon's right about that, there'll also be pilots who'll appreciate having someone watching their back. Likely mechanics and logistical specialists and, who knows, maybe a diplomat or two. He's nodding as he pushes a copy of the Qualee treaty to Jon. "Diplomacy 101. Here are our terms. Read. Think. Tell me what you think about them."

"Okay." For a moment, Jon is holding the pad, but not really reading it. "I do have one thought. Not exactly related to this, but…"

Kylo nods at him.

"We're at almost a year of the Order, and… especially coming off a victory, now might be a good time to have some sort of celebration. The last time I checked, we've doubled our numbers since this time last year. It'll probably be even more before we get to the New Year. You've gone a year now, formally in charge, without doing anything… off-putting," Kylo thinks that's a polite way to say he hasn't murdered any bankers recently. "so it's likely more people would be willing to come to this than did last year. And… I have a feeling, that some sort of formal, 'welcome new citizens' thing would be of value, too." He taps the pad. "And if you wanted to expand on what you said a year ago, go more into what The Order is and does, this would be the time for it."

All of that sounds reasonable. "Can you set it up in seven weeks?"

"Theoretically, as an officer, at my rank, I'm supposed to be able to plan and execute a full planetary invasion in a month. I should be able to handle an anniversary party, even a big one, in almost two months."

"Then give me a party."

"Yes, sir!"

"You look like you're feeling better," Rey says as Kylo comes through to their kitchen, with, fortunately, supper in hand.

She's already sitting at their table, looking flat and limp. "And you look exhausted."

"One of us didn't get an eight hour nap earlier today."

He gently strokes the nape of her neck, kissing the top of her head, and putting the plate and bowl on the table. "Hungry?"

"Yes," she inhales, deeply, hoping to figure out, by smell, what's in front of her. "Okay, I've got no idea what this is."

Kylo grabs spoons, forks, and knives for them. He sees she's already got glasses of water waiting for them. "I know what it's called, but that wasn't helpful."

"What's it called?"

"The stew is a goulash, and the little things on the plate are pirogi." He sets the utensils down, and then sits next to her. She lays her head on his shoulder for a moment, before grabbing a spoon, and taking a taste of the stew.

"Good?" he asks, cutting a pirogi in half with his fork. Apparently, it's some sort of dumpling.

Rey thinks about it. "I'm not sure I'd want it regularly, but it's okay for once and a while." She nods to the pirogi, and he takes a bite.

"Soft, kind of bland, some sort of cheese in there."

She spears one of them, snarfing it down. Today's a good day for sort of bland and cheesy.

They don't talk as they eat. She's tired, doesn't have much going on in her mind, and he's fairly awake right now, but is fine with just being near her. He doesn't have to let all the ideas out of his head right now. There'll be tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after, or…

He kisses her again.

She flashes him a little curious look. She's been far enough in her own head his thoughts weren't bouncing around in there.

"Time. You and I have time."

She gives him a little smile at that.

Time means the next morning.

It means both of them comfortably warm in the cave of blankets on their bed.

It means after slow gentle rocking has gone fast and erratic, punctuated with harsh breath and gasped words, and eased out again into a soft glow.

It means once their bodies relaxed, cuddled together, catching the slow brightening of the day.

Her head is on his chest, her fingers gently stroking just below his nipple, as she says, "Why did you want me to watch you take K'Rias's head? Why up on the platform with you?"

He's lightly stroking her hair. He doesn't answer, not with his voice, but she can see that her there, by his side in a fight, her armor light, her staff with it's red-haloed blue, watching his back as he watches hers… That's all part of his image of Lord and Lady Ren. Maybe not anything that was in his vision, but it's part of his feel for how it's supposed to work.

He gently squeezes her hand and raises his head to kiss the top of hers.

When he does speak, he says, "I don't want you to have any illusions about what I'm doing."

"I don't."

"Good." He's quiet, mostly feeling her skin against his, her hair between his fingers. Mostly. "Do you ever want me here? Have some sort of vision of Master Kylo?"

"Often."

"What would I do?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I have a very clear image of you teaching them how to write or use a lightsaber, or spending some real time with Critt. Jacen has a bit of a crush on you; he'd likely follow you around like a smartass puppy."

"I probably don't need to be encouraging that."

"Not that sort of crush. He looks up to you."

He smiles a little at that.

"The other Order kids would, too, if they knew it was you."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, and then replies with, "It's not for my sake they don't know who Padme is."

"I know." She makes a small sound, halfway between a laugh and a snort. "Finn and Rose just about choked when Poe told them that you hadn't done anything wrong with that attack."

"Your pilot said that?"

"Apparently, Admiral Dameron, the former second-in-command of the Resistance, is at least vaguely aware of the rules of war."

"And honest enough to apply them to me. I'm touched." The hand stroking her hair goes still. "I take it the Ticos and Kennas were less honest?"

"I don't think honest is part of it. Their histories with the First Order and," her lips rub together, she's never said it before, but… It's him, all of it is him. "The Jedi Killer, make it harder to be impartial."

Kylo nods, exhaling a long sigh. "Twenty-two. The Knights and I killed twenty-two would-be Jedi. Did we… find the Kennas?"

"If you did, they aren't talking about it, and they've got the memory buried so deep I can't sense it. But they were scared enough to be constantly on the move, uprooting if anyone saw Critt do anything to give away his Force powers."

"Wise parents. Snoke's spies paid well for information about Force sensitives." He thinks about their conversation about giving her time. It's been… fourteen months maybe. Something like that. He knows it was before he created the Order. Poe's apparently coming around, because, other than that one interrogation session where, really, compared to what he could have done, he didn't go that hard on Poe, and he knows that Poe knows that, he's never, personally, done anything to him. The Ticos and Kennas though… "How long would it take you to forgive the person who murdered me?"

She blinks. "Kylo?"

"No good reason. Just evil and spite, tore your world to shreds, ripped your home and heart apart. How long?"

"Kylo." She props herself up on her elbows looking at him, dismay on her face.

"Anyone who is capable of being reasonable about this, already is. Anyone who can forgive, has. And all the time in the world won't help for the ones who can't."

"I don't believe that."

He sighs at that, stroking her cheek. Light-sider. "I know. Your light won't let you. Given enough time all hates cool. You believe that. I can feel it."

"And perhaps you see them never coming around because of your dark."

"Perhaps."

She kisses his chest. "Jacen's going to tell Critt. I don't know when, but he is. Critt's terrified you're coming to kill us all, and sure Padme's getting the Order kids out to save them from Ren."

Kylo sighs. "Are you going to stop him?"

"No. I'm… not brave enough to tell the ones you've wounded, but the people who would also love you… I… like them knowing."

He strokes her back, not minding if more of the kids know who he is.

"The Ticos, Poe, and the Kennas think Padme is actually… General Mitaka?" She's not sure if she's got the rank and name right. "And they're arguing about if you're going to leave the Order or not, now."

Kylo actually laughs at that. "Captain. He's Captain Mitaka, and he'd be utterly horrified by that."

"I take it you don't get on?"

"I choked him in a fit of pique. Possibly more than once."

She winces a bit at that. "Back in the Snoke days?"

"Yes. I made it up to him. I gave him Hux's ship. He's doing well with the Finalizer. Why do they think Mitaka is Padme? And why would he be leaving?"

"After… Finn and Rose saw you. All they could remember was dark hair and light skin. Apparently, the only people with enough of a private life to have a place where I could go every day are people who have their own ships. Command blacks. No armor. Been part of the First Order long enough. Young enough to have been one of Luke's Jedi trainees. They never had anyone on the Supremacy, so obviously no one on that ship." Kylo smirks a little at that, though, really, he wasn't actually stationed on the Supremacy until after he took out Snoke. "They did have someone on the Finalizer; you weren't the only person who thought keeping a close eye on Hux was a good plan. And he had to be someone I could have run into at some point, so…"

"I've heard worse theories. And why is Mitaka staying with the Order?"

"He's Maji, formerly Jedi, survived your attack on Luke's Jedi school, and apparently going to take down the Jedi Killer."

"Looking for round two, then?"

She nods.

He rolls his eyes. "So, I'm on the Finalizer, rescuing Maji from the Jedi Killer, and plotting an assassination attempt against myself?"

She nods, again.

"Who was saying I should have left?"

"The Kennas."

"Yeah, well, they're right. If that was approaching true, I should leave. I've got nine centimeters and twenty kilos on Mitaka. Unless he's a wizard with a light saber, which he wouldn't be, because he didn't get to actually train with one, what with working his way up the ranks in the First Order, he can't take me in battle."

She snuggles in closer to him, feeling like they've gone from what might have been a useful conversation into utterly ridiculous. "It's getting late."

He pulls his comm to hand, and checks the chronometer on it. "Yeah." He rubs his hand over his face. He's got to shave this morning. Rey's laser device has made that less necessary, but he still has to do it once or twice a week. He sits up, wincing a little as the cool air of their room goes galloping under the blankets. "Better insulation in here."

The cottage has a heater/cooler, but it's really only set to add or subtract about ten degrees from the ambient temperature. "Probably," she says, sighing. "None of these little cottages are meant for real cold."

They get out of bed, and he wraps his arms around her, and the top blanket around them, and they head for the refresher. Once the water is on, and the air is turning warm and moist, he says, "Did I tell you Jon's thinking of having a first year party for the Order?"

"No…"

"Coming soon. More fancy dinners with powerful people."

"Your favorite way to spend an evening," she says, a bite of sarcasm in her tone.

"Oh yeah." He drops the blanket, and they both step, quickly, into the shower. The hot water feels great. "I was thinking though, between paying for more insulation, and probably a few days where all I'll want to do grit my teeth and be somewhere else, maybe we could use a few days, where we go somewhere with an actual casino, and put Poe's theory of Maji gambling to the test."

"Are you suggesting another vacation?" she asks with a smile, reaching for the shampoo.

"Yes. I am. That, or a very pleasant business trip. However you'd like to think of it."

"I think if I come back with enough credits to buy insulation for all of the cottages, and better heaters, that that's an awfully good use of a few days."

He strokes her face, looking into her eyes. "Especially, if between those games, we get some time with just each other?"

She grins up at him. "Especially."