... long time ago, in the clutches of the First Order...
"I mean I'm not claiming to be a specialist, but come on – even I could tell that did not go as planned. I clearly broke your guy. So what's next? Are you sending me home yet or are we going to go on with this charade and get me measured for a uniform next…?"
The shiny Stormtrooper didn't reply. I glared at her, trying to guess what expression she hid under that distinctive helmet. "Do you have a name or do I just call you shiny. Because I think we both know which one I'd prefer."
"It's captain Phasma. Now shut up."
"Aye aye, captain," I grinned. So much for my suicidal tendencies taking the backseat in this thoroughly weird situation. It might have taken me a while but now I was clearly back to my usual someone-put-me-out-of-my-misery self.
Yeah, I didn't see the First Order tolerating it for very long. I probably had only hours to live.
"Do you smell that?" I said, sniffing the air. I could have sworn I smelled melted plastic. That couldn't be good. "Where is that coming from…?"
"What are you talking about?" said the captain in a tone that was perilously close to turning angry. Something was telling me I wouldn't like her when she was angry. Still, life-long instinct to run towards what clearly smelled of a mechanical meltdown waiting to happen couldn't be suppressed…
I was out of my chair and slipping by her before she could react. Advantage of being a normal sized person – I found it ridiculously easy to slip under her arm and escape into the corridor where I proceeded to follow my nose. There was something melting somewhere and though I felt quite relaxed at the thought of my premature death I simply refused to die because these people were too busy playing soldiers to make sure their machinery wasn't turning into lava.
"Right. Who did this…?" I said, frowning at the mess I found in a room just at the end of the corridor. "Was it the discount Vader…?"
Phasma, catching up with me just as I stopped in the doorway made a sound that was reminiscent of drawing of a breath in surprise. If she didn't give off the nothing-can-surprise-me vibe I would have thought she never heard anyone using that kind of terminology when speaking of the Sith. "Are you going to shoot me? Because you can still do that when I'm done dealing with this mess," I said glancing at her half-raised weapon. One she clearly meant to aim at me before I made that tactless remark about the First Order's pet space wizard.
"So what do we have here?" I asked one of the service droids, deciding it was safe to ignore her for now.
The droid replied in a series of decidedly panicky beeps. I sighed and bent down to examine the computer terminal that was basically melting before my eyes. "Did you cut it off? Alright, alright – I had to ask. Now here's what I need you to get me…"
... some time later...
I looked over my shoulder fighting the desire to yell out some instructions about how badly whoever was making all that noise needed to shut up. I had bad enough time focusing at the work at hand with the incredible heat emanating from the melting parts of the dying machine. Because this thing was clearly finished. There was no point even contemplating fixing it – I was barely able to contain the damage.
I spent over fifteen minutes now just trying to prevent this thing from melting its way through the floor and dropping onto the floor below us. That's how bad this was. I was officially ready to stop dismissing lightsabers as silly relics of hopefully soon to be extinct sect – those things were dangerous. I mean they could do this to solid metal and hardened plastic. I didn't want to imagine what they did to things that were of the soft and squishy variety. Though… they probably cauterized the wounds…
"Is it really?" I asked the droid as he beeped at me something about the temperature finally going down.
I took a moment to look over my shoulder again. Whoever was discussing the chain of command outside this room seemed to be finally shutting up. Not before one last furious "She's trouble," which made me pretty sure who the subject of the conversation was.
"Yeah right. You have a guy who can do this because he's having a bad day running around twenty-four-seven and I'm trouble," I mumbled to myself, brushing a forearm against my damp forehead. "I mean Darth Something must be a safety violation incarnated."
The droid gave a soft beep in agreement and I chuckled to myself.
... later...
So I was working for the First Order now, apparently.
No one actually bothered to say so in so many words, but the uniform I was given was a pretty clear indication I was in this with them whether I liked it or not. Other than that though, everyone seemed to be polite, even quietly apologetic about the whole thing. Also confused. Really, really confused. That made me pretty sure this was not how the hiring process normally went.
I mean of course there was a historical precedent or two of an Evil Empire setting its heart on a specific scientist and making him cooperative through threats to his family members. Now I might have impressed them with the way I simply went about my work, even as the very act threaten to melt my face off if I wasn't careful – but I still wasn't that kind of an asset.
Truth was I was just an engineer. Nothing special. The only thing that set me apart from every other person of the same skill set they already had brainwashed and working for them was that when I worked I didn't give a damn. I didn't even have to think twice about rolling up my sleeves and tackling a problem others would have refused for some silly reason such as self-preservation. As far as I knew I was the only properly suicidal, I-don't-give-a-damn-it's-melting-my-face-I'm-fixing-this engineer aboard. The kind of person you don't know you need until something threatens to blow up. And so they were keeping me, my attitude and all.
I had no more say in it than I had access to sweets. Well, at least they didn't try to feed me any propaganda. Yet. But that was just me trying to see the bright side – which really wasn't something I was any good at.
I looked myself over in a reflective surface on the wall of the interrogation room I was to stay in until they could come up with somewhere more permanent to place me.
Even in my uniform I looked like a rebel doing a terrible job of impersonating a First Order officer. It was the hair mostly – the mess of curls that refused to behave even on the best of days, and now was even more tangled than usually. I ran my hands through it, not to smooth it but to make it even messier. I liked the clearly-against-the-regulations look it produced, especially as I unbuttoned the top of my jacket. By necessity, really, since it didn't exactly accommodate my actual proportions, making me wonder just how flat-chested was the ideal First Order officer supposed to be.
"Oh, this place is gonna be fun," I said to my so-not-amused looking reflection. I've spent a total of ten minutes in solitary confinement and here I was, already talking to myself.
I tapped the glass softly, wondering if there was someone on the other side. I was really tempted to whisper I have a bad feeling about this or something in that vein just to freak them out.
But that wouldn't do much for me in a way of distraction. The truth was what I really needed was something to fix – and soon. The sooner the not-exactly-emotionally-stable Sith got some bad news the sooner I'd get to do the thing that could at least momentarily make me forget my circumstances – this utterly unforeseen twist in the story that was my life.
A First Order lackey. My family would be so damn proud of me.
Actually… since they didn't disown me even as I inflicted my personality on them pretty much since I learned to talk this might not be a deal breaker either. Anyway – they were the last thing I needed to be thinking of right now. Things were bleak enough as it was, without that particular problem for me to depress over. Especially since I felt pretty damn certain they'll take one look at the burnt down ruin my house must have turned into by now and come to the logical conclusion that I've been held captive, being coerced and needed saving.
They were probably looking for Resistance forces to signed up with even as I sat here feeling sorry for myself. "Oh at least when you screw up, you screw up big," I told my suddenly crestfallen reflection. "You should have family disappointment under occupation. I mean… No one's ever going to trump this."
I stopped, chuckling to myself. If there really was a person on the other side of the mirror I might have just succeeded in seriously freaking him out.
I wondered if he maybe had the same kind of complicated family situation I did… But then that was pretty much the case with everyone in this galaxy. Beginning with the troublemakers that were the Skywalkers, all the way down to the mere extras like myself.