… on a starlit night in a galaxy far, far away…
"You know you'll make a great mom one day," I told Freya. "That was the most perfect listen-here-young-lady expression I've ever seen."
She gave me an answer in a form of a glare. And grandma was laughing again, of course.
"Can you please tell her that I refuse to take her along on a mission, whether or not she knows how to handle herself in a fight?" said Freya to gran in that juvenile I'm-not-talking-to-you-but-I-want-you-to-know way. "It's not her combat training that is the issue here. It's that she doesn't seem to know how enemies work."
"Have you ever had an enemy? Don't give me that look, I'm being serious. Have you ever – ever – hated anyone so much that you got over that basic, primal must-kill-now reaction…? Have you ever found yourself thinking about the whole thing clinically, forgetting what is it that you most want to do and focusing instead on the worst possible fate for him…? That's how enemies work. That's how revenge works. You forget what you most want to do and do what needs doing to make sure he spends the rest of his life in hell. The perfect, custom made hell… Oh what? Did that sound evil?"
"Yes," answered Freya, not even bothering to soften the blow.
"Which is why you'll need her around if you actually ever get around to going after the First Order high ranks," said grandma before I could point it out myself. "Oh yes, she sounds like a sociopath when she's describing what she's going to do once we have him in custody – but in the heat of the battle she'll be the calmest person around. And there will be nothing she won't do to fulfill the mission."
"See," I said, just a little petulantly. "Grandma gets it."
"You don't get to live to be eighty in this galaxy without picking up an enemy or two," she smiled in reply.
"You know what? I think I'm good. I don't need to understand what it's like to have enemies. Not on personal level where things get all weird and emotionally exhausting. I'm doing just fine with a big, faceless organization trying to turn the galaxy into this totalitarian nightmare…" said Freya shaking her head. "Let's… change the subject."
"Can we even do that?" I grinned. "I mean this is the resistance. Isn't the war the only thing there is to discuss…? How we're going to win the war and what we're going to do after the war and how we're pretty sure it's the fault of the force that we even have to have these huge ideological battles all the time…?"
"Stop complaining about that, will you? It's that kind of a galaxy. If we didn't fight over the force we'd just find something else to fight over," said Freya. "And don't even think about going as a former…"
"As a former prisoner of war," I said, just to hear her groan, "I can complain about whatever the hell I want."
We fell back into contented silence after that. I liked the sound of it so much I actually kept my mouth shut for minutes on end. In the end it was grandma that ended it. "So just out of curiosity… what are your plans after the war…?"
"Are you asking me just because I can never go home again?" I smiled, though this really shouldn't be funny. "You know, because the First Order burned my house down?"
"Oh you know exactly what she's planning. She'll start a support group for former Stormtroopers and she'll be so sarcastic about it you won't even notice it's actually an incredibly altruistic thing to do," said Freya, eyes fixed at the night sky. She sure knew me well for someone who spent so much time complaining about how little sense I was making.
"That's… definitely on the list," I confirmed. "You know, one day. Though we really shouldn't be discussing any after the war scenarios. We'll jinx it."
I was laughing even as I heard myself say it, and they joined as I knew they would. That was one way to fight it. Keeping our sense of humor. The one thing we knew the opposition was missing.
"Oh we're winning this war alright," said Freya when she got her breath back. "Just look at us. We're unstoppable. We're led by Leia freaking Organa. We have some awesome pilots on our team – and yes, when I say that I do mean me. We already have one renegade Stormtrooper, so it's only a matter of time before others follow. And our scariest people are way scarier than their scariest people…"
"You say the sweetest things," I said, though she didn't seem to mean that last comment as a compliment. Too late. I was taking it as one anyway. "You think I'm scary now? Give me a few weeks to build up some muscle and learn how not to trip over myself in a battle."
"I don't think that'll change a thing. That's not the kind of scary you are."
Well, she wasn't wrong about that. I was a weapon of psychological warfare, pure and simple – high time to acknowledge it, since I've been used that way several times. By my enemies. So I was making sure that next time I'd be using my destructive powers it will be for the good of the galaxy. Though I'd rather be doing that while armed, just in case.
"Do you think we'll get medals? I mean… knowing that a smuggler has one kind of takes some of the prestige away, but still…"
Freya was laughing before I got too far with that and it took her a while to actually articulate that it was the idea of seeing me being serious for the few minutes the ceremony would take she found so amusing. "Plus you can't be wearing your frak you too shirt while getting a medal. Or your first order jacket. I mean you seriously need to stop wearing that thing anyway, it's weirding everyone out. And don't say…"
"I'm wearing it ironically," I said. Again. Somehow I didn't think I sold her on it.
"Yeah. We're definitely the kind of people who should have medals," grinned Freya. And off we were, laughing again. There was just something about that whole mental image that made it very hard not to.
"So how is the combat training going anyway," asked me Freya after a moment. "Regretting it yet?"
"Of course I am. It was a terrible idea. I hurt everywhere and I discovered I have all these muscles I didn't even know I had – apparently haven't used them in years. It's not fun."
"But you're still doing it."
"Obviously," I said in my best don't-even-think-about-trying-to-stop-me tone.
"Do I even want to know why?"
"Element of surprise," I replied. "Me turning into a badass is the last thing they'll ever expect so that's exactly what I'm going to do. I know, I know, I'm plenty badass already. Maybe the word I'm looking for is warmachine…"
"Well in that case you really better have the force on your side. Because I don't see how you expect to turn this," she said with a gesture encompassing my figure, "into approximation of battle-ready."
"That's not how the force works," said grandma before Freya could get too far with that train of thought. And next thing I knew I was laughing so hard I completely forgot I should be offended by Freya's last comment.
I was actually doing really good, if I said so myself. All the confused looking rebels who clearly didn't see this character development coming I passed by on my morning runs made the subsequent aching muscles almost worth it. And then there was the end-game to focus on. I had to do this because there was only one thing more important than me surviving this war…
"And she's looking evil again," said Freya glancing at me. "You know how eerie this is getting for those of us who have to look at you? I can always tell when you're thinking about him. It's like having force-powers. Except creepier."
"There's nothing creepier than having force-powers," I said dismissively.
"And now you're thinking about Ben. And I can tell. And I shouldn't be able to."
"Have you ever considered that maybe…" I stopped talking. Grandma just cleared her throat in that meaningful way that told us that if we won't cut it off she'll be forced to say it again. And I wasn't sure I could take it if she did.
"Right," said Freya, rolling her eyes. "That's not how the force works…"
"Oh, the force… It's probably all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense," I said with a yawn. It was almost nearing dawn after all. "What…?"
"You had a Sith digging through your head…!"
"Oh yeah. Completely forgot about that," I grinned at her exasperation. "What? It was really long ago and it is the kind of thing you try to suppress just so you can go on pretending you live in a sane galaxy."
"Except we don't."
"Right," I said. She did have a point.
I looked up at the stars again, enjoying the last few moments I had before they would start fading and I would be left with another very long day to spend trying to convince myself that my muscles don't hurt that much and I can do this and all the other outright lies I needed to believe so much right now.
"And she's thinking about Hux again," said Freya before grandma could shush her.
"Well of course she is. Haven't you been paying attention?"