Rey rappelled down the cavernous turbine compartment of the aging destroyer, the rope scratching and friction warming her hands despite her homemade gloves. A bag of scavenged parts was tied securely on her utility belt. It had taken hours of searching to come across even this meager reward, but it would be enough to feed her for the day, if Unkar Plutt was feeling generous.
Wind and sand particles whipped past her body as she sped downwards. It was the only time the heat didn't seem oppressive. It was the only time she felt free. Faster she went, trusting the strength of the rope and the litheness of her body. Two hundred meters from the floor, one hundred...sixty...
Suddenly, the rope disappeared from her hands. She was falling. Truly falling. Arms spread, eyes wide, she waited for back-breaking impact—
Rey sat up, heart pounding. The dream—and her fall—was hauntingly real, but she knew it had never happened.
She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and looked over at the by the prison cell door. Another ration cube awaited her, likely dropped off while she was asleep. Without thinking, she shifted onto her hands and knees and crawled toward it.
Rey paused in mid-motion. She had willed her legs to move, and they did. The realization came with a price; she promptly collapsed on her stomach. Rey's heart still thudded wildly against her chest. She shivered, feeling the chill of the steel floor on her legs through the thin fabric of her clothing.
Breathing hard, she bit her lip. This couldn't be. She wasn't supposed to be able to use her legs ever again, let alone have sensation in them. She was nearly resigned to her fate as a wretched invalid until the First Order disposed of her.
What then, of this second chance?
Tentatively, Rey flipped over onto her back and tried to move a toe. She was sore and weak, but her toe responded as it always had. Delighted, she wiggled all her toes from both feet. The how and why questions still pulsed through her mind, but she didn't want to dwell on unknowns. She had to get strong again. She had hope now.
Her muscles were atrophied from disuse, but after several moments, she willed herself into a shaky standing position. Despite having to brace herself with one hand against the wall, it felt odd and wonderful to stand on her feet again. Emboldened, Rey took a step—and landed backwards hard, the wind knocked out of her. She waited a second, listening for a stormtrooper to burst into her cell at the noise. Tense moments passed, but when no one appeared, Rey pushed herself up and tried again, this time with greater success.
Sweat soaked her clothing from her exertions, but it nothing to diminish the ghost of a smile on her face. The First Order had not beaten her yet.
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Even if just for his own amusement, Kylo Ren allowed the conversation between himself and General Hux to play out as exactly as Rey had seen. To have Hux be an unwitting pawn was a pleasant feeling. If the Supreme Leader was not so enamored with the General, Kylo would have ended Hux's miserable existence years ago in the painful way he could contrive. The man showed blind allegiance to his cause. Kylo felt his loyalties were somewhat more flexible. Power was a transient thing, after all.
He stared out at into space. Threads of betrayal tore at his mind. General Hux intended the girl as gift to the Supreme Leader, assuring his position to rule for the foreseeable future. He was ignorant that Kylo had no intention of allowing that to happen. Rey was valuable in a way that Hux, a non-force user, could never respect or understand.
Kylo allowed himself an amused but hidden grin when he noted the sling around Hux's arm. He didn't ask what happened, and the General offered no explanation, but rumors circulated quickly that the girl had done it. Kylo only wished he could have witnessed the moment himself. It would have given him such enjoyment to hear Hux scream in agony.
"Kylo Ren, sir."
He turned slowly, standing eye to eye with the chrome stormtrooper, Captain Phasma.
"Yes, Captain?"
She nodded curtly and presented him with a lightsaber.
"I believe this belongs to you, sir."
He took it without saying anything. She nodded again left him alone. Thankful for the mask, Kylo gripped the handle of his grandfather's lightsaber. So it was not lost after all. It was destiny, that this weapon and rightful owner should be reunited. He had to resist the powerful urge to ignite it, just to bask in the serene azure glow. What would his grandfather say, knowing the weapon was in his possession now? It was the same blade that cut down scores of Jedi, that Anakin had carried when he took his oath to Palpatine, that his Uncle Luke had lost decades later during battle...
"Still prefer that archaic contraption to a good blaster?"
Kylo stiffened at Hux's inane comment. The General had crept up behind him, interrupting his musings. It was unbearably tempting to ignite the lightsaber and bury the blade in the General's chest. With more restraint than he had shown in ages, Kylo stepped past the General and silently exited the bridge. Insults came in many forms, and he knew Hux would recognize his.
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Her limbs ached in the best possible way. Allowing herself to rest, Rey lay on the floor, trying to sort out her emotions. She could not deny the sense of urgency that permeated her thoughts. Something was happening, and she would not survive it if she stayed locked in this room.
It was useless thinking she could trick another stormtrooper; no one had entered her cell since General Hux. There were no panels she could break into and override.
Rey turned onto her side and curled her legs toward her chest. It was damnably cold here.
Her eyes widened.
It was cold.
The vent.
She looked up, her excitement diminishing. It was easily a three meter tall ceiling. Even her dexterous past as a scavenger did not prepare her for such a vault, compounded by the fragility of her body right now. Still, what other option did she have?
Rey took a quick assessment of the barren room. There was nothing to stand on, and nothing to break off to help her reach. She was on her own.
But then again, she was used to that. Gritting her teeth, Rey focused her attention on the ceiling, her hand extended upwards.
Move, she willed the grate.
It did nothing.
She took a deep breath, and tried again. Please, she thought, move. Nothing happened.
Sweat broke out anew on her forehead. She could feel the vibrations in the floor of stormtroopers marching down that hallway a wall away from her. They were preparing for an invasion. If her vision had been true, it was her friends that were at risk.
She was afraid for them. She was angry about the loss of Han Solo, furious about the sadness she saw on Fin's face, and bitter about being trapped, useless and wounded, with the enemy.
Something akin to a growl ripped past her throat, and the vent's grate jolted aside with a loud clank. Rey stared at it in disbelief. It worked, and yet this didn't feel like the other times. She felt raw power surging through her rather than peace.
Holding onto that feeling, she made another shoving motion with her hand, causing the grate to move aside fully. Rey stood on shaky legs directly under the vent. Her body could not make the jump. She would need to channel something more.
My friends will suffer. I hate this place, she thought. I hate the First Order. That power, black and turbulent, flowed through her anew, and she jumped.
Her fingers just caught on the edge. Slowly, Rey pulled herself over into the vent overhead, and collapsed on the base of it. For a long moment she laid there, breathing hard. This space was even colder than her cell, and tight even for her lithe frame. She closed her eyes, trying to replay the layout of the decades old Empire destroyer she picked apart on Jakku. She knew enough of the layout would be the same. She could make it.
Anger might have helped her escape the cell, but calmness would get her though the maze of the destroyer. Rey pushed aside the dark feelings, and focused again on her escape.
She had to crawl through the claustrophobic space on her stomach, her elbows occasionally knocking into side of the panels. She paused, willing herself to be more quiet. Onwards she crawled, shifting direction sometimes by memory, other times by instinct.
Another squadron of stormtroopers passed by underneath her. Rey laid flat and held her breath. She didn't have much time. When she was certain the last footfalls had gone by, she crawled forward and made a sharp left. A grate was before her. Rey peered down it into the dark room below. It took a few seconds for her eyes to focus on the murky objects below, but she grinned. Perfect, a supply room.
Latching her fingers around the metal, she pulled. It made a horrible scratching noise as the heavy metal protested, but after several painstaking tries, she eased it aside and dropped down.
Her landing was anything but graceful. Her back was tender and her legs were weak, but she was no worse for wear when she stiffly rose to her feet. Rey wasted no time feeling for the smooth armored plates and began to strap the pieces on. They were heavier than she expected and cumbersome, but she had no choice. Escape on this vessel alone would be nearly impossible without deception.
The room was quite dark, but her eyes had adjusted. She felt around at the back of the locker for the blaster. Seconds later, her fingers touched the muzzle. She was thankful that the First Order had the foresight to store each stormtrooper armor with a corresponding gun.
She pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing. Quickly shoving the white helmet on, Rey exited and stepped into the hallway. She needed to go the landing bay, where all the other troops were headed.
"Stormtrooper!"
Rey stopped dead, panic seeping through her. Captain Phasma appeared from behind her, tall and menacing. Light refected off the stark chrome armor.
"What is your designation?" the Captain ordered.
Rey quickly glanced down at her wrist, where the numbers were imprinted. "FN-1985."
"Why aren't you with your squadron?"
"My blaster was scorched. I needed a replacement," Rey answered quickly, surprised at how different her voice sounded through the helmet's audio.
The Captain glared at her. "You are moving very slow. I expect you to join your squadron immediately."
"Yes, sir."
Rey couldn't escape quick enough. Feeling the penetrating gaze of the Captain, she prayed that she was making the right directional choices as she navigated the rest of her route. Ahead of her, a group of stormtroopers marched in rows of three. She fell into line with them at the rear and entered the massive hanger.
Tie fighters, landing vessels, and stormtroopers—thousands of them—were amassed in the expansive room. This was no invasion force—this was an army designed for annihilation. Rey stood tall at attention and held her weapon like the others did. General Hux walked out onto a platform above, his fist raised.
"Today, the First Order will destroy the last shreds of the worthless Resistance. Be proud that you have lived to see this day. If you are strong, if you are worthy, you will live to see a greater tomorrow!"
There was a collective affirmative chant that echoed in the room, and then the stormtroopers filed into the ships with precision. Heart pounding, Rey had no choice but to turn and march with her group onto a black ship.
Something is wrong. Rey gripped the blaster tighter and tried to remain inconspicuous. The ship could accommodate several dozen of them, but even so, comfort was not on the minds of First Order, as she realized that she was still expected to stand shoulder to shoulder with the others. She stared straight ahead, willing the pilot to ignite the engines. She was so close to escaping.
And then, in a swirl of heavy black robes, Kylo Ren walked lazily up the ship's ramp, Skywalker's lightsaber hanging from his belt. Rey closed her eyes, and held her breath as he approached.
I am nothing. I feel nothing. I am nothing. I feel nothing.
Rey repeated her mantra until she felt numb. Kylo Ren's helmet turned a minuscule degree in her direction, but his stride did not slow. The ship vibrated underneath them and the ramp closed. Another jolt, and she knew they were airborne.
A/N If you enjoyed this, please let me know. Motivation to write is hard to come by lately. Thanks! Hugs!