Tales From the Finalizer
By: Lena (Airelle Vilka)
TALE THREE: Parallels
In which a typical day on the Finalizer becomes anything but.
Part I of II
0500 hours. Quarters of General Emmeline Hux.
Hux eyed her uniform critically, turning it sideways on its hanger. She had de-wrinkled it the night before, eschewing the assistance of droids for this particular task. They never got it right, anyway.
Suitable for the day.
Her chronometer beeped three times, and she looked longingly at a little machine on her shelf. Normally, it would already be on, happily brewing her morning beverage; but today, she had an early meeting, and needed to get her run in before that.
She reached down, stretching as she checked the laces on her shoes, willing her mind to shut out any thoughts, and failing. Already, her brain was sorting through her schedule, rearranging a particularly annoying lieutenant to later in the day. He had issues with the condition of the training rooms, and Hux had received extremely detailed but mind-numbing notes on the topic from him for the last three weeks. She recalled that he had a particularly nasal voice, and wondered if she could reschedule him.
"Selvan," she spoke into her comlink, knowing her assistant was still in bed. Hux didn't consider herself malicious, but she did get a perverse sort of pleasure from being awake and working before anyone else. Showing up on the bridge before shift change unnerved the techs and kept them on their toes, she'd found.
After a moment, the voice of a man who was trying to wake up very quickly in a short time came through. "Good morning, General."
"Is it?" she grimaced, walking to her door and swinging her arms and legs in final preparation for her run. "If you put off the meeting with Andwel, it will be. I can't deal with him and Ren on the same day."
Selvan's voice was even, but she'd known him long enough to sense amusement. "I'll tell him you're unavailable today. Anything else?"
"Actually," Hux said, "check the progress on the pilot from Jakku."
There was a pause. "They've been working on him all night, General. I'm sure they're close to retrieving the necessary information."
"Make sure they don't kill him," she warned, exiting her quarters and heading toward the elevator. "Periods of rest between interrogations. It wears the subject down, gives him time to consider the futility of his situation."
"Understood, General."
Silencing the comlink, Hux took a deep breath, swallowing to clear her ears as they adjusted to the rapid descent of the elevator. This pilot was a minor distraction and meant little to the advance of the First Order's plans, but he was important to Kylo Ren, and so she needed to worry about him.
She sighed. Not even awake for an hour, and already the infuriating man was in her thoughts. It didn't help that the viewport from her quarters faced the bridge, and she often saw him there at night, pacing like a caged animal. Sometimes, he'd stop and look directly out, and she swore he could see her, even from that distance and through one-way transparisteel.
The lamps on every level alternated with shadow as she descended further, slicing her face in darkness and light at dizzying speed. She leaned against the transparent wall, watching the ship loom above her, and felt a surge of pride at being part of this massive beast, the head and heart of power and order. She had known, from the moment she set foot on the Finalizer, that she was home. And after ten years, she was intimately familiar with every instrument, every room, every noise; the vessel's lifeblood pumped through her, and she was as much a part of it as the elevator she rode.
Finally, she reached one of the bottom floors that housed the training areas. The vast space was separated into private rooms for officers and communal ones for soldiers, as well as the large facilities for official drills and combat training. One of these housed a massive pool, and above it a circular catwalk that was her destination.
"General," a cadre of troopers saluted as one, recognizing her immediately despite her outfit. Hux nodded and passed them, her mind in single focus toward her morning routine. Her unpredictable hours required endurance of mind and body, and she'd long ago learned that she was no Phasma, meant for bulk and strength. Instead, running gave her clarity of thought along with a dogged tenacity that was her trademark in all things.
Reaching the catwalk in a light jog, she steeled herself and began in earnest, trying to shut out thoughts of Ren and the pilot from her mind.
0500 hours. Quarters of Commander-Inquisitor Kylo Ren.
He was having nightmares again.
His eyes opened in the darkness, staring at the industrial ceiling. The room was palpably cold, though whether from a glitch in the temperature controls or from his own power, Ren did not know.
Groaning, he swung his legs over the bed, hands involuntarily raking his thick hair, head cradled in his palms. The proximity to his goal must have contributed to the dreams. The map to Luke Skywalker was nearby, so close. Soon, he would finally complete his grandfather's mission, and would wipe the last of the Jedi from the galaxy.
I'm coming for you, Uncle, he thought savagely, rising and reaching for his clothes. With every layer of the dark material, he was enveloped further, the power seeping into him, imbuing him with comforting warmth. By the time the hood rose over his mask, the man was gone and only the Knight remained. Just as it should be.
His mind reached out to his master, but the connection was empty. Snoke did not wish to be disturbed, clearly.
Ren checked the chronometer on the wall. They would have been questioning the Resistance pilot for the last four hours. He made the assumption they hadn't gotten the information they wanted; he'd given strict orders to be told immediately once they had something.
He scowled. He'd go up there himself, and tear through the impudent man's mind like a wampa through a Tauntaun's belly. Oh, he would regret giving Ren lip on Jakku the previous night. Ren smirked as he imagined the insolence wiped from the prisoner's face when his memories were thoroughly violated.
But first, meditation. For the interrogation to be effective, he needed to clear his head of the dreams. His mother had once again made a prominent appearance, begging him to return home. She had been showing up more recently, and he wondered if she was thinking about him.
I don't care, he told himself, stomping out the door toward the elevator. She means nothing to me. That life was over long ago.
Patrolling soldiers careened out of his way, sensing his irritation and not wanting to bear the brunt of his fury. All too well; he was certain Hux would not appreciate the killing of stormtroopers this early in the morning.
He stalked impatiently in front of the elevator, hitting the button several times. Not even awake an hour, and already the damn woman was on his mind. She was probably in a meeting, with her perfect uniform and hair, looking down her nose at her underlings. He could picture the look of disgust on her expressive face as she was faced with yet more incompetence, and his mood brightened at the thought of her exasperation.
Reaching his destination, he positioned himself cross-legged in the shadows under the catwalk, ignoring the few soldiers who had noticed him and quickly retreated. The facility was always noisy, exactly what he needed to meditate. Snoke had taught him that chaos, not silence, provided the best counterpoint to Farseeing, and he allowed the shouts of the instructors and the splashing of pool water to penetrate his mind, focusing on each sound before consciously carving a path past it, reaching out past the Finalizer and into the darkness of space. As he left his body and the ship behind, Ren noted that the dreams still lingered, and moved further, past Jakku and into the depth of the Outer Rim. Only there did he find himself alone, without sound or breath, completely free as his master had instructed.
Then, entrenched deep within the web of the Force, he grasped the delicate strands and began to search.
0530 hours. Stormtrooper training facility, Level 41B.
FN-2187 coughed up water, kicking his legs to keep himself afloat. This was his fourth pass through the pool, and his arms were exhausted. His mind, however, remained brutally aware of the events in the village on Jakku. He'd gone to reconditioning, but it had not helped. He could still smell the sharp tang of blood, see the smoke, hear the screams. He'd been raised to do this. But he knew, after last night, that he couldn't.
Treading water, he moved himself off to the side to stay away from his comrades as they raced down the partitioned tracks in the pool. That Resistance fighter they'd captured. What was his name?
He couldn't remember. It didn't matter, as the man was probably dead now. Certainly was, if Kylo Ren had gotten to him.
A shiver passed through his body as he remembered the dark figure, the scarred mask glinting in the flames. How easily Ren had stopped the Resistance fighter's blaster bolt. The terrifying, jagged lightsaber arcing through the air and cutting down the old man who'd dared to challenge him. The ease with which he'd ordered the troopers to kill the villagers for their resistance.
The moment he had looked at him. Despite the helmets, FN-2187 knew Ren had been staring straight into his soul. Why he hadn't killed him on the spot was a miracle; one that would surely not be repeated.
His stomach turned, nausea threatening again to overcome him as it had done on Jakku. He should not be even thinking about this. He should go to reconditioning again, where his world would once again be understandable, normal.
And yet, against his better judgment, he continued to think, chewing his lip in contemplation, wondering again about the prisoner. He could find out if they'd killed him. It would be easy enough; he had access to the detention center. And then...
And then what?
His fingertips began to tingle as a very traitorous thought took hold. The prisoner had been about to leave Jakku in a ship when it was incapacitated. Which meant he could fly.
He could fly.
So if he was alive, and somehow escaped...
FN-2187's heart leaped, and he looked around, almost afraid that someone had heard his thoughts. He'd heard rumors about Kylo Ren's abilities, and expected him to come roaring from above, taking his head off in one clean strike. But nothing happened, and he looked up at the catwalk above the pool, his mind already forming a plan, an insane plan that could just work, and get him out of here forever.
It was then that he saw her.
General Hux had paused just above him, leaning on the railing to catch her breath. She wore gray leggings under a simple tunic that bore no rank, but even from here, FN-2187 knew who she was. He had seen her often enough on the holovids. Even winded and sweating, she managed to exude poise as she surveyed the vast expanse of the room. This facility was one of the biggest on the ship, and he supposed she needed the space to run. Still, he didn't expect her presence here, among those who were clearly beneath her notice.
Abruptly, she looked down at the pool, and met his eyes. The difference in height and his unclothed state made his face burn, and he lowered himself into the water; but despite his discomfort, he could not look away.
Set in her angular, feminine face, framed by red hair, her eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen. They were daggers, their intensity burning the air away, spearing him in place like a prey animal. Her gaze unraveled his mind, as if searching for anything other than what she expected to see, tearing out everything that didn't suit her goals. Suddenly, he wanted to confess everything to her, every disloyal thought, to throw himself on the floor and beg for mercy.
And just like that, FN-2187 understood how someone barely in her thirties, a pale wraith of a woman whom he could crush with one punch, held an iron grip over the First Order. She required no insignia on her clothes, no blaster at her side. All she needed was the single-minded determination in those eyes, the merciless drive that cut down everything in her path, and men would follow her to their death.
Then, just as suddenly, she looked away, and his heart began to beat again. He swam to the pool's edge and gripped the cold durasteel, catching his breath and looking absently ahead. The feeling of unease had lessened now that the General's attention was elsewhere.
He realized what he had been staring at, within the shadows below the catwalk, and terror gripped him again as quickly as it had receded.
Kylo Ren sat about ten feet away from him.
FN-2187 didn't even have time to blink before the shaking began.
0530 hours. Outer Rim.
"You are distracted, Lord Ren."
The voice came to him as clearly as if Snoke had been standing at his side. "Master."
"You cannot hope to get the information you seek if your mind is not clear," Snoke continued, his tone low and dangerous. "What is occupying your thoughts, my student?"
Floating within the glittering web of Force energy, Kylo Ren released another strand with a sigh. He'd been attempting to grasp and follow any lead that burned brighter than the others, searching for his uncle. No one could completely erase their Force signature, not here in the vast ether; and so, Skywalker had to be here, somewhere in this tangled web.
"I have had dreams," he finally answered, cringing even in his meditative state. "About Leia Organa Solo."
"She is strong in the Force," Snoke hissed. "If she makes contact with you-"
"I will not be swayed," Ren said quickly. "But I don't believe this to be her intention. She is simply... there. As if waiting for something."
"Waiting for you to change your mind." Malicious glee from his master swirled into Ren's heart and exploded into thousands of black shards. "Waiting for you to deny your destiny. Your very core. It is pathetic."
"Yes," Ren agreed, swallowing the bile that rose involuntarily into his throat at the thought of his mother, her warm brown eyes and her sad smile. "She will not succeed. I am a Knight of Ren, and I await your guidance."
"There is something else," Snoke sneered. Ren waited, curious.
"General Hux. I've sensed your thoughts, Lord Ren. Envy, anger. Even attraction. A maelstrom of emotions. I wonder if they are clear in their intent, or if they cloud your mind."
What? Preposterous, Ren's mind scoffed, but he did not dare challenge his master.
"She is but a pawn in your plan," he replied, uncertainty prickling in his skull. The idea that Snoke had sensed something amiss in him, especially when it came to that woman, was ludicrous. "She is not important."
"Peace is a lie," said Snoke. "There is only passion."
Ren's consciousness trembled. He knew the words of the Sith by heart, of course. "Guide me, Master. Am I somehow remiss in my thoughts of the General?"
Snoke was silent for a while. "No. Passion is the core of our being. The form it takes, whether rage, ambition, or lust... it is not for us to decide. The General has it, too. That is why her goals are so well aligned with ours. Her core calls to you, Lord Ren, and in time, you will see a use for it."
"Understood, Master," Ren said, not actually entirely understanding. "I-"
The connection cut off abruptly as something inside him screamed, Danger.
0535 hours. Stormtrooper training facility, Level 41B.
FN-2187 watched in horror as one of the supports on the catwalk collapsed, taking the upper section with it. Beneath it, Kylo Ren's dark form seemed to come alive, as if out of a trance. Moving at inhuman speed, he was suddenly at the pool's edge, away from the falling metal, his gloved hand reaching out to stop himself from being crushed. Part of a railing hurtled toward him, along with a person, long arms and legs flailing.
Hux, FN-2187 thought as Kylo Ren seemed to come to the same conclusion. His hand rose, and the falling body jerked in a sudden change of direction, missing the debris by inches and sailing over their heads into the pool.
The troopers stared, but did not move, as the General's unconscious form bobbed briefly on the water, and sank.
FN-2187 finally forced his limbs to unfreeze. Something in his heart wouldn't allow him to let her die, despite the benefit it would undoubtedly bring to the galaxy. He prepared to kick off the wall and go to her when a dark shape hurtled past him, barely making a splash as it dove straight down. He only got a glimpse of black boots before the water obscured his view.
Nearby soldiers gathered by the edge, unsure what to do; clearly, no one wanted to follow Ren down. FN-2187 decided it was a good idea to make himself scarce, and climbed out just as the two shapes in the water became larger and more distinct. He had barely made it out of the pool before Ren's helmet broke the surface.
The crowd stepped back as the dark figure climbed out, easily holding the still limp General Hux in his arms. He set her down by the edge, her head lolling, red hair spreading on the durasteel in a wet halo.
"Get a medic," he snarled, voice distorted by the modulator. "Now!"
A flurry of activity followed, with people running to summon help. In a clear circle within the crowd, the last thing FN-2187 saw before he left was Kylo Ren's hand reaching over Hux's pale face, the gloved fingers touching her blue lips.
... ? hours.
"Emmeline."
Hux opened her eyes. Her feet were bare for some reason, and buried to the ankles in snow. Strangely, she did not feel cold.
She stood in a garden of stone. Statues rose around her, oddly familiar, their arms wreathed in white. It was snowing heavily, and she could see no horizon in the distance. Buildings loomed like giants, hidden in the white fog, only their outlines visible. Hux tried to focus on them, but the more she did, the blurrier they became.
The garden, however, was clear and crisp in her vision. A fountain rose before her, its water long frozen over. She turned around again, examining her bare arms, almost as white as the snow itself. She wore a red gown, its train staining the ground like blood, the only color in the pale landscape.
I know this, she thought. I wore it at the Inaugural Ball, on Arkanis.
"Emmeline."
She turned her head, and faced the tall man standing by the fountain. His once-red hair had long ago turned white, matching the dress uniform he wore. Medals adorned his chest, and a polished ceremonial sword hung from his waist. His eyes were mirror images to hers, two blue pinpoints in his aged face.
"Father," she breathed, not daring to look away. The outline of his image wavered, as if he were a mirage.
Brendol Hux inclined his head. "How is my daughter?"
She paused, sheepish for the first time in years. "I... I'm not certain."
"I was inquiring about Kevyn," he said harshly, his eyes glinting with the disdain that was all too familiar. "You I know quite well."
Hux sighed, looking down at the ground now, studying the folds in her dress. Of course he would ask about her sister. He was rarely interested in anyone else since their mother had died. "Kevyn is safe, Father," she replied, forcing the longing from her tone. "She knows her place in the galaxy."
The elder Hux huffed derisively. "While you continue to disappoint me."
She looked up, a spark of anger growing in her heart. "You've been dead for ten years."
He seemed unmoved by her words, and strode toward her, unimpeded by the carpet of snow that held her ankles fast. "What did I always teach you? The first rule of command?"
Hux glared at him, her mind working furiously to determine his reason for asking.
"Well?" he demanded, coming to a stop in front of her, his arms crossed. He towered over her by at least a foot, and Hux felt like a child again, being reprimanded for some minute failure.
"Do not ignore the smallest of your men," she said through gritted teeth.
"And what did you do? The exact same."
Hux blinked away the falling snow. The last thing she remembered was sweat, trying to catch her breath from her run. Then, the catwalk. Shaking, screaming. Then darkness.
Lieutenant Andwel, the thought came. He'd tried to warn me.
She had ignored his requests for a meeting, even that morning. In his notes, the lieutenant had expressed concern about the condition of the training facilities, including the structural issues in the pool area. It had all been there, on her desk.
The snow picked up, and the outlines of buildings completely disappeared. "You've grown careless," her father said. "Distracted. What is occupying your thoughts, girl?"
Hux scowled, but did not answer. Her mind had been busy recently, avoiding conflict, and she'd been unable to find room in it for anyone except...
"I know," Brendol Hux sneered. "The Knight of Ren. You waste your thoughts on a man who is neither your husband nor your superior. Such behavior is unseemly."
Something inside her bristled at his words, and she straightened up, facing him square. "Kylo Ren is not important beyond his uses to our cause," she snapped. "The First Order is my top priority. You know that."
Her father shook his head, as if not believing. "You were always much too passionate. If you were a man, you'd understand." His tone was harsh and unyielding, just as she remembered. "This post allows no room for anything, or anyone, else in your life."
A hot flush painted her cheeks. "I see," she replied viciously. "I bet Mother liked that way of thinking."
His arm lashed out, and Hux felt the stinging blow on her face, the force of it bending her sideways. Her father may have been dead, and this may only have been a dream, but it still hurt. She'd felt many similar ones before, when she was too small and too scared to resist. But she was no longer small, or scared.
She straightened up as he swung again, her years of training taking over. With strength fueled by anger, she blocked the next blow easily. Ducking beneath his arm, Hux put her weight behind a full-body shove, knocking him into the snow. Her crimson dress blew in the rising wind like a flag.
"You always wished for a son, Father," she hissed. "You resented having to admit to your men that you couldn't sire one, that you had to settle for a daughter in the Academy. That you were forced to train a girl to fulfill your legacy."
He stared at her, as if disbelieving she could raise a hand to him. Hux's body shook in fury.
"But I did what you could not," she said, her lips twisting in a smile. "I bargained with Snoke. I united the fleet. I did it, myself, and I bet that really twisted the knife, didn't it?"
"It will never be enough," he snarled from below her, but his voice was drowned out by the roar in her own ears. She loomed above him, and he suddenly looked pitiful to her, a sad old man too blind to see her triumph. The snow was up to her waist now, but she did not care. If she died here, at least she had made her point.
"I am no longer a child you can strike at will," she spoke evenly, the thrill of pride coursing through her, so hot that she wondered why it didn't melt the snow away. "I am General Hux of the First Order, commander of the Finalizer, and you will not touch me again. Ever."
Her father opened his mouth then, and said, "Time to go home."
Hux stared at him, for his voice had not been his.
"What?"
"Emmeline."
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the newcomer. She was just on the verge of telling the old bastard how she felt. Who was bothering her?
Emmeline.
The voice was now in her mind as well as her ears. Hux closed her eyes, dizzy as the flurries of snow swirled around, consuming her in white.
"Leave me alone," she moaned.
General...
"General!"
Her eyes snapped open, and focused on two dark spots in an extremely bright light. She groaned, trying to roll over. Her head and her right shoulder hurt immensely, and the hard surface she was lying on did not help.
"Oh, Madam, we are so glad you're awake!"
Hux grimaced, cracking her eyes open slightly to get used to the light. From the smell of antiseptic and the metallic speech, she knew exactly where she was.
"We shall alert the Lieutenant Generals right away," the medical droid chirped, much too enthusiastically. "I'm sure they will be extremely happy to hear the good news of your recovery."
"Oh, sure," she grumbled, clutching her shoulder and feeling the telltale fullness of a bandage. "They're going to be ecstatic. What time is it?"
"1230 hours standard time," said a new voice, and Hux squinted toward the sound. After a few moments, she made out the fidgety figure of her assistant.
"Selvan," she said bluntly, "I missed my meeting."
The young man's mouth quirked into a smile. "Not exactly, ma'am. I cancelled it upon receiving news of your injury. Are you all right?"
She sat up quickly, ignoring the accompanying dizziness, and glared at him. "I'm not bloody dead, am I? Just a minor mishap."
"I beg pardon," the medical droid tut-tutted from the corner, "but that is an inaccurate description. You were struck in the right temple by a metal railing when the catwalk you were standing on collapsed. You were then thrown fifty feet in the air, landing in the pool, and according to eyewitness accounts, sank to the bottom before being retrieved."
Hux stared, open-mouthed, at the droid. "What?"
Selvan cleared his throat. "Well... General... "
"You have five seconds to report everything you know, Selvan," she warned. "I almost drowned?"
"You did drown, Madam," the medical droid said helpfully. "You were revived only due to Lord Ren's quick thinking. He pumped the water from your-"
Hux sank back onto the cot, putting her head in her hands. "Oh, sweet merciful gods, please tell me the bucket of bolts is mistaken."
"I am far superior technologically to a bucket of bolts," said the droid, rolling toward a gurney with an unmistakable huff in its voice. "The probability of error in my assessment is one in three thousand, seven hundred and fifty nine."
Selvan was clearly trying not to laugh, but wiped the smile from his face when Hux glared at him. He coughed. "I am afraid the droid is correct, ma'am. Multiple witnesses confirm that Commander Ren dove into the pool to rescue you, and then proceeded to administer first aid until help arrived."
Hux bent over, feeling sick. A part of her almost wished she'd died rather than owed her life to Ren. He would never let her live it down.
Why the hell did he save me, anyway?
She lifted her head to find Selvan looking at her expectantly. "Where is he now?"
"I'm not sure, ma'am," he replied with a shrug. "He left as soon as the medical team arrived."
"I see." She cocked her head thoughtfully. Only Ren had ever called her by her first name, and it was his voice she had heard, at the end of her vision.
Curious...
"Get me a change of clothes," she commanded, standing up and gesturing to her medical gown. "I need to meet with Lieutenant Andwel immediately."
Selvan rose as well. "Of course."
"Madam General," the droid beeped indignantly, "I insist you really must rest after such an ordeal."
"I'll rest when I'm dead," Hux said, picking up her comlink from the stool near the cot. "Oh, and after the meeting, let's check on the Resistance prisoner."
Her assistant looked surprised. "I'm certain the team has gotten the information by now. And if not, then Lord Ren certainly has."
She paused in the middle of collecting her belongings, a plan springing to mind. "Keep Ren away from the prisoner for the next few hours. I'll pay him back his favor and interrogate the man myself."
"General," Selvan began warily, "are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Don't be silly," she said, waving him off. "I don't want to owe Ren anything. And we should show him that the First Order doesn't need rescuing in all respects. Am I clear?"
"Transparently," Selvan replied with a short bow. "I'll fetch Andwel."
She nodded, deep in thought. Ren's saving her still did not make sense. In fact, plenty of Lieutenant Generals would die (or kill) for her position. Perhaps one of them would be less abrasive, more easily swayed. Ren should have jumped at the chance.
Shaking her head, she decided to file away that thought for another time. For now, she had work to do.