Frantic research consumed the rest of my day and most of the night. I scoured the First Order database for every scrap of information related to the Sith, the Jedi, and the Force. Apparently, there was an evil cabal in the Galaxy known as the Light Side of the Force.
And its noble opposition, the Dark Side.
The texts painted a gruesome picture of the Jedi―the very same Jedi Order from the legends of my youth. They were radicals who suppressed their emotions and lived their lives without pleasure, both physical and emotional. They took younglings away from their parents, indoctrinated them, and forced them to fight for the Galactic Republic. Fortunately, the Jedi Order and the Republic were completely wiped out in 19 BBY by Lord Sidious, a powerful Sith who went on to become Emperor.
However...
Fragments of the Jedi schemed with the Rebellion―the rebels who famously brought down the Galactic Empire in 6 ABY. Sidious was murdered along with his apprentice. The New Republic then rose to power, dabbling once more in the wicked practices of the Jedi. Luckily, a young Sith acolyte named Snoke preserved the power of the Dark Side of the Force as well as the legacy of the Empire. He was responsible for the destruction of the last Jedi Temple in 28 ABY.
But all this was history. I wanted to know about Kylo Ren.
I reread the singular database entry on him at least fifty times: "Lord Kylo Ren is a Force-sensitive apprentice of Supreme Leader Snoke. He oversees intelligence-gathering operations within the First Order."
I finally left my computer terminal at 0300 and sat on my bed, rubbing my temples. I glanced at my cold half-eaten dinner, and my stomach gave a miserable growl in response. Breakfast would be delivered in three hours, and my first shooting range practice was in four hours. I lifted up a random lock of my hair and smelled it. Plastoid. I should probably shower.
Somehow, I fell asleep.
I rushed out the door with my hair still slightly damp. I opted to wear my dark gray uniform rather than the bulky armor. On a gamble, I left the cap behind.
As I walked down the hall toward the speed lift, I noticed a service droid opening the door to Lord Ren's quarters with its output arm. It buzzed inside just as I passed, and I couldn't resist stealing a glimpse through the closing door.
My view only lasted half a second: a sliver of dark hair and light skin. I sucked in a breath and doubled my pace down the hall. Kylo Ren was human―or at least looked human.
A giddy smile erupted on my face.
On the speed lift, I accidentally pressed the button for level twenty. I mistakenly tried to get off when a Stormtrooper entered but luckily noticed my mistake. I bounced on my heels impatiently as the lift descended to twenty-two.
The shooting range was not empty, so I chose a lane as far away from the others as possible. Fortunately, the system was identical to the range from my exam. I began target practice with a blaster rifle, trying not to go red in the face whenever I missed a shot.
When the empty lane next to me booted to life, I immediately lowered my weapon. A man stepped into my peripheral vision, raising a blaster pistol. I stole an awkward glance and accidentally locked eyes with him.
"Caltrel," he greeted curtly.
"Vegas," I squeaked.
Unsurprisingly, he was a sharpshooter. I tried to convince myself that he didn't notice the terrible hit-to-miss ratio on my screen. He was definitely a conscript.
After several minutes, I heard Vegas clear his throat between clips.
"That was some mission yesterday," he said in a casual tone.
I felt myself glow with pride even as I pictured the unfinished report on my datapad. I had stopped at the...execution. "It was," I murmured.
"Even Hux was impressed," he said with a small smirk.
"Do you work with Ren often?" I asked, trying to play it cool. It didn't work.
I felt Vegas' eyes on me as I raised my rifle, and my finger trembled on the trigger. Thankfully, I made the shot. "Every day," he replied. "I've been assigned to intel for two years now."
"That's impressive. How did you manage it?"
He gave me a sideways glance, and I could tell he saw right through me. I kept my eyes fixed ahead as I lined up my next shot. "Working hard. Being there, and being ready to follow orders without question."
My sights drifted as I absorbed the precious advice.
"Ambitious, Caltrel?"
I pulled the trigger and missed by a wide margin. I breathed out a laugh as I lowered my rifle. "Not at all. I just want to follow orders."
He raised his pistol to finish off the clip. "I gotcha."
After he left, I bit my lip when I realized I'd missed an opportunity to ask him about himself. The system soon notified me that my hour of practice time was complete.
As I walked back to my room, my regret for not talking more with Vegas mounted. Weirdly, he was my closest acquaintance. He probably had similar questions about Ren and the Sith when he first joined the intel team. And I had so many questions.
I suddenly found myself standing in front of Ren's quarters with the undeniable temptation to knock. I felt my hand ball into a fist at the embarrassing image. He probably saw me as just another officer rotating through his team. He didn't care about me or my questions.
Back in my room, I tried and failed to finish my report. My mind kept drifting. Eventually, another search through the database sat at my fingertips, showing me the same entry I had already viewed three or four times. As I let my eyes scan through the text just in case I had missed something, I came to a realization.
I'm obsessed.
My communicator pulled me back to reality. It beeped incessantly, and I realized with a gulp that it was Captain Phasma. I raised my wrist and answered it.
"This is Caltrel."
"So, Sergeant Bach informs me that you are responsible for his mission report from yesterday."
"Yes, ma'am. It's almost finished," I said lamely.
"See that it's done, Caltrel," she admonished. "Reports are due to me within twelve hours for future reference."
I finished the report within an hour. Bach had told me to write about the mission objectively. I chose my words carefully when it came to the weapon supplier's execution. After rereading it, I changed the word "shocking" to "abrupt."
I practically jogged to Phasma's office. When I saw that she was busy, I decided to leave the datacube in the labeled inbox by the door. As soon as I―
"Corporal," she barked.
I froze.
With a single jab of her finger, she ordered me to sit. I complied with the enthusiasm of a scolded child. "Yes, ma'am?" I asked.
She looked up at me, her attention divided between me and her computer terminal. "Corporal Vegas already submitted his report. But I want to hear your thoughts on it."
"Here's my report."
I set my datacube on the one empty space on her cluttered desk. She sat like an unmoving statue, her gaze eerily fixed on me. I cleared my throat when I realized she expected an in-person report as well.
"The mission was―um―very good. Our approach was efficient. We retrieved the information we needed without much trouble."
"Vegas told me you were nervous," she said, watching my reaction closely.
My mouth suddenly felt dry. "I was," I admitted.
"Did you feel prepared for the mission?"
I shook my head. "I did, until...things went...unexpectedly."
She hummed, seeming to know what I was referring to.
"It was fine," I murmured distractedly. "I'm not bothered by it."
Phasma leaned forward and folded her hand on a stack of datapads in front of her. I had her full attention now. "Was it relevant to the mission, 38?"
My eyes scanned the dark visor where her eyes would be. "I guess it was a bit..." I swallowed thickly. "Unnecessary."
"Excellent," she chirped. "Were Ren under my command, he would have received disciplinary action for that decision. Do you understand, 38?"
I nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am."
She relaxed back in her seat and turned her attention back to her terminal. "Vegas thinks Ren meant to test you. I believe you passed."
The tidbit of information took over every thought in my brain. The mixture of relief and anxiety I felt was equal parts exciting and confusing. If that was a test, did I actually pass? If I did, what else was in store? Phasma's droll voice brought me back to her office.
"Carry on, Corporal."
I stood and saluted, but my feet remained glued to the floor.
"Captain...may I ask you something?"
She was already typing away on her terminal with practiced fingers. "Of course," she droned.
I hesitated for what felt like an eternity. "The database doesn't have much on Lord Ren. Do you know why?"
Phasma's typing faltered when she looked at me pointedly. "Kylo Ren is a servant of the Dark Side. There is nothing else to know."
My eyes fell, and her typing stopped altogether.
"Caltrel, I prefer military tactics over sorcery. When our agendas align, I tolerate it," she snapped in annoyance. Then she paused. "Woman to woman, I would advise you to feel the same."
Feeling thoroughly licked, I bowed my head apologetically. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
I hurried down the hall to the speed lift, wondering just how far my obsession would take me.
