Fandom Pandemonium: A Star Wars Saga

[maladaptivedreamer]

How is it that you go about defining

GOOD

and

EVIL

?

Are you tormented by memories?

Burdened by guilt?

The fool dreamt of bringing new magic into the world.
But instead,

He created me.

Lucyfer​

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

Kenna-Upari.
Mos Eisley Cantina, Tatooine.
​

Oases are amidst most desert lands throughout the galaxy.

They burst forth and create verdant spots. A sweet haven, they serve as sanctuary for travellers, often containing villages. Otherwise, travel across the wasteland of burning dunes would venture on impossibility. See, to be thirsty in a desert without water, or exposed to the burning sun without shelter, is potentially the most terrible situation that a human could be placed in. One of the greatest sufferings that a human being can sustain; the tongue and lips swell; a hollow sound aches in the ears, and the brain begins to grow thick and inflamed. Kenna knew, because she had endured it. Worse so, if a soul fell sick on the road, they’d endure the fatigue of traveling on a Blurrg (troublesome even to the healthy) or simply be left until slow death came to relieve them.

There were no oases on Tatooine. There was only the death trap of sand— coarse, rough, irritating and everywhere. If one were to survive the detriments of thirst or hunger, greater danger lurked around every corner. The self-proclaimed locals, Tusken Raiders, were not fond of trespassers. From the stories Kenna had heard of them, she fancied death on the dunes paled in comparison. A merciful blessing. Still, she had not come to Tatooine to die. Although, death was always a very real consequence when it came to business with Han. Instead, she was to venture to the Mos Eisley Cantina, where she would meet the KanjiKlub and settle past transgressions with little fuss. That was how straightforward Solo made it sound. Albeit, for some reason, Han’s ‘straightforward’ never really seemed to unravel so.

Mos Eisley was a small civilisation on Tatooine. Although it did not settle near an oasis, the inhabitants distilled their water via abstraction of atmospheric components. It was a bit of a gamble, if you asked Kenna, who had come to learn that the universe had one law: anything that could go wrong, would go wrong— at least, eventually. If she had the choice, Tatooine would definitely not be her planetary residence. Yet, for the inhabitants of the desert wasteland, its’ undesirability held its own sanctuary. Left on the outer rim, it lay largely untouched by the grasping claws of the First Order, and the Empire before it. In fact, law and order remained a concept entirely unknown to the climate there. Mos Eisley had always been a den of debauchery, alcoholism and the great unwashed of the Outer Rim. It still was. Nobody came here with anything wholesome in mind. Conversations here were uttered low, threats and deals hurtled beneath the melodic chirp of the cantina band. Faces hid beneath a dirty haze of smoke; the stagnant stench of cigarettes hid well within the collaboration of mephitic odours. Today, there was even a tinge of sick tainting the fragrance of the room. How lucky Kenna was indeed.

It seemed funny to think just days ago, she had met with such a well-respected man, when now she mixed amongst the outlaws of the galaxy. She wondered what Han would say, when she told him that Lor San Tekka had sought her out. At any other time, it might have been an outright ‘no’, with little thought and consideration. Yet, they were technically with the resistance now. Han couldn’t say no to this. Right? This task was important. Leia wanted to find her brother, and many believed Tekka was their greatest hope. This run could be essential! It wouldn’t be hard, either; all they had to do was recover something from Lah’mu. Sure, the old man had been a little bit cryptic about precisely what she was looking for, if not ominously ambiguous; “you will know, when you see it” was not a clear and concise instruction, but it wasn’t exactly difficult; Kenna knew Lah’mu like the back of her hand. She had grown up there. More notably, the people of Lah’mu were refugees. They’d want to avoid the drama. As far as missions went, she was certain that dealing with Lor San Tekka would be pretty straightforward.

What could possibly go askew?

“Now, boys,” A sheepish smiled toyed with the girl’s lips, as she lifted one leg to rest upon the other. “We’re all friends here. No? There’s no need for the hostilities. You hurt me. Truly, you do”.

The stern faces before her did not budge an inch. Unravelling her shoulders, Kenna slowly leant back. For a moment, her chin jilted, eyes flittering in search of a reaction. “I wouldn’t recommend reaching for that blaster,” she interjected. Curious eyes shot to her face, as though she had read his very mind. “That would be a very stupid idea”.

Day or night, the cantina did not discriminate. Darkness shrouded all. The only glint in the abyss came, not from the suns of Tatooine, but the tips of cigars. This was not a meeting predestined to succeed. After some wise cracks, the shoot-out would begin. “Stupid?” He huffed, clouds tufting through his lips between words. His cigar was plucked from where it lay and ground, carelessly, upon the surface of the table. “You are stupid,” he used the remnants to point. “You come in here and make demands. You are outnumbered here, girl, and you will not find any help”.

“I don’t need help,” she replied, plainly. It was a beautiful lie. Sometimes, in the den of the beast, pretence was the only option. It was a bold move, but she hoped it would be convincing enough to act as a temporary deterrent. “Tell me if I’m wrong. I counted six. Two outside, the fidgety one at the door, the one at the bar that looks like he wants to eat me, and the two of you. Six to one. If I was a betting man, I’d say the odds were in my favour”.

“You would be a poor man, then,” the left goon, Turgo, laughed, “with nothing left to gamble”.

It took all the strength Kenna had to not roll her eyes. They remained upon the duo, steadfast. Turgo was an ugly creature, with a sharpened visage and sharper words. His wit could cut. At least, he certainly thought so. His lips were constantly curled in an omnipresent sneer, as though there were not a person in the room worth his acknowledgement. His friend, on the right, was quieter. Kenna would gamble he held no less a threat. His eyes moved constantly, flitting to each movement and every detail. He was persistently aware of his surroundings. His silence spoke what his friends words could not.

“True,” She retorted, after a small pause of contemplation. “See, I don’t have a lot to lose. But, you… you do. Don’t you?” Eyes of sweet blue hovered patronisingly upon her whiny foe. “If you don’t get results, people will be unhappy. And, if people are unhappy…” she sung, “well…” lifting her hand, the auburn-haired girl brought her thumb across her neck, in a cut-throat motion.

“You can die too, girl”.

Lifting her drink, her cup hovered before her lips. As though remarking on the arid climate, or potential sandstorms outside, Kenna sipped merrily on the contents with. A small hum accompanied the tweak of two sculpted brows. “I can? Mm. Maybe, you’re right. Maybe, I can die. Then, what?” A single brow lowered. “Come on, I’m curious. Kill me, and then what happens next? What do you have?” Leaning forth, her voice lowered to a breathy whisper. “Absolutely nothing. That’s what, boys ... So,” she grinned, cheerfully placing the drink atop the surface, “let me tell you how this goes. Han doesn’t want to meet. You want to kill him. He doesn’t want to die. Are we all on the same page?” Her nose scrunched. Victory was the puppeteer of her rosy lips, tugging upon each corner. “You let me leave. I’ll go and get the money you claim he owes—”

“He does”

“I’ll get the money that you claim he owes,” she reiterated, “plus some, as goodwill… a token of friendship, you might say. Then, we can consider this a story to laugh at over drinks”. She glimpsed, curiously, from face to face. “What d'you say?”

“Or...” Kenna’s chirpy smile faltered. Her gut screamed at her to run. Instead, she awaited, sitting at the edge of her seat. “We take you anyway. We force you to give us the money and we do whatever we please”.

“Well… that would be rude—” she began but ducked instinctively, the heat of his blaster narrowly missing her. The hum of the cantina stopped. In the spur of the moment, her right hand itched to her holster, withdrawing her own. Fine, aggressive negotiations it was. “If you want anything from me, you at very least need me alive!” She seethed, teeth grit. This was the last time she ever let Han talk her into an ‘adventure’.

Next time, he could stick it right up his-

“But not in one piece. Put the blaster on the table--”

“--Absolutely not,” Kenna interjected, with a firm shake of her head. Auburn locks kissed the bare of her slender shoulders, bouncing in consequence. Eyes set to his own, she wavered two fingers before him. It was a last resort; a cheap party trick she had only ever pulled off once upon a time, and even after thought she had imagined it. “You’re going to let me go,” she bid.

His pal on the right snorted.

“Put the blaster on the table,” Turgo repeated, firmly. Amusement clear on the throne of his visage. “Or, we’ll count our losses and call it a bad job”.

Kenna’s eyes fluttered to their surroundings. Much as he described, no one was coming to her aid. The cantina band had even begun to play once more. Each soul continued to go about their business. They were not concerned with any other so long as it did not affect them. Scoffing, she chewed the inside of her mouth. A pensive glance was cast to the doorway. She pondered how far she could run before they hit her.

“Turgo,” she grimaced. “Friend... We don’t really need to resolve it like this. When you think about it, we both just want—"

His stare dead set. With a final glimpse to recalculate her odds, Kenna placed the blaster on the table between them, defeated. Her hands raised in surrender.

“Fine. Now what?”

​

“Now, we wait for our friends,” Turgo’s hitherto silent friend replied, as matter of factly. “You see, had we not received a better offer, we may have considered your deal. But, we give you, to them, we get twice the price and to still blast a hole in Solo’s head”.

Upari’s eyes glanced down to the table. ‘Them’ was ominously ambiguous. A sharp exhalation blew throw her azalea lips. “What do you mean... them?”

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

Poe Dameron.
Resistance Base, D'Qar.​

Not far from the riverbed shaded by vegetation, where the diaphanous stream splashed, where creatures flew amongst the immense viridescence, sat the resistance base.

It was half hidden by eternal greens and no small miracle that they remained undetected. No less, they were, defiant and resilient, as was the cause they fought for. Poe often liked to reminisce outside at night. Serenity could be found in the nearby water, gushing and serenading. It was soft lullaby, harmonised by the hooting of hidden birds. If one were stupid enough to brave the natural predation, including the carnivorous planted, the moons of the planet shone bright upon the veil of water. The river stretched far, with a silvery seduction that could lure the most resilient to their demise and evoke bewitching sirens into envy. The planet was full of sound: the stream between the rocks, wind among the needles of branches, the chitter of insects and the cries of small arboreal mammals; from time to time, a stronger gust of wind would make the branches move and groan hauntingly to passers-by.

Indeed, Poe felt this planet embodied the resistance in every sense: the beauty, the wilderness, the wisdom. It could not be tamed and had never been triumphantly. The choice of the base spoke a thousand words for the spirit of the cause. ‘Whilst this world stands, there shall always be liberation, freedom, justice, and a home for all whom seek it’. True, D’Qar was a place of brilliant sunlight, never dappled. Through the jungle, shafts of honey-gold brilliance drizzled upon to the floor, between bars and pools of brown-green shade; and the light was never still, never constant, because drifting mist would often float among the treetops, filtering all the sunlight to a pearly sheen and brushing every flower with moisture that glistened when the mist lifted. And, unlike in civilisation, the buildings did not obstruct the wilderness— but both, instead, thrived with thorough co-dependency. Embracive arms of jade cradled the valiant brick of the base and carried it towards the heavens, as the X-Wings did the fighters. The trees of D’Qar stood side by side with their fellow soldiers, valiant and equipped with the wisdom of the wind.

Today, Poe noted a particular bird within the skyline. Basking in her nest atop a grand, somewhat crooked, pillar, the creature unravelled her wings and gazed languidly beneath her. Hers was an enviable vantage point, he noted, with view both the ever-stretching mountain tops and abysmal, sludgy swamp land. A little further East, Poe knew, was the sun-washed ruins of a past civilisation, whose pure white columns were always aglow in the silvery gleam of the evening moon. He’d flew above it a few times in his starfighter ace and had always been curious to investigate since. Stretching her neck, the bird once more drew his attention. It looked on south, where a ridge of mountains rose from the jungle. Only, the creature’s focus was drawn nearer, closer. For, in this low-lying hollow, strewn with tumbled masonry and flanked to the west by tall ravenous trees, was the reedy looking swamp, alive with prey, the easiest pickings for a filling lunch.

If there was one severe disadvantage of D’Qar, it was the heat. Although, he usually pushed past it. Today, it was becoming more and more unbearable. Nothing further moved, and yet the air pulsated. It pulsated to the rhythm of the jungle’s screams, as creatures screeched their parched crescendo nearby. There was increasing fervour built through the searing temperature, no doubt in desperation to attract a mate or ally. It pulsated in the rock cut tombs, the abandoned theatres dusty bowl, the crumbling cairns and heavy palm trees. It pulsated in the rustling vibration of scorched grass. It was too hot, too merciless to sit still. And, although hidden from the ruthlessness of the sun within the base, Poe found himself looking for work to do.

“Rest?” He turned to acknowledge the small droid that wheeled near his feet. Dameron shook his head. “Who says there is time to rest?” A chuckle thrummed between his lips as it bleeped in dismay. “Come on, BB-8. Happy bleeps only. Who knows, maybe this mission might take us somewhere a bit less… here?” A few eyes cast his way as he uttered his words aloud, seemingly to no one at all, but Poe was not in the routine of catering his behaviour to others. BB-8 came to a halt, whizzed in the area it had chosen to stand its’ ground. “Hey, I know, buddy. I’m not so hot about the idea myself,” broad shoulders rolled back. “But, what can we do about it? You heard the General”. The pilot shook his head, dark and heavy curls falling into his eyes. A hand promptly moved to push them back. “Besides, you know that I got in trouble last time for taking that task alone. It goes against team spirit… or something of that kind”. Truthfully, Poe agreed with the little droid. He’d much rather tackle this task alone. People had a way of managing to complicate things. Not to mention, there was always the matter of trust. He did not particularly enjoy incorporating others into matters of confidentiality. Yet, given that the encryption of this mission required solid skill, he was beginning to feel there was no other option.

As they entered the canteen, his eyes skirted the room in search of his target. Soon enough, they settled comfortably on the oblivious blonde, who’d nestled down to eat her lunch. That in mind, his stomach gave an angered grumble. He probably ought to eat soon too. “Would you look at that?” He quirked a brow, glancing to the whirring bot. “There she is. That’s half the job done,” shuffling his weight from one foot onto another, his hands were shoved into the pockets of his trousers. The droid rolled before him, omitting a series of melodic tones. “What do you mean, I’m stalling?” Dameron scoffed, with a roll of his eyes towards the ceiling wiring. “I’m just thinking, that’s all”. Two fingers lifted to his temple, which he tapped accordingly. “Something you might understand one day, when you grow up”. With a large stride, the pilot stepped over his friend, moving towards the table.

He approached from behind, reaching across her shoulder to pry a sandwich from her tray. A smirk from ear to ear, he pried the contents between pearly whites, chewing with his mouth shut before swallowing. With great momentum he slumped onto the bench opposite Zenda, taking a contemplative bite as he glanced at her. “Not a bad choice,” he nodded to the food, having finished his current mouthful. “It isn’t my favourite, though. Dameron, Poe Dameron,” he extended his free hand, having wiped it on his combats. Somewhere beneath the table, BB-8 gave a disheartened groan. “Zenda Parsi, isn’t it? Resistance decryption officer? Quite the mechanic, if I remember right. You fixed up my starfighter one time, not a bad job”. His tongue clicked upon the back of his teeth, as he inhaled sharply between them. “I mean it wasn’t perfect, but not too shabby”. A million-credit smile was subsequently cast her was, as he sheepishly ran a hand through his curly locks.

Lifting the remnants of the sandwich to his lips, Poe neatly shovelled it down in one go. His stomach still grumbled below the table surface. Hungry eyes darted to the counter, having regretted not stopping for his own tray first. “I know what you’re probably thinking,” his tongue ran the length of his lower lip, worried that he was practically salivating. “When is this guy going to leave, and what does he want? I’m actually here on official business. Now that I think about it, somebody’s lunch hour probably wasn’t the best time to go about it. But, we’re all imperfect, aren’t we? Besides, the First Order doesn’t just stop cause the shift does”. Clearing his throat, he leant a little closer across the table. His voice lowered, conscious of prying ears around. “General Organa sent me. Or rather, she tasked me with a mission that I figure involves a damn lot of decryption. Considering that isn’t exactly my strong suit, I figured I could do with a second opinion. Unfortunately for you, a little bird told me that you’re the one to call”. That said, his spine unravelled, shoulders stretching back as he nestled comfortably into his seat once more. “There’s a lot more to be said, as you’d imagine, but not here. The General wants to keep this under wraps until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. It could be nothing but…” his eyes ran the length of the canteen. “I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about it”.

​

 

[Lucyfer]

Tatooine.

It was where it all began. It was the thought that Kylo Ren, Commander of the Knights of Ren, kept in his head as he sat in his chambers on the Finalizer and looked upon his gloved hands. He could feel the heat of Darth Vader’s gaze – or so he imagined – coming at him from the charred helmet he’d found on Endor’s moon all those years ago. He had broken from his meditation as he felt the entire ship begin to slow, pulling out of lightspeed. He knew they had arrived with no one alerting him, though he knew the fools throughout the ship would not have noticed anything different, save perhaps General Hux. Nothing seemed to be missed by him.

‘Except everything important. Everything significant.’

The betrayal of Terex was still fresh. They were a fool to ever trust Terex, and it put a stain on the other agents of the Order, as well. Kylo did not operate alongside them directly, and Colonel Garmuth told him what he needed to know, but since losing Terex their leads to Lor San Tekka had all but dried up.

Kylo knew he lived.

He knew he would know if Lor San Tekka ever died.

He had been a part of Kylo’s childhood, going with him and Luke to investigate anything that seemed Jedi. It was how he’d met Ren. It was how he’d known where to go, when everything came crashing down with Luke.

He took a deep breath and rose, grabbing his helmet and putting it back on to begin the walk to the hangar where his shuttle would, no doubt, be prepared for his departure, along with a contingency of Stormtroopers to make sure nothing happened. KanjiKlub wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy gang in the galaxy, but they had claimed to see Lor San Tekka on Tatooine, and more, that they knew his contact on Tatooine and would have her in Mos Eisley. A picture had been sent, so Kylo wouldn’t mistake her for anyone else, regardless.

He found the hangar bustling with activity when he arrived, but he also found Phasma situated near his shuttle. The one person who wasn’t an absolute imbecile or irritant to his day to day life. He gave the chrome woman a nod, “Is everyone on board?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Good.” He continued forward, and she fell in line a couple of steps after him, letting him load onto the shuttle first. Once she was on, she did not presume to issue any commands, allowing him to speak to the pilots, issuing a single, “Go!” and letting them pull out of the hangar with a small squadron of TIE fighters to follow, just in case there was any actual resistance. The scream of a TIE passing overhead was unmistakable, and intimidating on its own.

Kylo would not see it, but he would feel the tremble of fear as they broke into the atmosphere of the planet with the TIEs ahead, announcing their presence before the shuttle found an open space in Mos Eisley, not bothering with any proper hangar or landing pad, when there was ample enough space in the sand, irritating as it was. People were already moving and making a run for cover or houses as the ramp descended to let Kylo Ren step out, along with the lines of Stormtroopers behind him.

He was not losing another lead to Lor San Tekka.

He was taking all of these missions personally, now.

The Order’s agents had already proven they could not be trusted for such a simple task; not even the one they had in the Resistance knew where Lor San Tekka was.

Kylo Ren knew the way to Mos Eisley.

He had been there before as a child, with both Han and Luke, for very different reasons each time. Luke had wanted him to see Obi-Wan Kenobi’s home, as well as his own home. ‘Yet you never mentioned Him.’ Darth Vader had been brought up by neither parent, nor by Luke. He had found out when Leia fell from grace, and lost her position in the Senate, when someone ratted out the truth to the entire galaxy.

Only then had he learned, and not from her.

He was still bitter over much of that, though. So much of his legacy had been hidden from him, so much of the legacy of his family had been hidden from him, and for what? ‘To stop this.’ Well, now he knew better, and he knew Vader had been on the right track from the beginning, only to let some stupid sentiment get in the way at the end.

Kylo wouldn’t fall prey to that.

It was thus easy to look upon this world with a disdainful eye as he made his way to the cantina, and marched in, almost as if on a cue, shortly after the woman had asked about a certain ‘them’. It was easy for Kylo to recognize her, not by her looks, no, but by the way the Force pulsed around her. His attention would have been drawn there no matter what, even if she were not the one he was looking for. ‘So…did Lor San Tekka know?’ The old man couldn’t sense the Force, but he seemed to have some substantial luck when it came to his life, the sort that wove around Kylo’s own father, and pilots like Poe Dameron.

Not Force sensitive, perhaps, but Kylo always thought them…touched, all the same.

“Them.” Was said with a casual gesture by Turgo, that sneer remaining upon his lips as he started to rise from his seat, and turn towards the First Order that was walking in, Stormtroopers entering after Commander Ren to begin to cover the room while other occupants began to cower in their benches, or otherwise try to make themselves as small, and unthreatening, as possible. “So glad you could join us, Commander Ren.”

Kylo strode forward, little readable beneath the black armor and black helmet.

He didn’t address KanjiKlub, though. Not first. He stared at the auburn-haired woman and asked one, blunt question: “You know Lor San Tekka?” A negative would inspire only one reaction, but a positive would at least confirm Kanjiklub hadn’t lied. He expected a lie, he expected she might sense an escape in lying – it wouldn’t go so easily for her.

Nor for Kanjiklub if he soon learned they had lied, instead. He wasn’t handing over any credits until he had confirmation.

“Of course she—”

Kylo lifted his hand, and squeezed it into a fist, cutting off the voice with a gagging sound emitting from them instead. He hadn’t bothered to look at which one dared to interrupt him right then; that part wasn’t important. They needed to remember their place in all of this.

~***~

It should have been a peaceful morning.

Alexandria Pryde had sent her morning report back home, and returned to her current job, which was currently encrypting Resistance messages and working on the networks and radiowaves that sent them. It was honestly the best job for a spy; she was able to get the information to the Order about what radio frequencies to tune in to, how the Resistance was relaying their messages, and the codes to decode them.

On the other side, she also had to help them break First Order code; it was the risk of the job, and had led to the spilling of minor secrets of the First Order. The fact was, of course, that Alexandria could understand every First Order message that came through, but she had to pretend she couldn’t, and work on translating it using old Imperial ciphers, and, oddly enough, Sith ciphers.

That had been the most interesting part of her job, and she’d started learning the old Sith language as a part of this, which was near impossible, as even the protocol droid Threepio couldn’t teach her the language given his programming forbade it. Thankfully, her father was able to find a way for the teachings to end up in her path.

She hadn’t been able to ask him how he knew.

That seemed like a face-to-face subject, really.

‘Of course, given Imperial history….’ The thought bothered her, now and then, about what she knew of Sheev Palpatine and Darth Vader, the Empire her father and Terex had so loved. Of course, all she heard from the likes of Phasma and Hux was that they would be better than the Empire, and she wondered about that.

It was the thought that bothered her when she thought about Supreme Leader Snoke. What made him different from a Sith, exactly? What made Kylo Ren different from a Sith? How were they going to be different? ‘Well, we’re not destroying planets.’ One perk, she thought, as she added a sandwich to her tray and went to take her place off to the side, still musing over the more recent encryptions and the messages.

The Resistance was talking about quintessence, for some reason, which was a theoretical material. Yet, the Resistance was talking about it as if it were real, supposedly from something gathered in First Order transmissions she had not yet been privy to; she wasn’t the only codebreaker, after all. ‘It must be a code word for something else.’ That was the only thing she could think of, yet she was so distracted by that thought, she didn’t notice the shadow of someone fall over her as they approached, not until her dressto sandwich was taken. “Hey—” she turned in her seat, finding the thief to be none other than Poe Dameron.

‘What?’

She was too startled to continue, recognizing him immediately, but it didn’t soften her expression. It hardened it instead to a deeper irritation. He could get his own damn food. He probably had access to better food, given his position in relation to Leia. She practically treated him as a son. ‘Don’t mess this up. This one is key.’ She reminded herself, but it didn’t wipe the expression from her face.

He introduced himself and offered his hand after dubiously wiping it off. She accepted, and had no need to offer her name, only to confirm, “Yes,” that was the name she was going by, anyways, and he didn’t need to know anything else. She pulled her hand free soon enough, and drew it back to her side, her expression growing more dubious and annoyed. ‘What, are you trying to neg me?’ That was some backhanded complimented and a shit-eating smile.

Probably worked on some people. Actually, she was positive it did; Poe Dameron was quite the popular subject among many on base for how he looked. Alexandria couldn’t fault them; it was his mouth that was, currently, his problem.

At least he recognized he was annoying her, and she gave a half smile, a lift of her brows, and a bit of a shrug. Yeah, she was wondering when he’d get to the point. It was official, and when he leaned forward and spoke lower, she instinctively leaned closer to hear better, and take in that she was being offered something of a job with Poe Dameron.

That was a Big Deal.

She’d be an absolute idiot to pass it up. Working in proximity to Poe was going to bring her information the Order needed.

“Fine,” she leaned back as he straightened, allowing a smirk to touch her lips, “but on one condition,” she wasn’t even going to ask for more details of the job. She was, after all, an eager volunteer to the cause; she was in this because of some passion for what the Resistance was doing, or that was all they needed to know, “we’re making a stop at Takodana when this mission is over and you’re buying me a meal since you just ate my sandwich.”

It was more than fair, although Poe probably didn’t have many credits to his name.

Volunteers, after all. “I’m tired of eating D’qar’s food. I want something else.” This was the same thing, almost every day, with not enough variety shipped in to actually satisfy her. Not that the Order had been any better – she would admit, the Resistance at least had real food, and not nutritional pastes or shakes. The Order really needed to adopt real food availability for more people.

She doubted he’d argue though.

He apparently needed her…and it wasn’t a bad deal, really, for something that was probably terribly dangerous, and that he was expecting more questions about the precise nature of the danger, for the encryption not to be brought back her for it to be handled safely.

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

She felt his presence before she saw him.

It was peculiar; a feeling that she’d never had around another. It wasn’t an emotion of any sort, but instead an awareness. She was simply... aware of him, perhaps more than the others. He felt it too, she felt. They shared a mutual awareness. Of what, she did not know.

A shiver ran along her spine at the sight of the troopers that enshrouded the room, though she did not fear them. Domination by terror was the entire aim of the First Order and Kenna would give them no such satisfaction. Thus, whilst the formerly arrogant souls of the cantina cowered, her shoulders arched back in brace. The First Order possessed nothing that any other person did not. Weapons could be handled by any idiot with hands to hold them, as the goon before her had kindly demonstrated. Threats could be spat from any lips with the capacity to air them, and this cantina was no stranger to the forcefulness of them.

What could the First Order do to her, that any other soul on Tatooine could not?

No, scaremongers lost their power when one realised there was nothing about them to fear. They were as mortal as the rest of them.

“And I’m the stupid one?” she hissed to Turgo, venomously. “Just remember this was your intelligent idea, when it all goes to shit”.

He didn’t have the time to respond or venture much further than a distasteful scowl. Upari drew her eyes towards the commander of the stormtroopers. Her chin held. Her gaze did not falter. Although she could not see his face, she would certainly act as though she could. Her expression would remain calm and nonchalant for as long as she could sustain it.

“The First Order, for me? What an honour,” she observed, dryly. There was no insult to her words, nothing to evoke their disdain, but it was clear from the melody of her voice that Kenna held no compassion. “I can only imagine why. I hope that these men have not wasted your time, Commander. I’m not a very exciting person”.

She pondered what exactly they did want.

How much did they know? Were they aware of her affiliation with the resistance? Did they know of her connection with Lor San Tekka? What the resistance hoped he would help with?

Her eyes ran the intricate detailing of his mask warily. Her lips remained pursed. She absolutely refused to air any more information than obliged.

“You know Lor San Tekka?”

It was a crime to know someone, now?

“Sorry, what did you say? I can’t... You know, the whole...” her index finger wavered before her face, in gesture of his mask.

It went against her nature to cautiously monitor her words. But Kenna was well aware of the severity of this situation. One wrong word and her life was over. There was a time for provocation, and this time was not now. All the same, she could not help the words that leapt childishly from her tongue. “Define know,” she retorted, her head tilted rightward.

Impatiently, Turgo grunted.

“Of course, she—”

His words remained unuttered.

For a moment, the girl watched, almost in awe, as he lifted a single hand and visibly choked the sentence from his lips. With the manner of a roguish child, a small smile tugged upon the corners of her own.

Karma was a bitch.

She wondered if there was something a little wrong with her. After all, it didn’t seem a sane thing, to relish in the pain of others. But, if she really thought about it, properly, Upari didn’t want the man to suffer— at least not much. There was simply poetic justice in his momentary struggle. How was this great plan of his working out for him now? She’d ransom not very well.

Sucking in her lips, the auburn-haired girl bit hard upon the flesh, hoping succumbing the urge to laugh aloud. It wasn’t the moment. Truly, it wasn’t. She wished that she could help it, but she couldn’t.

It wasn’t a task she had to struggle with for long. Soon, it became very apparent that the man was seconds away from death via asphyxiation. Below long and dark lashes, the humoured glint of her eyes quickly soured. Amusement vanquished entirely from her cherubic features.

“Stop,” she pled, guilt beginning to eat at her conscience. “Please stop”.

Moving slowly, her hands still raised in surrender, the girl tried to place herself between the struggling man and his assailant.

“He gets it. Point made... Stop it, you’re going to kill him”. Her eyes widened in horror. “All that he’s done is help you. Surely arrogance is not a crime punishable by death?”

'What is wrong with you? ' She didn't dare utter aloud.

“Please”.

Kenna wasn’t really sure why she pled for a man who hadn’t thought twice of her own fate. Perhaps, deep in her heart, she knew she did not need to mirror the darkness of this world.

“He’s right. At least, he isn’t lying”. Her eyes flitted between Ren and his victim. Two sculpted brows furrowed; heavy lines were chiselled into the marble of her forehead, sculpted by the careless hands of helplessness.

“The man you talk about,” her head nodded firmly, as cerulean eyes cast about the room. If there had been little hope in escaping before, it was now entirely non-existent. Shuffling, Kenna shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. Her hands slid to the bares of her upper arms, brushing the skin in a movement of self-comfort. “I’ve met him, once. I’d hardly consider that grounds for ‘knowing someone’. Whatever business he has with the First Order, I can promise it has nothing to do with me”.

Now, Kenna finally understood Lor San Tekka’s ambiguity. He had told her little to nothing, the very minimum one would need to accept a job. Perhaps, this ambiguity could save them both.

“He was looking for something, didn’t mention what. The old man was vague and cryptic. I told him that I had business to deal with first. Or rather, I did,” on cue, a sour glance was thrown across the table, before she returned her attention to the commander.

“I haven’t done anything wrong”.

~***~

Poe Dameron was no anxious man.

Each step he took with confidence and full preparation to take what may consequently follow. He owned his successes, sure, but he also owned his fallbacks. However, more and more, he was finding himself plagued by inexplicable nausea. He would think of what was to come and his chest would tighten, suffocatingly. His throat would close. His lips would dry. He would lay awake at night, unable to pry his eyes from the ceiling, and his mind from the darkness that had begun to devour the galaxy. His life, once viewed through a kaleidoscope of colours, was beginning to pale to monotonous trepidation.

Perhaps, this was simply the transitional effects of moving from boyhood to maturity. Youth was rash, careless, and free. Now, he felt the weight of the world upon his shoulders, and the duty to carry those around him. He had seen the consequences of inaction. The New Republic’s inaction to the threat of the First Order had resulted in the suffering of too many.

Not trying was never an option.

Yet, perhaps, nowadays, he was on the ball too much. It had become the entirety of his life. He liked to think it had not. He hid behind the façade of a devilish grin and a few lines of wit. But, in truth, who was he beyond this? Who might he have been if the world was not a battlefield, in which he had to play the role of strength?

Often, he sequestered these invasive thoughts in fear that they held little weight. It was probably to the detriment of his health, but an existential crisis was the last thing one needed when raging a greater war. It didn’t matter who Poe Dameron was, who he might have been and what he could have achieved.

Once, he’d believed this war to be a battle of heroes. But, more and more, he saw that this fight was much greater than that, greater than him. So, he worked, and worked, and worked, occasionally with good humour. Perhaps, that was why Leia liked him so much. At least, the others claimed she did. Maybe, just maybe, she recognised a part of herself in him.

He’d once thought of Leia as an icon. He’d envied her, maybe even wanted to be her. Now, he understood. General Organa did not fight this fight for the fame or the fortune. She fought this fight because it had to be fought. She did what she could, not to convey her beauty but to salvage what beauty she could. No longer did he envy her. Instead, Poe admired her. And whilst he was not entirely in her mindset of selflessness— still occasionally relishing a little much in the popularity he’d accumulated here— Poe hoped that someday it would be possible.

“Fine, but on one condition... we’re making a stop at Takodana when this mission is over and you’re buying me a meal since you just ate my sandwich.”

A low chuckle thrummed between his lips, a sweet buzz upon his throat. “Takodana?” He echoed, instinctively; his ignorance accentuated by the bewilderment of his syntax. “I’m sure. That’s all it is. You’re tired of the food,” he returned, a smirk perched upon the cushion of his lips. “Though, sweet as the topic of whether or not you mean a date-that’s-not-a-date may be, I’d love to steal you for a moment. If you’ve got it. There’s a few things you should see for yourself”.

In truth, there were plenty of times that Parsi could investigate the encryptions they’d discovered. Though he would never admit, Poe simply wanted to be there. Not that he suspected there was something off with her. He did not. Of course, he knew that the chances of espionage were high and that it could be anyone. Both sides had their weapons.

After all, what was a war if not a more complicated version of Dejarik?

But, for now, they had yet to unveil even a hint of a threat. The First Order’s spy, if he or she even existed, remained as mythological as the beasts upon the game board.

No, instead, Poe wanted to read her because he wanted to get a grasp of the person he would be working with. He wasn’t particular, not really. In fact, he liked to think that he got on well with most people. But it wasn’t every day that a fresh face was recruited to the team. He wanted to know Parsi a little more. Shallowly, he was honest enough to admit, at least to himself, the face made it all the more exciting.

“I know that technically you’re not on the clock anymore. But when the galaxy is a ticking bomb, time feels like less of a right and more... of a privilege,” the pilot uttered his thoughts aloud, before extending her a sincere glance. His sympathies were honest, but they both knew he’d judge her enthusiasm on her response.

His forgotten friend whirled around his ankles, a symphony of tones bouncing within the air. A glimpse to BB-8, Poe shook his head, ‘not now’.

“What do you say? Can I steal you for a half hour?”

Poe loved the resistance. He did. Throughout his time here, he’d grown to see the people here as a form of extended family. But, like with most families, faces begin to fit like furniture. Chatter almost always consisted of small talk, regarding the debilitating heat or endless streams of tasks. Nobody ever talked much of life before the cause, or what they hoped for life beyond it. Those that did, he knew their stories like the back of his hand. Parsi was a complete and utter blank page, and it intrigued him.

 

[Lucyfer]

The woman before him was familiar in the worst of ways. Not that Kylo Ren knew her personally, but he knew her type. It was in that ridiculous answer she gave while suggesting a bad connection. It didn’t phase him; he’d heard similar retorts from flyboys and smugglers across the galaxy, thinking they’d be the first, the cleverest, to deliver such a line to him. As if he hadn’t heard them before he went by this name, from another who tried his foolish luck with those far stronger than him, and far more intimidating than him.

It at least it made finding the anger to strangle the gang member easy, as he waited for Kenna to elaborate on her knowing of Lor San Tekka.

There was little anyone could do to stop him, and it seemed his friend was at least aware enough not to try anything. Kenna was another story altogether, the woman not laughing, or scorning them openly, but pleading for the life of someone who didn’t care whether she lived or died. She even thought to move and put herself between them, as if it would stop it.

He also heard those Force-laced words. It was easy for one such as him to shake off the persuasive command, but he took note that she did seem to know what she was doing, or was at least capable of using the Force in a controlled fashion, even if it wasn’t going to help her here. As she claimed the man wasn’t lying, he released the other’s throat and let him collapse to the ground behind her, before silently lowering his hand and waiting for her to continue proving how KanjiKlub hadn’t lied.

“You’re right. It has nothing to do with you, but we need to find him, and I know how he operates by now,” Kylo Ren stated, “He was here for a short while, looking for something, or someone, and he found you.” Kylo made a casual gesture to her, “which means he contacted you to find something for him, and bring it to him, so you know where to meet him next. You’ll be showing us the way to him.”

It wasn’t a question.

Obviously.

“So long as you cooperate, as soon as we find Lor San Tekka, you can go your own way.” He wasn’t actually sure about that, but he figured it was best to convince her it was in her best interest to cooperate. Perhaps she might feel terrible for it, given how she pled for the life of this man, but she would get over it.

Or die doing something stupid she associated with bravery. “Come.”

“Our—our payment?” The other member of the gang asked, and Kylo tilted his head a bit.

He supposed he did have to pay them. Even if he didn’t want to. Something about keeping allies and making fewer enemies. “Phasma will bring it shortly,” he hadn’t brought the credits in with him. That was just stupid.

~***~

Alexandria gave an audible groan as Poe assumed she was asking for a date, and paired it with a roll of her eyes. No, that hadn’t been her intention at all. He really did have an ego, didn’t he? ‘What flyboy doesn’t?’ Even the TIE fighters back home had egos the size of a Death Star, and there was little to dissuade them except a sharp kick where it hurt.

Well, she wouldn’t be kicking Poe.

He wasn’t being an asshole about it, and she kept a smirk on her lips as he continued.

“You say on the clock as if I ever get paid for anything I do around here,” Alexandria said as she shook her head, rising from where she was sitting and picking her salad bowl off the tray to take along with her. She could at least continue eating that. Though, then, she reached back down to grab the tray so she could carry it to a place to get cleaned up before leaving the mess hall.

“If I’m due payment, I’d like to know who to speak with.”

She gave a gesture back with her head, signaling her first direction, and first stop, as it was the conveyor belt that would take her tray away to get cleaned up, “You can steal me for half an hour, but then I want some answers of what’s going on and what you actually need me for,” assuming she didn’t get those answers while Poe saw her at work. She would step over the bench she’d been sitting at, to return the tray first, before she’d allow Poe to lead her out of the mess hall and on towards wherever he had to take her to get down to business.

“And just so you know, we can take my meal from Takodana to go, flyboy. I don’t need anyone getting the wrong idea about me.” It was a light tease, more a poke at his ego, really. Of course, she really didn’t need her father to catch any rumors about how close she may or may not be to anyone in the Rebellion. It wasn’t expressly forbidden to use what charms she had, but she knew how that tended to lead towards emotional attachments, and that led to problems.

She wouldn’t claim she was immune.

She already knew she wasn’t since time away had her questioning how the Order did things, and how they could improve, based on Resistance complaints.

She knew she shouldn’t give in to their talks. They were the reason the galaxy was the way it was right now – a complete and utter shithole that only supported and favored the elite Core.

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

When it came to Kylo Ren, he asked for nothing. Requests seemed entirely foreign to his lips. It was strange to think that others might hold authority above him. He seemed to wield power in a godlike demeanour. A single utter of “let there be light” and she believed he could immediately conjure it so. For, he wielded the world around them without even the slightest touch. His hands could end a life without ever contacting the body he harmed. It was as though he manipulated existence itself. Kenna had formerly proclaimed herself entirely defunct of fear in face of the First Order and she was wrong. To not fear such power would not be bravery, but sheer stupidity.

As he released Turgo, a pang of regret sunk within her gut. Her former words had been vacuous and reckless. They’d endangered herself and everyone within the room. Many of them were no good. There was no denying that. Yet, this did not undermine their right to life. Some people in here were simply born to the wrong circumstances. Few just wanted to provide for their families. A good proportion of them, like the KanjiKlub members, may not particularly care for others. She had no reason to mind much for them either, but she did.

“Collateral damage,” Upari affirmed Ren’s words of her involvement. A slight wince afflicted her gentle features.

What a sad way to go.

Like many people, Kenna Upari had thought a lot about her death. After all, it was one of the few certainties in life. She’d always figured she’d die in a shootout, or at least fighting in some manner. The fight for survival had been the best part of her life. Here she was, going silently and irrelevantly. The reason was not even of her own making.

She supposed she should have known. In her arrogance, she had allowed Lor San Tekka an audience. Had she thought about the potential fallout? Absolutely not. Her mind had been solely set on the reaction of Han, informing him like a proud child might after a long day of schooling. So, arrogance would be her downfall then. At least, it was true to herself. Wasn’t it? She wasn’t sure. For the past five years, she’d built herself up, bit by bit, in the presence of Solo. He carried himself with such certainty and such confidence. Han always seemed so carefree, so liberated. She wanted to be him, be like him. So, she listened to what he said— his half-witted remarks and sark filled observations— and, in essence, she copied him. There wasn’t much to it, she supposed. A psychoanalysis might say she was clutching tight onto the only security she’d ever had.

A little pathetic, really.

“If I told you where he was, presuming that I even actually knew, my uses expire,” the girl observed, with relative nonchalance. With little choice, she followed him all the same. “Forgive me. I’m not entirely sure how enticing it is to be forthcoming. Much as you might think, I’m not entirely without brains... at least for now”.

Kylo Ren seemed as likely to give answers as he would give requests. This knowledge didn’t dissuade her from asking all the same. “What will you do with him,” she asked, after a moment’s contemplation, “if you find him?”

Upari pondered how he figured she’d ever succumb to their demands. If she didn’t, she died. If she did, they potentially both died. It was only human to want to survive, but any kind of wisdom spoke against cooperation. That was, unless survival was wholly guaranteed. Still, it was difficult to ascertain this. In fact, it was entirely unclear if he paid her any attention at all. The mask he bore kept her completely shut out. Though, she pondered if it was possible to use the awareness to navigate his thoughts and emotions.

~***~

“You say on the clock as if I ever get paid for anything I do around here. If I’m due payment, I’d like to know who to speak with”.

There was no forceful banter or assured theatrics on Poe’s behalf. A natural response to her words, a humoured huff of air blew through his lips. She was right. The resistance was hard work, all grind and no pay. At least, there was no literal pay-off, but there was a lot to be found in helping others. The pay-off, he supposed, was the chance to make the world a better place. These words were sealed within though. His lips pursed tight after considering them curiously. There was such thing as too boy-scout.

As she nodded towards the conveyor, Poe rose to follow near, lifting his weight with both palms upon the table. “You’re assuming I have answers to give,” he retorted, as matter of factly. “I thought your job was to be the wise one,” a gentle smile pulled upon his lips. His childish gleam, ever glowing, twinkled within brown eyes like a starry night. Joking aside, Poe tilted his head, first left, then right, as he weighted her words in his mind. “Presuming you can decrypt the signal omitted from whatever this thing is,” he answered her, sincerely, “it could potentially mean locating and evaluating. A field mission. If there’s a chance this thing could be a threat, General Organa will want to know”. Inhaling sharply, the pilot rolled his shoulders back. “But, that kind of clearance remains out of my hands. Don’t go holding me to anything”.

Another threat was the last thing they needed. There’d been much talk about quintessence recently, a lot of science beyond his current comprehension. Leia feared the worst. The First Order began to mirror the Empire more and more each passing day.

How much longer was it until the galaxy saw the annihilation of further systems?

Poe figured, 'not long'.

Yet, he was dammed for solutions. Much alike everyone else, he was left scratching his head on what he could possibly do. At least, in this circumstance, there was potentially something. So, sick of biting his nails, he momentarily relished in the hope that this threat was real. Perhaps, then he could actually be of use, rather than sitting around waiting for trouble to unfold. The hope was fleeting and almost immediately drowned in a cesspool of guilt; sometimes, it wasn’t a bad thing to be useless. It meant the desperation and need for the uses were simply not there. Sometimes, being useless meant peace.

Once Parsi had cleared, the pilot began to lead the way. Although, he was conscious of not setting foot too far ahead. “Flyboy?” He echoed, humour tickling his features. “We have nicknames already. That’s cute”. He was more than happy to bounce back with a tease of his own, enjoying the carefree dynamics of good humour. “I’ll have to have a think on yours. Mine will have a bit more originality. No hate. We can’t all be geniuses, I suppose”. Turning promptly, Poe glimpsed for her response. A genuine smile nestled comfortably on his lips.

“That said, I reckon I’d have to know a good deal more about you than the stuff on your file, Parsi. Tell me. What’s your story?”

 

[Lucyfer]

It was visibly sinking in to Kenna that her situation was not a good one. Kylo had started to turn away, expecting she would follow, but paused halfway as she seemed to wonder what good it gave her to play along. Though she wouldn’t see his narrowed eyes, his posture had visibly stiffened at her questioning tone while they remained in the cantina. While Stormtroopers continued to hold position, and KanjiKlub tried to get their bearings again.

She started to walk then, to follow, and he resumed leading, listening to her rattle on about her expected demise for helping. “I don’t need your cooperation to gather the information that I need from you.” Kylo stated plainly, the modulator no doubt adding to how threatening it sounded. It was meant to, of course.

He likely should have had her put in binders, but she seemed to be cooperating for now, and as he passed Phasma, he gave her a nod, “Pay them,” he instructed, and she moved from her position to do as instructed. There were still plenty of Stormtroopers along the walk back towards the command shuttle.

“What happens to Lor San Tekka is of no concern to you,” he added, “he has information that I need.” Though he couldn’t say that if Lor San Tekka cooperated, he would be spared. Kylo felt that he should kill him, for his ties to the Jedi, for his ties to Luke, and for so much more. He was a part of Kylo’s past as Ben. He should die, just for that reason alone. The fewer people who knew who he had been, the better.

“If you choose not to help, your death is certain,” he added, as if that would convince her to play along, “if you assist, it is not. We will investigate the lead that you give.” So if it was a false lead, she would suffer, dearly, for that. He wasn’t going to be letting her go just for cooperating. She was coming along all the way to where Lor San Tekka was, or until she became too uncooperative.

It was rare to find someone who had interactions with him, “So? Where is he?” He asked it as they reached the shuttle, but he did not follow all the way up into it. If she was going to be a problem, it’d be better to have her bound before she got into any ship.

~***~

‘Yes, I am.’ There was a reason they wanted this particular thing looked at now, and why it stood out from all the others. Poe might not actually know what that was, though. She supposed it wasn’t his job to know those things, and it would be her job to determine if their worry was warranted. It seemed she was being threatened with a field mission, though, and her nose scrunched up.

Not ideal.

She preferred to stay out of blaster range of the Order. It would be a bit too awkward to have to fire on them, never mind giving up information on where to find them sometimes and putting her people in danger in the first place. Actively shooting at them would be different.

“I won’t,” she said, agreeing not to hold him to anything as they stepped out into the open air of D’qar which, Alexandria agreed, was too hot to bear on most days. She’d rather be back in a cooled starship. Or at least a colder climate. Maybe rainier. She heard Arkanis was nice, so far as that went.

Not that she’d been there.

This time she didn’t groan at Poe’s declaration of a nickname. She tried to frown, but couldn’t quite keep the smile down at his exasperating cheer and need to play along with this. Damn his ego. Yet it was the contagious sort, not the truly aggravating, at least. Not like the powerplays back in the Order.

“Mmm, I suppose I should think of something I don’t call 30 other people, shouldn’t I?” She teased back a little, but she wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon. She shrugged at his question, “Came from Castell, knew what the Empire was capable of. I was trying to advise our senator before I gave that up to join the Resistance. I figured I could do more good here then I could advising someone who was already so opposed to working with anyone who thought even slightly different.”

They were in the pocket of the Order now, but Poe didn’t need to know that. “That satisfactory enough for you, or do you also want to ask whether or not I have anyone waiting for me back home?”

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

Throughout the galaxy, those who alleged an uncanny parallelism between the Empire and the First Order were not a minority.

A time far before her own, Kenna-Upari had very little experience to compare to. Yet, she’d heard the stories of Vader. She knew of his powers and his tyranny. Who didn’t? Nowadays, though, these stories were little beyond nightmarish tales, sputtered across cantina drinks and cindering campfires. Of course, she had travelled well with Han Solo, a venerated war hero, but she’d learnt quite little there;Han was not prone to speaking of perilous times, and even less about those that followed. Once, he had confided that he felt that wars never ended. They simply changed form. People were creatures of habit. They always found a new enemy. Alike many others, he was not prepared to take up arms against the new rising threat. instead, he'd look the other way. There always seemed to be a great deal of pain weighted in his reflections and Kenna suspected he’d suffered a great loss following Yavin.

In that, he was not alone.

Kyraelia had once taught her daughter an important lesson. Although, Kenna thought very little of it at the time. Children can carry very little self-awareness, like alone a deeper comprehension of the world around. Still, her mother had taught her about corruption. This was not the exact word she had used, but rather what Upari later understood it to mean. The lesson was simple: When one places rotten food in a bowl of the ripe, it is quick to sour the rest.

Infection spreads, quickly and uncontrollably. Yet, even when the heart of the rot is cut, there is still detrimental damage to what remains. Cut off an infected limb, such as a leg, and the body shall lament the loss— even if it was a great source of pain. The removal of the toxic component destabilised the balance of the whole. In nature, at least amongst most species, these limbs did not regenerate. Once gone, one simply had to adapt to their loss and reacclimatise to the world around. Nowadays, however, technology spanned to the intricacy of replacing features so complex. Lost limbs were replaced with almost identical replicas. In such sense, the First Order was a political prosthetic.

Just because one could do something did not mean that they should.

This wisdom was not Kyraelia’s, but one of the few things that Kenna had learnt via experience. The girl was fortunate. Sometimes, she possessed an unnatural amount of luck. When she was younger, she’d taken advantage of this to gamble. In hindsight, the overuse was foolish. It gained her enemies and a poor reputation. At the time, she was simply utilising the abilities and power that life had given her. Much could be said, she believed, of the First Order. The loss of the Empire had crippling galactic effects. Warlords usurped. Civil wars erupted. Anarchy and chaos reigned gleefully on the former throne of tyranny. The New Republic tried to tame this beast. Yet, like the legendary hydra, cut off a head and another three grown in its place. Thus, from the ashes of the Empire’s control arose the ominous First Order.

“Torture? That's not a cliché. I hope you refer to something a little more exciting,” Kenna returned, with a mindless shrug. Her words tasted like new-born regret; the sip of a drink one knew they’d regret in the morning. So far, his wrath has extended to most around him. She’d escaped relatively unscathed. In fact, he had not even bound her, which could only mean two things. He’d figured she possessed some braincells and understood the gravity of her situation. Or, he deemed her too weak to be a feasible threat. The first was a backhanded compliment and the latter a blatant insult. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. In fact, she was not sure what to make of him. Much like the similarities of their two organisations, Ren shared striking similarities to what she’d heard of Vader. Yet, he wasn’t wholly the monster a child expected to find beneath their bed, lest not yet. “I heard that the Empire had mind flayers,” she remarked, passingly. Not for the first time, she regretted her inability to read his face for a response.

Of course, the conversation had naturally deflected to business again, and she pondered if Kylo Ren possessed any kind of personality beneath that mask. Did he have no interests beyond work? No sense of humour? These questions bounced eagerly about her mind. Yet, her lips pursed together, tight, and her teeth implanted firmly upon her tongue. It was a momentary destabilisation of an inevitable time bomb.

What a boring imprisonment this would be.

Of course, his question referred to Lor San Tekka again. It was on the tip of the tongue to dryly remark on giving her a moment to check her mystical tracker.

Thank existence her mouth remained shut.

Instead, her tongue ran the length of her lower lip, as though to taste the right words to say there. She found nothing. “I don’t exactly know,” Kenna admitted, the frown lines on her forehead deepening. “Not yet. He was cryptic to say the least. It was hard to—”

The button of her nose scrunched. Overwrought by nausea, a soothing hand moved to her stomach. Her chest tightened. From where she stood, her tidal eyes washed upon their vicinity. She held a safe distance. Close enough to keep a low conversation, but far enough to suppress her fear.

“You hate him... Don’t you?”

Her voice was barely audible, conscious of prying ears. There was a softness to it, without pity. One could not pity Kylo Ren, Kenna was almost certain. He held the demeanour of a relentless animal; the King of the Jungle in every room he entered. He was a man to fight or fear. Never pity. Yet, the feeling she felt was so pure. Fictional or not, she couldn’t determine. Perhaps it was just a hunch, but Kenna could empathise with the rawness of the emotion. “The hatred,” She whispered. “It’s...” It was a word she did not dare utter aloud.

Suffocating.

His mask hid him well, but his emotions poisoned something within the air. She could see him, she believed. Mask or not. Finding Lor San Tekka was more than a simple mission. She believed.

It felt personal.

~***~

So far, Poe was quite taken with his new colleague. The two of them got along fine enough, at least he felt. She was easy on the eyes too. This was definitely not a strict criterion of recruitment. However, he did wonder if he was rosy along his cheekbones, and whether or not he could resign it to the prickly climate.

Either way, their journey felt quick. It was far from over, but he’d been a little oblivious to some of their environment, caught in the rush of their playful dynamic. Despite her wintry façade, he believed that she was at ease too. Struggling to suppress a smile, softness blossomed upon her plom petal lips. It was as equally rejuvenating as spring. “Now, don’t go teasing,” Poe replied, brazenly, at her taunt of a nickname. “That would require thought. You wouldn’t want me to know you think of me. Would you?” He toyed playfully, taking the next turn. Though his eyes kept to the path ahead, his attention did not sway from her words. After all, he did not ask these questions passingly. He wanted to know, and he cared for her response. At the mention of Castell, however, his eyes grew to her face. They softened sympathetically. “The Burning Moff’s playground,” he noted. “I’ve heard about Moff Ssaria”.

The Fiend of Castell was another derivation of the names Ssaria found. Notoriously brutal, she held a deadly reputation for being harsh in her response to any slight challenge to the Emperor’s authority. Many legends circulated about the time of the Empire. Poe was too young to verify whether or not there was any weight of truth in them. Yet, the stories claimed that Moff Ssaria proclaimed herself an ‘extension of the emperor’s will’ and that the emperor was the mind and she the mere tool. She felt no responsibility for her actions because, after all, a tool was not responsible if it was utilised to kill and maim. Of course, any idiot with the brain cells to think might’ve thought, ‘hang on, a damn minute, this is a human woman with the conscious level to comprehend the consequences’. Poe certainly did. When he couldn’t sleep at night, his eyes glued to the ceiling whites, he often pondered on why people took the path they did. What made him different to some of the commanders in the First Order? At what point, did their lives deviate?

For a moment, he paused, allowing his gaze to run along the lines of her face. “I’m sorry to hear it,” the words held a tenderness devoid to his usual chirp. “I know Castell suffered beneath the Empire. I’m sure you weren’t unaffected”. He pondered what remained for Zenda back home. A lot of people here had lost everything. The resistance was all that they had. Was she one of them? “If you ever need to talk...” Poe began, with a sincere nod; she knew where he was. Hoping not to dampen her spirits too much, Dameron gave an assuring smile. “I’ve heard writing a diary helps,” he concluded, playfully. “Maybe, you can write your about undying love for me there too. Or, you could always talk to Threepio. He appreciates a good love story”. The little droid beside him knocked against his ankles with a disapproving symphony of tones. Poe rolled his eyes. “What?” He peered down to his friend. “She knows I’m joking. Mostly”.

If her question of her sweetheart at home was supposed to make him feel awkward for probing, it didn’t work. To her sharp words, Dameron rolled his shoulders. “They can wait all they like. I hope for their sake they’re not holding their breath. No offence. You don’t come off as the sentimental kind”. BB-8’s head drooped, as did his tones. Though Poe was curious who exactly she had left behind, he was mindful not to inadvertently hurt her. “Hey. I’m just curious!" His hands raised in mock surrender. "Consider it a professional interview. It’s not every day you get a mechanic who can encrypt,” he explained, then added, “but don’t let that get to your head. We’re going to need it to squeeze through that door up ahead. It could already be a tight fit”. A disarming smile was cast her direction, as Poe gestured to their nearby destination with a nod. “Seriously, though. Where’d ‘you learn?”

 

[Lucyfer]

‘I never said torture.’ Although Kylo would not deny that his methods hurt. They were a violation. He wasn’t asking nicely when he pushed through the barriers of someone’s mind, and people rarely knew how to simply open their mind to him. He wouldn’t comment on that, however, nor on having anything more interesting. It was not the prisoner who deserved such information, if she sought to truly become a prisoner.

She’d find out the hard way then, that he was not the Empire.

He stared her down through his helmet as she seemed to think, licking her lips in some effort to stall, no doubt. He could see her mind working on it, and trying to hedge against giving him something useful. Of course, that spiked his emotions, his hatred, not just at Lor San Tekka, but also at her, in the moment, for denying him what he sought. She either knew how to get to him, or she didn’t.

And if she didn’t, then she was useless to him.

His fists clenched at his side, but before he could issue an order to have her bound and dragged on the ship, but then she had to have a sick reaction. She didn’t double over, but nearly so, and the sudden agony she felt was obvious. He couldn’t find it in himself to be worried, just agitated, and wondering if this was some game she was playing to try and get freedom, or stopped from talking, until she asked about his feelings towards Lor San Tekka.

Hate was not a strong word, in this case.

Hate was an emotion rarely felt in others; Kylo Ren knew this, as someone who often probed the emotional environment around him. Feeling it as strongly as he did, could be debilitating…but this was what he lived with. “Yes.” He ground the answer out, even if he felt no reason to tell her, “And he well deserves it. He’s not the weak, doting old man you may think he is,” he stepped forward then, and would reach to grab her arm and wrap his hand around her wrist, encased by a glove. There could be no warmth here, even if the sun and heat of the desert had artificially warmed the attire.

Her softness in asking was not what he desired, and he responded in the only way he knew how towards it: lashing against it, not wanting to feel hints of softness, of pity, of anything that might hint at him being weak in the eyes of another. “You either know how to find Lor San Tekka, or you do not,” he said, not backing down from the mission of this, “Cryptic, or not, you’re smart enough to understand what he said, or you can at least remember what he said to you and I can figure it out.”

No, he wasn’t letting go of that.

Wasn’t allowing for the shift in subject, as he bit down onto the topic like a vornskr with fresh meat.

~***~

The Flyboy definitely lived up to his reputation as stupidly charming, with just enough arrogance sprinkled in. Alexandria wouldn’t allow it to distract her, but she couldn’t help but enjoy it. That wasn’t wrong, right? She had to find some enjoyment to all of this. Of course, she couldn’t hold a smile as he talked about the Moff of Castell, who had indeed been something of a nightmare, even by Empire standards. Any smile that had been on her face, faltered at the title that was given over.

It was an easy Moff to hate.

And thus an easy one to keep her identity intact, because she didn’t really need to feign it. It didn’t stop her from shaking her head at Poe’s sympathetic offer, noting, “I wasn’t alive for her reign, just the after effects,” the rebuilding process. There was no need to need someone to talk to, or encourage that sort of offer.

Of course, he turned it back to teasing soon enough, an incorrigible flirt. “I agree,” she said to the droid, as BB-8 seemed to beep out disapprovals. At least the droid knew what his master was, and she did indeed know Poe was joking. She’d been baiting him into it, after all. She wasn’t upset that he played along so well. She’d been bereft of proper banter for far too long. With Terex absent, the rest of the agents were just so…boring.

“I’m actually a cryptologist who can work on ships, Dameron,” she clarified. Mechanics was secondary, just what she had to do to help the base along, and she had enough basic skills from working on starships back with the Order. Everyone needed to know these kinds of basic things, especially if she wanted to own her own starship – which she did, but she couldn’t have that here, obviously.

“There was plenty of technology left behind on Castell by the Empire, lots of crashed starships no one did anything with but scavenge, and old droids that needed repairs. I’d bring home junk, and my parents let me work on it. It was at least an educational hobby, but I had to learn a lot on the fly,” there weren’t exactly any proper teachers.

They had reached the door, and she let Poe step through with an exaggerated gesture, “It was lucky I already liked numbers and languages. Figuring out how they went together wasn’t too hard, once you figured out the code of the language. And then when I found out this was a legitimate career?” She laughed, following Poe in, “Well, I made it my major in the academy. Had to learn a lot of languages and mathematical theories, but it wasn’t too bad.”

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

Kenna was surprised he gave her any answer at all. As abrupt as they were, his breadcrumb words were still a small trail to knowing him more. It seemed like Kylo understood this too. For, as soon as he had spoken, his hand had reached to grasp her. She didn’t move. Either frozen by fear or stubbornness, she could not distinguish. Her eyes kept locked upon him. He was so expressive, she noted, even if one could not read his face. It was in how he strode, how he moved, the passion and agitation of his actions. Clearly, he had some problems processing his inner emotions. Luckily enough for her, she’d quite the experience working with a man-child.

No, she had decided at last. She wasn’t afraid of him in this moment. His movement was cold and elicited to evoke fear, she had no doubt. Yet, if he wanted to hurt her, he could have. There was nothing stopping him from hurting her, without even being near. He’d demonstrated that himself, first-hand. Thus, though his grasp was tight, it held little to no intimidation. “You don’t need to grab me,” her eyes flitted to her arm, before settling again. Had it been anyone else, she might’ve remarked on taking her for dinner first. She absolutely did not. “What am I going to do? Run? Where do you figure I would go, the desert? Or, am I going to fight an entire squadron, including yourself, entirely unarmed?” A single brow lifted. Suppressed laughter ticked her throat. “I am not a threat to you. I’m not your enemy. Believe it or not, there are some people who do not persistently hold malicious intentions. They just want to exist”.

The girl held herself, firm. “What did he do to you?” She continued to press defiantly. “Why do you dislike him so much?”

There were definitely greater enemies to the control of the First Order. Whether Lor San Tekka was just an old man or not, she struggled to understand what he could have possibly done to warrant the pure distaste.

Kenna struggled to swallow as she measured Ren’s growing disdain. Her weight shifted from her left foot to her right. Pulling back her wrist, she defensively trailed the fingers of her other hand around it. “Good luck with that,” she scoffed to herself, knowing he’d be wholly unable to without her assistance. “He claimed I would find him in a place I knew well,” Upari stated, with a hum that silently conveyed her ‘I told you so’. “As someone who... transports goods, you can now see where that becomes potentially problematic. I don’t know where I was born,” she informed him, “but I was raised on Lah’mu. Since I’m assuming that was the origin of whatever he sought, you can safely presume that he’s not there”.

For a moment, her mind cast back to one of the only places that had ever extended sliver of home. The child who’d lived there had despised it, looking to the stars to envision adventure. Now that the chaos had found her, Kenna wanted nothing more than peace and serenity her childhood once possessed. “He could be anywhere in the galaxy”. She had a creeping suspicion that she knew. Deep down, she hoped it wasn’t so. Kenna-Upari had spent best part of 10 years on Jakku alone. Was it possible that he knew her from there? She believed so. “He said, the planet was a graveyard for the past. Apparently, it’s full of the ghosts of yesteryear”. There was an Abednedo she was supposed to meet in the Cantina. She did not mention him yet. If there was even a chance that she could limit the collateral damage of her contribution, she was certainly going to try

~***~

“That’s actually kind of sweet,” Poe replied sincerely, as they stood before the door. The facts, as Poe understood them, was that they lived in a galaxy of conspicuous consumption. Everyone wanted something new, something flashy or popular, the latest tech. Although, they were far more common amongst the Resistance, it was increasingly growing harder to find a person who preferred to fix what was broken. Poe Dameron was of the strong opinion that some things in life simply could not be replaced. For example, should anything happen to his old buddy, BB-8... well, Poe wouldn’t know what to do with himself. “Be careful, Parsi,” he added, as he tinkered with the keypad to input the security code, “or I might think that you have a heart, after all”.

The door slid aside, revealing the meeting room. Currently, other than a few other souls recruited to the case, it was rather empty. “I’m surprised you never considered keeping one of the droids you fixed,” the pilot added, leading the way as she bid. He cast a nod of acknowledgment to Abednedo that waved at him, their other cryptologist on the case. “I don’t know what I’d do without this little guy,” he concluded, his attention returned to Parsi. He stood, at last, face-to-face before her. For a moment, he held her gaze, noting that her eyes reminded him of the skies of his home. To his words, BB-8 gave a whirl of delight, which broke his train of thought. Releasing an abated breath, Dameron turned to face the table beside them.

“Zenda Parsi, this is Entor Kee. He’s about as old as some of the relics on this planet, but at least has accumulated some wisdom in the years,” Poe cast an amused glance to his friend. “He’s the reason that you’re here. The old soul requested that we recruit someone a little younger to help his old brain along”. A spur of white gleamed, as the pilot grinned in a childish jeer. “You might have to be a little louder when introduce yourself,” he feigned pretence of whispering, but actually did so for the ears of both cryptologists. “He’s a little hard of hearing”.

“I can hear you just fine,” Entor rolled his eyes, with a batt of his hand, as though he were swatting away a pesky fly. The Abednedo gave a nod of acknowledgment to the girl. “I just choose to ignore him, at times; It’s better for the health,” he explained, as matter of factly. “I am sure you do not need to be told this”. With his attention returned to the table before them, Kee began to run his fingers about the keypad that ran the edges. A holograph erupted before them; a map of the galaxy as they knew it. “As nice as pleasantries always are, I’ve been asked by General Organa for an overview by dusk. So, I’ll get straight to the point”.

Sliding his finger along the pad, the Abednedo zoomed into the image. “What you see before you, you probably recognise, it is the Outer Rim. I’ve been reading around for frequencies, trying to intercept anything that I feel might be important. There’s been a particular frequency that has been badgering for a while. At first, I thought it might be interference from the First Order, or some kind of poor connection from the atmospheric components of D’Qar”. He shook his head. “But, then, I noticed… Here...” with a push of a few buttons, the sound burst into the air around them. “Listen to this. Tell me what you make of this yourself…”

 

[Lucyfer]

It seemed that Kenna imagined herself in a position to be defiant, as she pulled out of his grip and asked her own set of questions, offering little information. He knew it was there. He knew where it was, in her head. He was growing increasingly irritated with her, and though he knew he wouldn’t enjoy trying to rip the information from a Force Sensitive, he had a sinking feeling that was what he was going to have to do. It was riskier to do that, particularly if she knew what she was, and how to fight against it. He didn’t know what kind of training she had, if any.

He didn’t know much at all, except that she wanted to be a pain and hinder his progress by dragging it out.

He didn’t approach her again.

He did not answer her questions, either. He had let her be free. He had trusted that maybe she’d understand through the Force, through his hatred, that she should want to speak, but how often did that work? Even those padawans who knew what Luke did to him, had not chosen to follow him. They stood by Luke instead.

He should have known better than to think this girl would be any easier to work with.

He gestured to the Stormtroopers behind her. “Bind her wrists.” He ordered them, and they immediately stepped forward to do so, one reaching to catch her arms, the other reaching for the binder they held at their hip to slip her held arms into them. He noted the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye, and understood Phasma would be back soon, as well.

He didn’t have time to argue on a desert planet with some sand rat.

“We’ll make a detour to Lah’mu,” he told the Stormtroopers. Phasma could be the one to tell General Hux, he would keep her company with him, for now. They didn’t know what awaited on Lah’mu. Kenna didn’t want them to go there, so that seemed the best place to begin, since it was a place that was dear to her, and anywhere in the galaxy could be considered a graveyard. She wasn’t wrong about that.

The Clone Wars, if nothing else, had seen to that truth.

“You can decide if you want to talk on the way there,” if not, it would be a simple hop back to the Finalizer, and to a prison cell, where she would spill her last thoughts before meeting an untimely end. Either way, he had the name of the place now, and he could begin to search there. No doubt, he’d need more information from her to narrow down where on Lah’mu, but that was to come.

She’d talk, or she wouldn’t.

And if Lah’mu held what Lor San Tekka was looking for…then maybe he didn’t even need to find the old man. That would make things significantly easier for him, too.

~***~

Alexandria really couldn’t get that half-smirk to leave her lips around Poe. Oh well, she would just have to accept it as part of dealing with him, as she walked into the room to meet the other cryptologist. She was certain they’d met before, but she didn’t really make a habit of getting to know too many people. No doubt why Poe insinuated she was heartless. Lack of social circle and all.

She greeted the alien all the same with an inclination of her head, before listening to what was going on – and then listening to the transmission as it came over the speakers.

‘That’s not First Order.’

It was her immediate thought, sudden, but immediately convincing. She understood bits and pieces of it, it was made of a language familiar to the Order, but it was not the Order. Or, if it was, they had changed things up and not provided her with the code. She didn’t see that happening, not if this had been going on for a bit, as Entor seemed to imply.

She moved closer to the console, brows knitting together in focus, “Entor, do you mind if I plug my datapad in so I can start running this through a few of the codes I have saved?”

Entor shook his head, “Not at all, not at all,” he encouraged, and she took her datapad out from a back pocket and was quick to plug it in, bringing up some of her cryptologist systems that made her life easier by comparing these things to previously saved data on codes she had “figured out” with the Resistance.

If it couldn’t draw comparisons, it helped to break it down by tonal patterns, parsing words, and comparing to any languages she had saved in the program. It made her work notably quicker, so long as the code wasn’t one that did a good job at tricking her systems.

It didn’t seem to be, although it didn’t bring up too many matches. She frowned as the diagnostic runnings started to finish up, drawing a few points of comparison to other codes. ‘Sith….’ Of course that came up as a language of comparison, as she flipped through the way words were parsed and transcribed, the tone, the beat….

“Hold on, I have to go get a book.”

“A book?” That just seemed to confuse Entor more – books were such archaic things!

“I know, I know,” she just shook her head, frustrated, but also evidently interested, “Datapads don’t like the Sith language and refuse to offer much translation of it, so that has to all be done by hand and with books.”

“Sith?!” Entor definitely heard that, but Alexandria didn’t pause to continue speaking with him, taking her datapad and walking towards the door so she could return to her quarters and grab the book.

“I’ll be right back!” That was all she offered.

Maybe there really was a reason her father found a way for her to get those books. Maybe things in the Order were changing -- or maybe they were just learning to use Sith because no one in the freaking galaxy knew Sith.

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

As he withdrew, Kenna understood that she’d hit a nerve. So, it was personal, then. And, since Lor San Tekka was not in the habit of affiliating with the First Order kind, she would ransom it had something to do with Kylo Ren’s past. This man knew him, knew something, and that discomforted Kylo. So did her growing curiosity. He’d turned away from her, finalising their conversation without a single further word. Though in no position to be vexed, she found his actions thoroughly anticlimactic. It irked her. Still, she’d managed to get this far without being physically attacked by anyone. Considering her usual day’s work, her lacking attitude and her misfortunate circumstances, she’d consider the outcome of today quite propitious.

“Real mature...” Upari grumbled beneath her breath, as the Stormtrooper approached. Could she complain? Perhaps not, it was better minor restraints than that of the permanent kind.

With a chirpy smirk, the young woman turned on her heel to face her jailer. Her two wrists extended towards him. Whilst she cared to bite her tongue around Ren, she didn’t exactly care for backlash from his mindless soldiers. “I usually wait till the second date before even consider letting someone cuff me,” she taunted them. Without a syllable uttered in response, the bind clasped around her skin. A hot wince hissed through her teeth.

“Move forward, sand rat,” lifting his blaster, he shoved it right beneath her shoulder blade, pushing her forth. Upari stumbled where she stood, but quickly caught her balance. With a roll of her eyes, she followed Ren aboard the command shuttle.

“Charming,” she grumbled, to no one in particular.

As the party moved forward, Ren approached a Stormtrooper nearby. Ears as prying as always, she listened attentively to what he had to say, if she could even catch anything at all. Though his words were hurtled away, the word Lah’mu was not hard to pique her attention. Kenna instinctively rolled her eyes. If Ren thought there was anything there that he could possibly manipulate her with, any way to intimidate her into honesty, he was going to be sorely mistaken.

There was nothing on that planet for Kenna.

There hadn’t been since the day her mother died, hence the reason she’d never returned, not even for the sake of sentimentality. “If you’re hoping to meet the parents, you’re going to be duly disappointed,” she called to him, chirpily. “The mother’s dead. Daddy dearest must’ve left for a bottle of blue milk and gotten lost, because I’ve never met him in my twenty-five years of existence”.

His subsequent words were, surprise surprise, as ominous and threatening as each predecessor. Falling into silence, the force sensitive merely blinked. No one around here had a sense of humour. Even if she did support the morals of the First Order, the torturous amount of straight lacing would be enough to send to the defence of the New Republic.

“I’m telling you the truth,” she replied, plainly.

Her pledge was honest, at least partially. She hadn’t exactly lied but rather withheld a few minor details. Her eyes pressed behind him, scanning the ship she’d boarded, far beyond any she’d ever encountered. It was beautiful. Lips slightly agape, Upari released a breath of awe. In terms of aesthetic and composure, the First Order left the Resistance for dead.

~***~

There was something cathartic and serene to watching other people concentrate; how their tongue stuck out slightly and their eyebrows furrowed beneath intrigue. A rather useless spare part, Poe Dameron stood aside, allowing the professionals room to do their thing. Though the eyes of both the abednedo and the woman clung to the task before them, Dameron’s remained wholeheartedly upon Zenda Parsi’s face. Occasionally, for a moment, they would skitter to the hologram, in search of something that he presumed incomprehensible to his amateur expertise. There, they’d find nothing to home in upon, and would instinctively move back to the comfort of their former view.

He understood her dedication and it stirred an admiration within; something amazing happened when he was within his starfighter. He would find himself glued to his chair. He would forget that he ever wanted to do anything but fly. The bustling base back at D’Qar, the inbound enemy behind, or the crowded calendar suddenly seem non-existent. When training, three or four hours could pass in a moment; he’d have no idea what time it was, because he never checked the clock. If he chose to listen and ground himself at least partially, he could hear the whirl his engine, or the soft static of his radio, but nothing usually managed to break through. It was as though he was suspended in a sensory deprivation tank, in another world altogether. The very lack of sensation was exhilarating. Poe understood her passion, and it brought a smile of fondness to his lips.

“Sith?!”

He echoed Entor, a little slow to the game, withdrawn from his thoughts. “What do you mean, Sith?”

If this was true, perhaps their situation was a lost more dismal than they’d previously assumed. And that was saying something. As the Abednedo excused the woman, Dameron approached immediately, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. “If this is Sith, we should call General Organa in, immediately. She’ll want to know”. Poe didn’t even want to think what the possible implications of this finding were. A pang of guilt twinged within his stomach. His former wish for utility wracked his mind with guilt.

Entor shook his head, no. “We should not be rash to such conclusions,” he objected, but the fear and horror was clear in the lines drew upon his forehead. “It would cause a mass panic. We must approach this with a clear mind for clarity. If it is Sith, we deal with, we are going to be needing it”.

With a sharp inhalation through his nose, Poe slumped into one of the seats about the table. A visibly shaken hand ran through his unkempt curls; Entor was right. They shouldn’t stir things prematurely. If the worst came to fruition, they’d have to tackle it with all they had at their absolute best. His hand resting at his left temple, the pilot repeatedly rubbed his fingers across his eyes.

“Where has she gone, again?” He placed his hand flat upon the table. “To get a Sith book?”

He sought to clarify, pondering if he had somehow misheard. Entor nodded, his attention half-focused on the frequency still before them. “Who just casually carries one of them around? Like, ‘one moment, let me check my book of Sithese’?”

Was this a cause for concern or just the peculiarities of an advanced cryptologist? Poe wasn’t suspicious, but it was sure as hell different to say the least.

“Can’t complain when it’s a skill we need,” Entor returned, with a roll of his shoulders, and Poe sunk bank into his chair in agreement.

He was right again.

 

[Lucyfer]

Kylo hadn’t spoken in any way to intentionally hide his statements from Kenna. He had hardly stepped far from her, the shuttle not having that kind of room to it unless he wanted to venture far into the cockpit, or to one end of it. He did wonder why the Stormtroopers didn’t take Kenna all the way to an end, just brought her in without even the decency to shove her onto the bench nearby, but he wasn’t apt to complain about it right then, just tilt her head in her direction as she complained of dead parents.

Poor little orphan girl.

She was the lucky one.

He wished he’d never known his parents. They’d done nothing good for him in all his life. His mother abandoned him to Luke, and Han, he was certain, had never actually liked him, or tried to understand him. Not to mention their endless fighting.

He waited for Phasma to step onto the ship, informing her, “We’re going to Lah’mu,” he said, “You can inform the Finalizer crew to expect further delays.”

“Should we have the Finalizer join us?” They were, after all, hovering above on Tatooine. Phasma didn’t know why they didn’t just rejoin it and go together. It would save fuel, and allow them to change out the guard. However, it wasn’t Phasma’s job to question, so she didn’t do that.

Kylo shook his head, “No. We should put a patrol on Tatooine. There’s a chance Lor San Tekka may return,” he said.

“Understood,” Phasma would relay the request, and for her part, she did at least go into the cockpit to alert the pilots to get things moving, before she would call up to the Finalizer to let them know the current situation with the captured woman and their shift to Lah’mu.

As she left the area, Kylo finally let his attention return to the mouthy woman, “If you’re being so honest, why don’t you tell us which town your mother lived in?” Kylo suggested, giving an almost casual gesture in her direction, even if through the modulation of his voice, disbelief was still evident in his tone. Oh, he didn’t doubt her on Lah’mu. He got no sense of a lie for the planet and it meaning something, and maybe she even believed Lor San Tekka wouldn’t show up there.

But if it had a tie to him that she was meant to find?

Kylo would find it first.

“What did Lor San Tekka ask you to fetch for him, that he couldn’t get on his own?”

~***~

The book was well kept in her quarters, even though they were shared. She’d kept them under her bed, and drew out the monolithic things now. How did people ever deal with hoisting books back in the old days? How did they live without datapads? Alexandria didn’t want to know, as she made the trek back with the blood-red, leather bound thing under an arm, returning to where the two were, waiting. “Hi, sorry about that,” she set the book down, and plugged the datapad back in.

“Why, exactly, do you have a Sith book?” Entor asked. Perhaps he should have asked how, but the why seemed a touch more relevant.

Alexandra opened it on her lap, “Well, droids are forbidden from translating Sith, and a lot of old Imperial codework uses some of the Sith language in it, which makes it nearly impossible for anyone who doesn’t know the code to translate,” she said, “it’s rarely much, but it’d be like…,” she pursed her lips together a moment, worked out a sentence in her head, and spoke, “I want to visit a cold planet,” except a few of the words were not in galactic standard, but instead in sy bisti, a popular trading language in Wild Space.

Also a language the Order had to know in dealing with Wild Space.

“You can figure a few of the words, but not much about the intent. If you even get far enough in the code to break a few words. Since the Order stems from the old Empire, they use a few of the same code languages, or build on the old ones.”

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

“You’ve never been to Lah’mu. Have you?”

It was guesswork via his presumption of a collective civilisation. Sitting down on the bench, her head rested back comfortably on the wall. Lah’mu. Her Home. What a strange notion. Kenna fancied that so little would have changed beneath the brickwork of the subterranean fortresses. The was no home to be found there anymore; home was people, not a place. One could dwell in the same four walls for half of their life. Yet, if they returned, when the people were gone... all they would see is what was missing.

Her former home, she believed, would be like a corpse.

Soulless.

Nevertheless, she allowed herself to think of the days in the viridescent fields. As a child, she and her mother would clamber up the hilly terrain, hand in hand. They would picnic atop and play chase, as they momentously hurtled down before nigh. Home was more than 'Lah’mu'. It was piquantly dulcet berries and the sweet-smoky scent of ripe fields. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, she could journey back to this place of security once more. Home was once laughter, hers and her mother’s, as she sprung from her and was chased with open arms... It was lying before a campfire, the heat prickling against her skin, side by side with Kyraelia. They would live amongst nature, amongst peace, and... they would look to the lights in the night sky, to discern the shapes they found amongst the stars.

Yet, it was only a figment if her conjuration, never to last longer than simple seconds.

It was never to be again.

“Lah’mu is not a social planet. People do not go there to live,” she informed Ren, allowing her lashes to part as she set her gaze to him again. “They go there to hide, to escape life”.

For a man in such a high position of authority, Kenna wondered if he knew much at all about the people he wished to rule. “We didn’t live in a town,” she shook her head. “I couldn’t give you coordinates, either. I haven’t been there since I was twelve”. Her eyebrows knit together, as she set her mind to the task of finding a place long buried in the past. “We lived about a mile or so North of the ruins of the Erso residence. I would sometimes venture there when I was a kid. It always got me in trouble. See, on Lah’mu, it is your duty to mind your own business. But, that place... it had a pull about it. It was haunting... ghostly. The kinda stuff of nightmares”. Her eyes glazed, taken not by tears but memories. She could vividly recall being reprimanded by Kyraelia.

‘This’, her mother had claimed, ‘was what happened when a lost person was found’.

Kenna’d had night terrors for weeks.

“The people there... They won’t know anything,” she told Ren, though possessed no reason to presume he had any humanity to plead to. “You don’t need to involve them. I can show you anything you need to know”. Her mother’s words haunted her. Kenna had no family to be plagued, but there were families amongst the settlers no less. “I promise”.

Whatever Lor San Tekka wanted, Kenna pondered if she was doing the right thing allowing it to fall into the hands of the First Order. Clearly, it was an item of interest, of importance. Was her own life worth the detriment that this could cause? She could not tell. Guilt weighted heavy upon her chest. “He didn’t outright tell me what it was. I’m guessing it’s something peculiar to the nature of the planet. Something out of place, that doesn’t fit in”.

If she was to gamble, Kenna would wager it had something to do with Skywalker. Had Luke left something there before he went missing? Was there a clue to be found? These questions gave her mind serenity. Perhaps, if she was to find a way to Luke, Upari could eliminate the mediating parties.

Lives could be saved.

Still, she figured she wasn’t to know of Skywalker. Not wishing to be affiliated with the Resistance, her lips remained shut. “I figured he knew that I was from there, somehow. That I would know what was… off. He was persistent about my retrieval of it. Told me that no business I had was more important than that business. You can probably figure, if I had credits for every time a customer said that, I’d be a pretty rich woman. So, I wanted to deal with KanjiKlub first. A dead person can’t exactly do business, and KanjiKlub are not the kind of people you want as your enemy”.

~***~

The resistance pilot exhaled, shoulders rolling back as the wave of Parsi’s words washed across his mind. For a moment, he weighted her justification. There was a wisdom to her words. In fact, she was proving herself more and more insightful by each passing moment. He had once heard it said that intelligence was not education or experience, but the ability to adapt, to see things that others did not. Intelligence was not memorising complex equations but foreseeing the variations of utilities where most only saw one.

Poe hoped that she was wrong, that this signal had nothing to do with the Sith nor the old ghost stories of the past. He hoped that she was mistaken within her presumptions. Yet, deep down, he felt her knowledge to be true.

To be at the forefront of this mission, at least, would mean that Dameron could ensure the team were par excellence. Parsi would be included. He had already decided. If they were to prevent the atrocities of past warfare, they could ensure the future did not fall into repetitious cycles of pure catastrophe. The dark-haired man swallowed, though it were admittedly a struggle. His eyes cast to the source, an ominous glow that radiated in the darkness of the room’s corner. His arms strapped before his chest.

“This is not something to be taken lightly, I must implore you to forgive my hesitation...” Entor broke the silence, at last, unable to pry away his eyes.

Dameron nodded in acknowledgment; he understood. Though, deep down, he felt their mutual reluctance was denial and fear, rather than sensible hesitance. “Parsi?” Her name was aired as more of a question that any kind of evoking. “What do you make of it, then? Can you figure any of the words?” Poe took a few steps forwards, cautious to mind interfering within the busy work. “I don’t know, Entor...” the button of his nose scrunched. The damp palms of his hands wiped down upon his combats. “If this frequency requires Sith translation, I’m calling the General regardless. If it’s a false alarm, it’s a false alarm. But, I gotta bad feeling about this”.

“You will do what you must do,” Entor returned, with a long inhalation.

His disagreement was clear within his eyes, but it was not his decision to make.

Poe could sense his worry; it was a denial based not on circumstantial evidence, but sheer blinding fear. “BB-8,” the pilot crouched down. The droid wheeled to beside his feet. “Send a signal to General Organa to meet us here. Tell her it’s of considerable importance”. Unravelling his spine, his feet embedded firmly into the ground. “We’ll brief the general on whatever we know when she arrives. For now, we’ll work on getting some facts together. What can we decrypt from the signal? Content? Location? Whatever you can deduce, get it down. If nothing else, we need the locate that source. Then, we can send a team into the field to investigate”.

He never thought he would say it, but he hoped whatever malevolence this was stemmed from the Order. It was better the devil you knew, after all. “Is it possible that this could be a red herring?” There had been a lot of talk of quintessence as of late. Perhaps, this was a ploy of the Order to buy themselves some time. “They throw out the reel. We mindlessly bite the bait. We get caught up. Meanwhile, they’re off and merry building the Deathstar 2.0”

The Abednedo cast a warning look towards their third-party friend, Parsi, as if to remind Poe of her presence. The information, after all, was confidential, even if much of it was speculation. The pilot shook his head. “If we’re to recruit Zenda to the team. She will be needing a full briefing anyway,” he justified. Though, he knew that Entor was right. For now, it was not his place to decide how much to tell, or not to tell, to their new recruit.

“BB-8, how are we getting on with the message to the General?” Poe deflected. A melody of elated tones song in turn. His metal arm was plugged into the system

 

[Lucyfer]

Kenna’s mind drew back. Kylo Ren did not need to look into her head to see the way the blues of her eyes grew distant, looking at something not there. He would not ask what it was she thought of; he could guess plenty by the reflective nature. Lah’mu had good memories for her, despite what had happened on the planet.

He understood that the Order would have coordinates for where Erso had lived. He could acquire that, and find a place to land. Erso was at least a familiar enough name, given what he had done within the Galactic Empire. Looking around his old home, as well as the old home of Kenna, might bring them something. And if not, there were, evidently, people to torment that would break Kenna’s will to tell them what it was they needed.

At least in reflection she certainly wasn’t shy on providing justification for her life on Lah’mu. ‘Why was your family in hiding?’ Perhaps it was merely the Force. Plenty hid that during, and after, the time of the Empire. After all, those with the Force were hunted down by the Empire, it was better that such a thing not be known.

“Ignorant people stumble on useful things all the time. Look at yourself,” Kylo pointed out to Kenna, a cruel reminder of how she deserved no part in any of this, but there she was, there by chance. “Someone may have picked up what Lor San Tekka is wanting. I do not imagine you were the only one exploring places you shouldn’t have been.” It was the nature of many to venture beyond the rules, after all, and people who were in hiding…, “People hiding, often have things worth hiding.”

Which meant, things to steal, or use as blackmail.

“However, I’ll let you lead the expedition to find whatever it is, and assuming it can be found in the Erso residence or your former one,” or near enough, “then we won’t need to involve anyone else,” Kylo allowed. He didn’t need to clarify what would happen if it couldn’t be found. She knew that. That’s why she was nearly pleading, after all, for that not to happen.

It didn’t really matter to him how Lor San Tekka knew a strange woman was from Lah’mu, or much else. It could all just be Kenna’s assumptions at that point, she was likely paranoid if she was in the line of business involving KanjiKlub, “You shouldn’t worry much about KanjiKlub as your enemy, if you choose to make one of the Order.” He added that, before asking, “What was your family doing on Lah’mu? What were they hiding?”

~***~

Alexandria opened her book, and with her datapad plugged back in, she began to work through its parsing again, flipping pages she had marked as useful in the past, and making comparative notes on a digital notepad, ignoring Entor’s commentary, and trying to tune out Poe’s commentary as it began. ‘The ramblings of a nervous man.’ Yet it was honestly distracting, and more than once she had to return to what she’d just read to try and fit it back in the narrative she was creating, while the recording continued to play.

‘Voids, I could punch you.’

She didn’t say that, of course, though her look at the book grew increasingly hostile in an effort not to glare directly at Poe. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep her tongue restrained, as well, so she didn’t tell him off for talking so damn much when she was listening to something else. “Death Star 3.0,” She wasn’t sure why she bothered to interject there, but she finally lifted her head to give everyone in the room an annoyed look, “How quickly do you change an engine out of an X-Wing, Poe?”

There was no masking the frustration, “And how well do you do it when people keep unscrewing the bolts? If you want to talk while I’m trying to translate, can you at least do it in another room?” If they wanted to stand around and watch, she didn’t care, but if they were going to talk, they really should do it elsewhere to give her time to get the code translated. It was a new code, so that was going to take work. It wouldn’t be as simple as matching up known sounds from codes they’d already figured out.

Otherwise, no doubt Entor could have done this without her.

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

He’d let her lead the traitorous expedition.

What a privilege.

Really, Kenna understood he was extending her more leeway than she had any right to. A series of expressions afflicted the porcelain of her face. Though she grimaced momentarily, and her eyebrows knit close, a slight exhalation blew lightly between her lips. “Whatever it is, I’ll find it,” she told him with certainty; there was no room for failure. Her eyes ran the length of the shuttle, settling on the abyss of the space as it shrouded them. It was always peculiar, she felt, to see the lights of so many stars. It had a habit of helping her find her humility. People had a habit of trying to escape the past. They never realised that it wasn’t possible. Time was a concept. The light of Alderaan was still visible if one knew where to look for it.

Ghosts lived amongst people, always.

“... Thank you”. Her eyes pried from the stars, turning to face the Commander. Upari was reluctant to extend him any kind of gratitude. Why should she care for a man who’d taken her captive and forced her into a difficult position? Yet, she supposed, like anyone else, he had a job to do. There was nothing preventing the entire squadron from blazing the planet, slaughtering the inhabitants and raiding their dwellings. Perhaps, it would be faster, more effective. If someone was hiding something there, Kenna might distract the Order long enough for them to flee. Ren was giving her a chance to save lives. Perhaps, he wasn’t as soulless as she would have thought.

“I don’t tend to worry about KanjiKlub, which was clearly where I went wrong, as you can see,” she nodded to the restraints on her wrists. “They’re usually an inconvenience, at best, but I can work with an inconvenience”. Once more, the back of her head rested upon the wall. A long and heavy breath drew to her lungs. “I don’t make a habit of worrying about the First Order, either,” she added. “Often, if they get their hands on you, you’re as good as dead. And, if I’m right, dead people don’t have much to fear. Either you kill me, or you don’t, that’s an inevitability. It’ll be your call, not mine”. What good would stressing do? At least, if nothing else, she’d try to die with some peace of mind.

Kylo Ren was full of questions, for a man who provided no answers. Yet, at least his next one was half interesting for herself. Kenna would be lying, if she claimed the thought never bothered her. “You’re asking me?” She scoffed. “I’d be damned if I knew. They probably just wanted a peaceful life; a chance to be no one. Lah’mu is a place of nothing in nowhere. But, it’s... a beautiful nowhere... like the edge of existence itself. Maybe, they were just tired of fighting to live. Maybe, they just wanted peace. Can you really say you’ve never hoped for that yourself? There’s not some part of you that wishes for serenity? Escape?” The girl chewed pensively upon her lower lip. “I spent twelve years of my life wanting to leave Lah’mu... After experiencing the mess of the wider worlds? I can safely say that I understand their fascination with nothing”.

~***~

Poe had a habit of rambling when he felt nervous. It wasn't often. He wasn't a very anxious man. Yet, incredibly complex situations, such as this, made him feel small and useless. In turn, he would pace about a room a little or sputter out his thoughts aloud. The last time the galaxy dealt with Sith, they’d had the Jedi to protect them.

What did they have now?

Hm?

Nothing.

That was damn well what they had. Nothing. They’d a bunch of rickety starfighters and a few nerds who knew how to code. He’d been chasing whatever links he could to Skywalker— who was, as far as they were aware, the last Jedi and their only hope. More and more, Luke began to feel like urban legend. Had General Organa not been able to affirm his existence, Poe might’ve scoffed at the concept of his existence altogether.

So, yeah, maybe he was freaking out a little bit. The real question was: why wasn’t anyone else?! Were they not experiencing the same things as him? Did they come from a different galaxy where Sith didn’t mean Sith, and they just casually read about them in their spare time? Clearly, because there was something really wrong with their grasp of this reality.

“Yeah. Thanks, Parsi. That’s real assuring,” He retorted, at her correction. As if that was supposed to make him feel any better.

Her next words seemed to hold an ulterior meaning. He wasn’t usually adept to reading into deeper crafted meanings of people’s speech. Yet, her exasperation was clear in the lines etched to her face. “Well, that depends, Zenda”. The full names were out. “If I thought a Sith was coming for me, I might go a little faster than I normally would”.

His hands raised, in defeat.

“Fine!” There wasn’t much he could contribute anyway. He supposed he’d go and find Leia, brief her on what they knew so far. Albeit, this was mostly nothing. Then, he’d bring the General about later. If the cryptologists didn’t care for his pestering, he was sure Organa could bolster them along. “Come on, BB-8. We’ll go where we are wanted,” he spoke like a child who’d been scorned.

The droid shook its’ head, a defiant spurt of tones met the air.

“What do you mean you are wanted here?” He scoffed. The audacity. “Fine, if you wanna stay with the angry woman, you can. I would’ve thought you’d want to be helpful. I needed you to project something to the General to help explain a few things”. He took a few steps towards the door. With a screech, the little bot followed. It was enough to bring a smile back to the pilot’s lips. “Entor, if you get onto anything. Give me a call. I’ll be waiting for updates”. Dameron cast a final glance to the abednedo, then to the woman. His eyes lingered on the bound, crimson book before her. The sight was enough to twist his gut.

Kee kept his eyes to the frequency before him and Parsi. The two of them entirely enraptured by their work. With a small huff, Poe’s shoulders rolled. “Goodbye to you too,” he grumbled, tapping the code into the door. At last, his eyes cast to his little friend. “Come on, buddy. Lead the way to the General. We’ll intercept her before she crashes in”.

 

[Lucyfer]

Kenna’s gratitude earned only a scoff of a reaction, but he at least didn’t deny that she should be grateful. Kylo knew he could have done things differently. He had done things differently, plenty of times, in the past. He could rationalize it all he wanted, for why he was doing it differently now, but he didn’t feel much of a need to dwell on it. So long as she was cooperative, there was no need to dwell or question. They were getting things done faster. ‘So long as she isn’t lying.’ That was the key there.

If she was lying, if Lah’mu was just a diversion, there would be hell to pay.

He also wouldn’t tell her she was wrong about death.

The dead still feared. He’d felt it, plenty of times, none closer than when he was around the debris of Alderaan, where so many lives had been cut off and tossed to the Force without warning. Death didn’t ease those emotions immediately; it had created instead something like a dark nexus in the Force, where he could feel the dark side clearer than at other locations.

Kenna didn’t need to know that.

He wasn’t trying to torture her right now, after all.

Although she did have a frustrating lack of awareness of anything important. Nothing from Lor San Tekka. Nothing from her history. Honestly, if this was a diversion, he’d give it credit for being so underwritten and ill-planned that it seemed honest. “No, I’ve never desired that,” Kylo answered her flatly, not finding the allure in the peaceful the way she did. He had never been drawn to thoughts of a peaceful life, not as Kylo, nor as Ben. No doubt he had his bloodline to blame for all of that.

He preferred adventure.

He preferred doing something, as he was doing now, trying to make the galaxy a better place. “Why did you never go back? Why did you never choose to do nothing, if you desire it?” It seemed so much simpler than working with KanjiKlub and Lor San Tekka, and if she now had a healthy respect for it, why not go back?

Probably because she was lying.

Or felt like she had unfinished business, somehow.

He supposed he’d know soon enough, assuming that wasn’t another uncertainty in her life.

~***~

“I wouldn’t mind if BB stayed,” Alexandria said, mostly for Entor as BB-8 was already rolling away to catch up with Poe. It earned at least a small bit of a smile, before the necessary silence reigned, and Alexandria was able to work in peace on the translating aspect of the code, parsing parts that were familiar enough to her, and recognizing those which weren’t.

It wasn’t quick work, but her knowledge of the Order’s coding, even beyond what she’d shared with the Resistance, helped to make it go faster, at any rate. It did also require her using the Sith language to work through it, but it still didn’t bother her. It never had, and she wasn’t going to put on a show about it.

It was just a language, for kriff’s sake!

Although, what she translated was nothing…desirable.

In fact, even she’d admit it was worrying. ‘Just something from Project Inferno. That’s it. That’s what it has to be.’ She’d been told of Droids who sent messages about the continuation of the Empire, that the Emperor lived, and this sounded like one of those messages. ‘Then why such heavy encryption?’ Well, that was a problem for later.

And she also probably couldn’t suggest she knew anything about Project Inferno.

“I think I have all I’m going to get here,” Alexandria finally said, “It’s broken up, so getting closer to the source might help, but,” she shook her head, “I’m not sure if we want to be following up on this.”

Entor was reviewing her notes, and the work taken to get there.

Work of generations is—
Error is corrected—
Revenge.
Day of the Sith.

“We’re not in charge of what gets looked into, and what doesn’t,” Entor reminded passively. “I’ll let General Organa what we have,” he rose, stretching out his back as he did so, “You ought to wait here in case they want to come review it more directly with you.”

She nodded, and would let Entor leave to go report on what was understood.

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

“Why did you never go back? Why did you never choose to do nothing, if you desire it?”

“Because it would be like living with ghosts,” she answered him plainly, unsure why she felt the need to confide anything to him at all. This information was of no use to either of them. “Sometimes, there is no going back. No matter how much we want to. You can’t change the past, and you can’t relive it either”. Her shoulders scrunched, before rolling out her dismay. “I don’t know why my life has unravelled the way it has... But it has. Here I am”.

Had her arms been unrestrained, she might have extended them in gesture. Instead, all she could do was roll her eyes. “I’m sorry if my lack of answers disappoints you. They certainly do me”.

Had she the opportunity for what many possessed, a happy life amongst those she loved, she’d have given all the worlds in the galaxy to defend it, defend them. “Sometimes, believe it or not, I’m actually useful. I can protect people. What would give me the right to sit on the edge of existence in peace, when there is so much darkness? The galaxy is restless. You can feel it, always”. Whilst a life with Han and Chewbacca wasn’t the most righteous of pursuits, the travel gave way to more noble ventures. She could, and had, help people she crossed. Kenna had never figured herself to be the kind for great triumph and rebellion. She didn’t care for the burden of glory. Heavy was the head that bore the crown, after all, and bare was the neck to their enemies. Yet, if she could make this place somehow better, even just person by person, why wouldn’t she? “There’s so much death… and loss… and misery. I don’t think I would ever be able to escape it, even at Lah’mu”.

It must be nice, she thought, to feel as confident in oneself and one’s goals as Kylo was.

He was so set in his ways, so dismissive of being torn.

The girl sunk back into her seat. With another glimpse, she pondered of his life. Had he always been here? How much of this was indoctrination? Had they indoctrinated him at all?

They had to have.

He didn’t— he didn’t seem inherently evil.

The commander had issues, so much was clear in his outbursts and his suppression. But didn’t everyone have some kind of problems of their own?

Kenna didn’t know; she couldn’t tell.

She probably never would.

What she had learnt from experience, however, was that life was purely subjective. Morals changed from place to place, let alone between planets and systems. To some, cannibalism was a monstrous concept— beastly, even. To other species, it was a grave offence to one’s ancestors to waste what death extended their people. What mattered, really, was what was in someone’s heart. Some, in the First Order, fought for what they believed in with all that they were. In that, how were they different from some of her friends in the resistance? What gave her the right to judge them?

“If I’m going to help you,” she broke her silence, after a passing moment, “I might need to be able to move”. Her hands lifted. “Although, next time, you can just ask me to shut up. I don’t really see what the restraints accomplished when I’m perfectly capable of talking still...” she concluded, pondering aloud

~***~

Poe had spent the best part of an hour trying to convince General Organa that they should investigate, even if they did not need to investigate.

They’d been following up every lead they had on Luke for over a year. A frequency that referenced the Sith was surely just as important, if not more. Of course, he was in no authority to outright say this, and subtly wasn’t exactly his strong suit. So, rather he’d struggled and floundered for best part of an hour, as he beat around the bush.

In the end, he’d volunteered himself to go. If the general believed it to be insubstantial, or of little consequence, she didn’t need to waste resources or men. He’d take Parsi and the two of them could go with a skeleton team. For a while, she remained unsure. Poe was a hell of a pilot; some might claim the best in the resistance. What would she do, if she sent him out, and he was then needed back on base? Fighting a war was schematic, he’d give her that. It was crucial that the right pieces were in the right places at the right time. One wrong move and you played right into the enemy’s hand. These things couldn’t just be a spur of the moment decision. So, he’d left her to think on it, because that was the right thing to do.

And also, because he really didn’t have any other choice.

When he had been called to speak with her, his heart had sunk to his stomach. It rampaged against the ribs of his chest like a wild beast raging to be freed.

He was to go, after all.

She had decided.

He would take a handful of people of his own devises and locate the origin of the source. From there, they’d scope the planet for anything questionable or suspicious. They were not to act on anything that didn’t require immediate attention but report back when possible. Poe agreed. Although, inaction was never his strong suit, and they both knew it. From there, the General had passed him the papers. He had not, at this point, even considered opening them. His first mistake. Instead, he’d bid Leia farewell, and she that the force would be with them. He’d let her leave without further questioning or clarification. His second mistake. It was only as he walked back to the meeting room, to find Zenda Parsi, that he unfolded the unscrambled message. He’d nearly lost his footing as he strode. BB-8 gave a small screech, as he was nearly trodden upon.

“Work of generations is—
Error is corrected—
Revenge.
Day of the Sith”

The hand holding the paper falling limp to his side, Poe brought his spare across his forehead. He rubbed it sorely. This had to be wrong. Deathstar 3.0 and the Day of the Sith? It was as if he’d awoken in a parallel universe or something, where the Battle of Yavin had yet to exist or had would never exist at all.

“You see this, BB?” He prodded the paper with his left index. “I don’t know what galaxy I woke up in this morning, but something sure in hell ain’t right with it”.

The droid girl a whirr of agreement.

“Do you think she’ll come along?” He asked, as he ventured further along, back the way he’d taken Zenda that morning. “What do you mean, why do I care? I can’t bring Kee, now, can I? He’s too old for the field, and we need a cryptologist”.

To the bots answer, he rolled his eyes. “What do I mean ‘we’? You’re coming along too, buddy. Someone has to mediate between Parsi and I, or she’ll have my head and you know it! Besides, you know that I need you”. It gave a satisfied hum, to which Dameron scoffed. “You cheeky droid. You just wanted to be complimented. Didn’t you?”

And people claimed droids had no personality.

People were wrong.

Having tapped the code into the meeting room door, Poe re-entered silently. He’d learnt his lesson last time and didn’t need to be told to shut up twice, most of the time. “Got a moment?” He asked, a little sheepish. “I’ve spoken with the general. Good work on the decryption, by the way. I knew you were the one for the job”. BB gave a little screech from where he’d ventured. “Okay, maybe the droid had an input too”. A slight chuckle thrummed between his lips as a hot breath. His hand raised to run along the back of his neck. “The general agreed for further investigation. It’s not looking so good, huh?”

Placing the paper down on the table before them, he gestured to the words. “Day of the Sith? This could be old. Right? Like an old transmission?” He had suddenly found himself wanting his suspicions to be wrong. A defeated blow through his nostrils, Poe slumped down into the seat pulled near. His eyes locked upon her own, apologetically and sincere. “I need you to come and join me, Zenda, out in the field”.

 

[Lucyfer]

Kylo knew better than most there was no going back to the past. He’d torn himself from his own past, killed those who were a part of it, and changed his name. He still had a long ways to go to fully purge himself of it, but he would, bit by bit, until there was nothing left to be purged. Until he would, only, be Kylo Ren, as Vader should have only been Darth Vader. He would make sure he was successful in this, where others had failed.

Where Kenna failed.

She chose to fight because, it seemed, she thought it was noble. Her activities helped people. He scoffed aloud at it, but otherwise let her continue uninterrupted with her justification. ‘You don’t know enough to know how to help the galaxy.’ That became clearer the more they talked. Or rather, the more she said. She didn’t get nearly enough answers from the people she was supposedly helping, like Lor San Tekka. She may have been duped into performing plenty of atrocities, in the name of good.

Kylo had been, once upon a time, when he thought the Jedi were good.

He didn’t want to keep seeing similarities, though.

Of course, she shifted the topic shortly to her binds. Of course she did. They all tried to get more leeway, eventually. “No.” He stated bluntly, “You can walk, that’s all that is required of you currently. You’re allowed to continue speaking in order that you can draw attention to things we may find on Lah’mu that require further investigation,” which she would not be able to perform, because her hands were bound.

He wasn’t that generous.

Far from it.

And he could always have her gagged if he felt a need for it, and she could gesture to things instead. “Lah’mu is fairly far. You may want to get a nap in,” of course, lightspeed made everything faster, but given they were traveling from R-16 grid to L-3, it was no minor jump. He suspected they may even have to stop off early to grab food, given the shuttle wasn’t outfitted for a lengthy travel.

Perhaps he should have considered reuniting with the Finalizer and jumping to Lah’mu, after all. ‘Oh well.’ He wasn’t going to admit he might have been wrong about this rash decision.

~***~

It didn’t take too long for Poe Dameron to join her. Alexandria hadn’t been sure if it would be Poe or Leia, or even both, that she would soon see. She preferred Poe. Leia’s attention was a bit too much for the First Order officer to consider at the moment. She was certain she’d still play her role well, but…there was an additional stress to being under the eyes of General Organa that she didn’t want to have to go through.

Dealing with the favored flyboy was another matter. He wasn’t half as intimidating as General Organa, and was apparently learning not to be obnoxious in a working space. Thankfully for him, she wasn’t doing anything serious, just looking over the Sith book. She closed it as he stepped in, nodding when he asked for a moment, hands folding over the book.

“It’s certainly possible it could be old,” Alexandria agreed. It was what she was hoping for, too. Something from Project Inferno. Something that could be disregarded as a malfunctioning, old droid who just needed to be shut down. She got up from where she was sitting, sensing that Poe was indeed worried by the situation.

Who wouldn’t be?

She just didn’t let her nerves show themselves as obviously. Of course, as she got up, he sat down. It was almost an amusing contrast. “I’ll come, but I want that sandwich,” she said, “How long do you think we’ll be out? I need to pack a bag.” She wasn’t sure too much of what she’d need, but probably a change of clothes, a couple water containers, and some ration packs seemed like a good idea.

Oh, and a blaster and knife, of course.

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

“You can walk, that’s all that is required of you currently...”

As you wish, your highness.

Still, her lower lip childishly stuck before the upper. A defeated blow of hot air lifted the strands of auburn, which strayed into her eyes. He was being unfair; she’d been entirely cooperative and no bother at all. Well, at least, she was being perceivably cooperative and a lot less mouthy than she’d have liked to be. But, fine, let him have his power complex. Not like there was much she could do about it anyway, it just felt less debilitating to believe she had a choice. In truth, Kenna figured she was less annoyed about the restraint situation that she’d be willing to admit. Instead, her irritation came from something else entirely: his silence. She’d never been the kind to care much about it, usually because it wasn’t frequent to her company.

When it came to her travelling partners, Han and Chewie always knew how to run their mouths. If a moment of tranquillity ever came, well, Upari was more than up to the task of filling it herself. It was a busy and bustling atmosphere, that kept one from the depths and despair of their own mind— which was something she bet they all needed really, a distraction. With Ren’s emotions simmered, it was becoming increasingly impossible to read him. She was shut out entirely, left only to reflect and reason on the parts of her life she’d rather not. When she obliged him with what answers she could, he upheld his pledge of silence. There came no response, no opinion or assurances. She might have even taken his disapproval or agitation in her stride, if it meant some kind of reaction.

“I’m fine,” Upari refused, bitterly. “Thanks”.

She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. Although, her eyes weighted heavily and her limbs ached a little, she would not succumb to any desire to rest; he had suggested it. So, in her immaturity, Kenna would be purposely oppositional, even at the detriment to herself. She wasn’t sure what exactly it achieved, if anything, but she was as stubborn and headstrong as him. At least, if nothing else, she refused to be any more vulnerable than she already was.

~***~

There was a tenseness to his muscles. It made him feel more of a mannequin in his seat, than a man of flesh and bone. His brain was a violent whirl of stupidity, trying to organize the chaos in his life. Usually, it worked overtime anyway; seeking to discover a way to control the capriciousness of people, to acquiesce and please them so that his encounters were softer and less draining. Yet, now, it was scattered into a million different complications, a kaleidoscope of consciousness.

It shouldn’t, really.

There were plenty of people, most more capable than him, to tackle the other threats at hand. Yet, he often found himself untrusting, anxious of whether the job meant as much to others as it did to him.

What he really needed right now was sleep.

Six hours would be nice. But there was no chance of that. He would fly the plane over night, he figured. Not even a glass of fuzzy tauntaun would calm his nerves. Parsi’s validation of his hopes was as close as he was going to get to peace tonight, it seemed.

That would have to make do.

At least, if nothing else, she had agreed to come. That was good. He reckoned they needed a win, and they could certainly do with her knowledge behind them. “If that’s the price to pay for salvation,” he joked, in turn. Although, it was clear his spirits were not as high as they’d been this morning. Poe dragged a hand across his eyes and down to his chin, where it’s swiped his mouth. “Consider it done”. The corners of his lips twitched upwards. In spite of all the ominous darkness lingering, his eyes still held an eternal twinkle. “Crik,” he laughed, just a little embittered. “If it is what we hope it is? A few days at most. If not...” well, Poe was certainly no Jedi. He had no idea what could unravel. “I figure clothing choice will be the least of our concerns”.

Poe was quite used to travelling lightly by now. He kept a back ready to go at all times. In it, he’d bestowed a few pairs of pressed combats, a couple changes of tops, one or two blazers, and a change of boots. Given the variety of habitats his missions brought him to, he wasn’t disinclined to losing the occasional boot every now and then. Leia often joked that soon he’d have a shoe in every system. Poe wished that she was exaggerating. “Might want to make sure you bring that book of yours, though,” he nodded to the text she held near.

He still thought it was a little peculiar that she possessed something of that kind. He supposed that he had a few odd things himself in his closet. Yet, one had to wonder where someone even came into possession of such an item— especially considering it was a topic of such notoriety that droids had blacklisted it. “I’ll let you go and pack,” the pilot nodded, after a moments consideration. “Meet you in the hangar at... say, 7?” Till sunset would give her a few hours to ensure she had everything but didn’t delay the mission substantially.

 

[Lucyfer]

The trip was not entirely unbearable.

Kylo would join others in the cockpit, while Troopers took watch of Kenna, and began to sleep in shifts. Phasma did, as well as Kylo, although not at the same time. They did stop once at a station to refuel and gather supplies for the remaining journey, before they were off again towards Lah’mu. Despite lightspeed, it still took time to get there.

When they did eventually arrive overhead of Lah’mu, the coordinates for the Erso residence were plugged in, and they began their descent to find it was, indeed, in ruins. Not fire or anything, simply ill-kept over time. ‘Strange.’ He would have expected people to take advantage of the place, not leave it alone. It was on good ground for farms.

Then again, it was also a known location on the planet that led to people like him showing up.

He left the cockpit to return to the back of the shuttle, where Troopers mingled about, and Kenna was positioned. He approached her, “Rise,” he gave the order with little care for how she may have spent her time. He knew she’d been given food, though not let out of her restraints to eat it. He hadn’t monitored how that happened and if she was able to eat anything at all, or if she’d decided to continue being defiant. “We’re at Lah’mu,” he said, just before the ship would settle on the ground, and the door would open onto the planet.

No one left immediately, but Phasma did move to stand near the door, to await whatever orders Kylo would have about troop positioning and exploration. “Commander, should my troopers begin exploration?”

Kylo looked up a moment, and considered, before answering, “Have them begin to secure the perimeter around the Erso residence. Note three that may accompany me further,” he wouldn’t indicate if they would, that was to be determined, but he wanted the option available and to make Phasma aware so she didn’t position them in key places.

“Understood,” and with that, the chatter began for organizing the Troopers who accompanied them to leave the shuttle and begin setting up a perimeter of the area that they could protect against any who might consider trespassing in the area and mucking up the plans to find whatever it was they were looking for.

~***~

Salvation. It was a word that nearly made Alexandria laugh, but she didn’t, just smiled that he still had some humor to him in spite of the situation. She supposed a sandwich was a pretty cheap way to buy someone off, even in the Order, where Troopers weren’t exactly paid. Something she was still, well…not a fan of, but she wasn’t able to do much about it. She was told it was a temporary measure. That remained to be seen.

Still, she gave a nod. “I’ll pack for a few days, then.” So far as clothing went. She’d pack a few more rations, just in case. Food scarcity wasn’t ideal, and while she disliked rations, she’d rather eat them over starving to death. “I’ll see you soon, Poe.” Well, as soon as the time he stated, at least, and she would not hesitate to head back to her quarters.

She informed her roommate that she’d be heading off on a mission with Poe, and had to endure her roommate’s fluttering for the next hour over it, demanding she get particular information on Poe to satisfy her curiosity. It was almost endearing, if it wasn’t also pitifully annoying and terribly amusing at the same time.

“Keep this up, and I’m going to find out how he kisses.” Alexandria jokingly threatened once she had her bag stuffed and hefted it over her shoulder.

“Don’t you dare!” Rosalie nearly screeched, and at the broadening grin on Pryde’s lips, she huffed, “Don’t you have a boyfriend? That guy you text so often?”

“What he doesn’t know….” It was teasing, as she slipped that datapad into a back pocket. She’d never confirmed the person she texted as a boyfriend, just let Rosalie run off with it without ever confirming it. Rosalie groaned, but Alexandria just smiled and shook her head, “Don’t worry, I don’t have an interest in flyboys,” she reassured.

She shouldn’t have an interest in Rebels, no matter how attractive they were. They were on the wrong side of things. They were dangerous to the galaxy.

She was able to leave on her own and make it to the hangar about ten minutes early, where she found a crate to sit on and wait. She hadn’t asked Poe which ship they were taking, so she wasn’t clear on which one to attempt to board, and wouldn’t move to do so. She’d wait until she caught a glimpse of Poe, and pull her bag with her before she’d walk over to where he was, “So, which piece of junk are we taking?” She said it cheerfully, but she doubted Poe could really contradict her.

The Resistance…really didn’t have much in the way of ships. Or arms. Or people. Or, well, anything. They just had a lot of luck, and some history, on their side.

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

Kenna Upari had never been more bored in the entirety of her life.

Dead set on her foolish vow of ‘defiance’, she’d not slept a wink. She’d not ate either. In fact, she would happily starve before she struggled to eat in front of Stormtroopers, who’d no doubt make a sport of it. Maybe, if she starved, that worked out well for everyone. The First Order would get no information, Lor San Tekka would live in peace, and Kenna would be free of imprisonment, albeit... quite dead... which sort of defeated the point of freedom at all.

Still, it was something she could control, for now, so she would. Her stomach growled in ravenous dispute, so she’d set herself the task of counting to one million. She had only gotten to fifty-seven when she began to ponder exactly how many hours the task would take. Upon realisation that this was approximately 277 hours, the auburn-haired woman settled for the smaller and less menacing figure of a thousand. The task had quickly been abandoned. She really didn’t have the mental capacity for it, this moment. The permanent presence of watchful eyes didn’t help either.

After a while, she’d even tried to talk to the men on guard.

Upon realisation that she wasn’t in danger, or in need of immediate attention, they had taken to ignoring her.

Obviously, in her maturity, the young woman had debated on throwing her food at them. In fact, she had never been more tempted in her life. It would have been a shitty throw, given the lack of momentum and the physical restraints, but Kenna reckoned she could have a good try. If nothing else, the mess would have been an inconvenience. It might have even been amusing to watch them clean. Then, with floundering brain cells, she wondered whether they would make her clean it. She figured they wouldn’t be very nice about it either. So, as tempting as ambushing a few Stormtroopers with a sandwich was, Upari decided it was a hard pass.

By the time Kylo Ren returned, Kenna had pondered the meaning of life three times, had an existential crisis, and had just begun wondering how light speed even worked.

Thank the Force they’d reached Lah’mu.

“Do you think boredom can be classed as a form of torture?” She acknowledged his command, swinging herself up from where she lay at the same time. “If I was going to torture someone, I’d place them in a First Order shuttle, I think”. Her eyes cast to the door, where the Stormtroopers flocked. “Is it their job requirement to have no personality? Or, is that engrained over time?”

She didn’t figure she was going to get an answer.

To be honest, she didn’t care.

Kylo listened. Whether or not he acknowledged her was another thing altogether, but at least she knew he paid some kind of attention. “The Erso residence would be a good place to hide something,” she told him, as she moved to disembark. “The people avoid it like it possesses sickness. Being on the map, it’s not ideal for people who want to hide”. She debated whether or not to warn him of the potential security. Having decided she’d probably be punished, or even killed, come catastrophe, Kenna decided she’d at least give him in advance.

“Ren,” coming to a halt, she stood for a moment. “The Ersos were intelligent people. It’s not unlikely that there’s some kind of trap engineered into the building”. She nodded towards his men. “They should be cautious, just in case”.

~***~

There was enough malice in this world, Poe felt.

People were often the victim of misfortune, the recipients of the pains and misery of war, and even times of peace. Those with power defiled the weaker. They degraded them, made use of them as if credits to be taken or exchanged at their own pleasure. There were ships treated better than people— objects, clothing and weaponry too. Perhaps his opinion was biased by the company he held, or a youthful naivety, but Poe truly believed in unity. If people were to ever thrive throughout the galaxy, they could only do so together. A single person against a tyrannous authority did not do much or hold much potential against the adversity of life. However, an army of resistance, it was a force to be reckoned with. No, the galaxy would never prosper so long as it was built upon the misery of others. Instead, people had to build each other up. It was a Utopian dream. He knew this.

It didn’t stop him from dreaming.

Not everyone held malevolent intentions. But life was cruel. In today’s climate, survival was no easy feat. Many had been taught, through life, that it was often a matter of kill or be killed. In consequence, they were quick to spy on another, to manipulate and seduce, or even to stab the friends in the back. Society was not merciful. He only wished it could be different.

But why should they be?

It was not the fault of themselves, that this was the way. People were just a by-product of their lives. If they could not trust one another, depend upon one another, who did they have to turn to but their ‘knights in shining armour’? Who else could they trust but the First Order?

He was wise enough to understand that he was only different because he’d the privilege of opportunity.

Otherwise, he might have just been another scared soul looking to survive

It was for this reason, however, that Poe liked to welcome those he met with open arms. If they didn’t have a family, have friends, he was more than happy to stand in for that. Sure, hard work was never short in the resistance. The days were long and often draining, but Poe was happy here. He was content. Because, in spite of the odds, in spite of the uncertainty of their future and everything they’d endured, the people here were happy. They had each other and they had hope. This was something he knew he had to cling onto, particularly in these darker moments.

Alike Zenda Parsi, Poe Dameron had retreated from the meeting room to retrieve his bag, tucked neatly beneath his bed. He had a few hours left, but plenty of things ought to be done before he did. So, there was no time to rest. If he was only able to take a few spare hands, Poe was going to choose the best of the best: his team.

First, he just had to gather them together, to brief and update them.

His bag slung over his shoulder, the resistance pilot turned to his droid and close companion. “I need you to send an alert to Black Squadron, buddy,” his spare hand nestled into his trouser pocket. “I won’t be able to bring them all, but I’ll let them decide amongst themselves wants to come and who wants stay. Some of us have gotta stay behind and protect the base”. Though a commander, Poe liked to consider the opinions of those under his care, even if he did ultimately make the executive decision. His team were good. Sometimes, they thought of things that had never even crossed his mind. "Rose Tico from Cobalt too, if you can, BB". He was afraid he couldn’t give much choice to Tico. This operation wouldn’t go far without a trusty technician.

Besides, Rose had been itching for a field mission for a long time.

As it turned out, he would bring Kun, his favourite victory kid, and Rose. A matriarchy it would be, then, for better or for worse.

“I’ll bring her back to you in one piece,” he’d promised Wexley, his second, and Kun’s beloved.

As captain, it was his duty to stay behind and fill Poe’s position while he was gone, acting commander.

Temmin Wexley had laughed. “Or the other way around”.

BB-8 had whirled in agreement.

“Yeah,” Poe’d chuckled, extending his hand for a quick embrace. “Or the other way around,” he’d grinned, bitter sweetly. “You take care of that General of ours,” his finger had extended to wag. “I leave the base in your trusty hands, Black Two”. Then, he’d turned to Pava and L’ampar. “You two look after him now. And yourselves”.

“It’s an honour, commander,” L’ulo nodded. “May the force be with you”.

To the Duros, Poe smiled sincerely.

L’ulo L’ampar was a great man and a good family friend, who’d fought for the resistance long before Poe could even babble. Dameron was privileged to serve aside such people, let alone be their commander and friend. “No, L’ulo, the honour is mine”.

By the time he’d arrived at the hangar, Parsi was already there and waiting.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long,” Poe greeted with a smile, before throwing a bottle of iced caf in her direction. “Here!”

He could only hope she’d catch it.

“I figured I owed you one. It’s up to you whether or not you wanna drink it. You might want to take a nap for the first leg of the journey. We’ve a long ride ahead of us”. With a nod of his head, he began to move to navigate through the selection of ships. “We’re bringing the shuttle, not as small as the starfighters but not as big as the corvettes. It’s more practical. Plus, there’s the benefit of ambiguity. Less likely to be noted since they’re used so little”. He turned to face her. “You got a good aim?”

They didn’t have much of a choice. However shabby it was, he supposed it would have to make do. He needed Kun as second pilot, and he doubted Zenda could be much worse than Tico, who nerves sometimes got the better of.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Yes.’ Kylo wouldn’t actually answer her about boredom as a form of torture. It was, actually. So was sensation deprivation, which people didn’t often think about. Torture had to fit the person they were torturing. He’d heard enough from the First Order Security Bureau about the various ways they could go about getting information from someone. ‘And yet they keep failing.’ Though, most of them weren’t in the business of outright torture.

Most of them were in the business of spying for information, not grasping it from raw throats and burning lungs.

Kenna got to her feet amidst her many questions that Kylo chose to ignore about torture and the Stormtroopers. The Stormtroopers were doing their job efficiently. He started to walk towards the ramp himself as Kenna rose, expecting she would continue to be mostly cooperative and follow along. However, she paused, and he half-turned as she called his name to listen to her addition now about the potential for traps. He wasn’t worried about them for himself, never was, but he supposed it’d be bad to lose Stormtroopers needlessly to some trap.

So, he gave a nod, and looked to Phasma, “Make sure the Troopers know to be cautious and on the lookout for traps,” he said, and she gave a nod of agreement and went out of the ship to begin to relay that to the others who had already started to move towards creating a perimeter. To Kenna, he related, “We’ll be going to check their residence ourselves,” he thought he would feel any trap with the Force.

He also didn’t think it’d be trapped too terribly.

He had been trying to raise a family here, after all. He had to be cautious of what a child might trip up, after all.

The air outside of the ship was heavy. Rain was falling at a light clatter, and the sound annoyed Kylo a bit as it struck his helmet, again and again. No thunder rumbled, no lightning flashed, but the darkened sky would make things more difficult to find on the planet. Nonetheless, he intended to search it, and head towards the residence which was still standing. He was certain the Order had been through here before, though not with him, in some vain hope of finding information for something like the Death Star, or other plans and blueprints they could use for their own designs.

He didn’t think they came up with anything notable.

He waited for Kenna at the base of the ramp, “Lead.” He would still be insisting that she go first for these things, since she’d been assigned the mission by Lor San Tekka.

~***~

Alexandria was quick to slip off the crate, and had barely enough time to catch the thing thrown at her. It took her a second of feeling the cold and recognizing the branding on it to realize the gift Poe had given her. Either he’d done his research, or it was a lucky guess. Either way, she couldn’t keep the grin off her lips as she shouldered her bag once more, and caught up with Poe and his group.

She wouldn’t open the drink just yet.

“I can…hit a person, if that’s what you mean. Can’t promise where I’ll hit them, but usually center-mass,” she answered his question with some hesitation and scepiticism about her own ability.

Her ability with a blaster was actually far superior to what she was saying, although it had been a while since she’d shown that. Usually at the range, she feigned being worse than she was, which, admittedly, did take aim and practice to do. She was best with melee weapons, though she had little plans of showing that off.

Every former Cadet learned that a dagger was often the thing that kept one alive; it was more dependable than a blaster, and a Force user wasn’t going to block a dagger to their throat if you were able to get in that close.

She was offered introductions then to Kare Kun and Rose Tico, giving her own false name to both of them with a smile, “We’ve met before,” Rose noted with a smile. “Your roommate’s Rosalie, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “I remember – you two have such similar names,” and Rose was another mechanic, so they’d crossed paths a few times. Rose’s skills were far superior to her own, “Glad to see Poe’s added some decent people to this mission.”

Rose agreed with a light chuckle, some of her excitement showing for the mission. Kare looked a bit more dubious about it, since the two with them hadn’t gone on many field missions before – if any. She let Poe see that doubt, but wouldn’t speak to it.

She knew why they needed each of them.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, then,” Kare said. “Do we know where we’re heading or what we’re looking at?”

Alexandria straightened a bit, “The signal is coming from the Mid-Rim, within L-7. When we get closer, we can likely pinpoint it more directly by the frequency.”

“What’s in L-7 that we know?” Rose asked, curious.

“Well, it’s known as the Bright Jewel sector, which is ironic since it houses a junk planet….” Alexandria noted.

“It’s because of its sun – it’s a really pretty blue,” Kare confirmed.

 

[maladaptivedreamer]

The familiarity of Lah’mu greeted her like a breath of fresh air.

As she stepped into the open, Kenna’s head fell back, basking in the glory of the crisp atmosphere and the fresh, pouring rain. It was as though she could breathe again, after prolonged suffocation. So long had passed, and yet the surroundings met her eyes as though it had only been yesterday. Her heart pounded against her chest overpoweringly, as she moved from her position. Her boots finally embedded into the ground of her once upon a time home.

The commander had already met the base of the ramp, and she quickly met his side.

His further demand of her to ‘lead’ sent her eyes rolling.

“It doesn’t hurt to be polite, you know,” she returned, with a pointed look, as they moved away from prying ears, “even if you don’t need to”.

Frankly, at this point, she was beyond letting his outright rudeness pass.

What was he going to do? Gag her?

Let him.

See if she cared.

That would only make his task more difficult. Kenna didn’t want to speak; each word potentially endangered others.

“Being hostile doesn’t make me want to help— and, yes,” she cast him another cold glance, “I am fully aware of my situation. There’s no need to remind me”.

What even was his problem anyway?

Agitation stirred in her gut.

It didn’t kill to have manners.

She was sure there were plenty of respectable people in the First Order, whether or not she agreed with their morals or values. It felt like Kylo, on the other hand, had a point to prove. He had suppressed himself to little more than fear tactics and work-- never uttering a single word beyond commands or, if one was particularly lucky, syllabic acknowledgments.

Why?

What did he think would possibly happen if he revealed even the tiniest piece of humanity?

She knew it was there; she had felt it. It wasn’t that she felt good radiating from him or could see some kind of cliché light in his dark demeanour. Instead, it was rather that, from time to time, she was subject to his emotions within her awareness of him. Ren felt things, passionately, and she couldn’t bring herself to believe that they were wholly negative. “Just because you act cruel… it doesn’t make me believe you are,” she spoke plainly, as they approached the Erso residence. Her eyes rested upon the subterranean building, submerged before them. “You could have hurt me plenty of times. I’ve certainly pressed you to. Yet, you haven’t. Why?” Kenna didn’t care if he ignored her. She’d made her point. Whatever he was trying to prove, to himself or others, she wasn’t biting.

The door of the homestead settled before them and she approached it with reluctance. For a moment, Kenna stood before it, trying to envision, if she was a paranoid man-in-hiding, where she might place life threatening traps.

It felt safe, in her gut.

Quite wanting to be as far away from Kylo Ren as her situation allowed, Upari didn’t care enough to ask what he thought.

She carelessly descended first.

A cold chill ran the length of her spine. Her stomach curdled. Damp encased the once embellished living quarters. More hauntingly, the entirety of the contents remained untouched. The wound of the Erso’s demise was as fresh as the day of its’ affliction. A whirlwind of childhood trepidation devoured her. It was nauseating. She recalled tiptoeing about the outskirts of the building, never quite able to bring herself to trespass through the unhinged doorway. Most of all, she recalled the haunting whispers; how they were inescapable, how they were carried to her home by the omnipotent wind. It plagued her dreams.

Pain. There was so much pain.

“There’s nothing here but ghosts,” she told Ren, without turning to acknowledge him. “You can... feel them... watching you”. Upari shook her head, fiery strands bouncing like the rhythmic movements of a flame. She wasn’t sure what she was on about herself, and very much doubted Kylo would understand. “We shouldn’t be here,” her emotion weighted her voice. “We have no business here. It’s wrong”.

Had anyone even buried these people?

Or did their bodies remain, rotting within the empty shell of a place they’d once called home?

The thought was almost enough to make her gag.

~***~

“I can…hit a person, if that’s what you mean. Can’t promise where I’ll hit them, but usually centre-mass”.

Poe snorted. “That’s good enough for me”. He reached out, hand extending to tauntingly pat her on the back before he brushed past. “Congratulations on your promotion to triple duty”. Albeit, now that they had Rose, Zenda’s duties as a mechanic were far less stretched. It wasn’t ideal, but what could he do?

As he moved towards the ship, the young pilot whistled a light blow of infatuation.

God, the ship was beautiful— old, for sure, a veteran, no doubt, but beautiful all the same.

His fingertips extended, running the length of the heavy metal as he moved along. It was cold to the touch and scarred by a violent history that stretched long before his lifetime.

Poe was in love.

“Let us know when you’re finished touching up the ship, Commander,” a familiar voice chirped from within.

Dameron instinctively rolled his eyes. Although, he couldn’t bite back the smile that tugged upon his lips as he turned to face his friend. His hands threw up in mock surrender. “I’m coming. I’m coming!” He replied, jogging a little as he paced towards the ramp and ascended.

“Poe Dameron,” Kun turned to face the girls, to extend her amusement, “possibly the centre of attention for most single women in this base, and yet he only has eyes for the mechanical kind”.

He ignored her jest at his expense as he slid aboard, feeling quite outnumbered by the female presence he’d inadvertently accumulated. Yet, the tips of his cheeks had begun to glow a hot shade of pink. Allowing the girl’s to talk, Poe had taken to slotting his bag away and readying himself for the journey ahead. He’d just unscrewed the top from his bottle of Caf when he’d returned. His eyes met that of his fellow teammate.

Poe Dameron knew Kare Kun best of anyone aboard.

She didn’t need to utter a single word for him to perceive her uncertainty. Exchanging a passing look with her, the commander extended an empathetic smile with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

It wasn’t desirable.

It wasn’t Black Squadron.

But it’d have to do.

“I’d hedge a bet that it has something to do with Ord Mantell,” Poe interjected, sliding past the three of them and heading towards the cockpit. “A once imperial stronghold, it would make sense. We should be mindful of potential sympathisers. The last thing we need is the First Order knowing our whereabouts”. If they were dealing with the Sith, or former imperial war lords, they needed to minimise the endless scope of enemies substantially. There was no running before one could walk, after all. With just the four of them, they’d be on their ass before they even had a chance. Settling into the ship, Dameron began to lift the ramp, inputting the coordinates of their destination into the system.

“Kun,” he called across his shoulder, “get in here a moment, I could do with your advice”.

“That helpless already?” She smirked, sliding in.

He could feel her moving in behind.

“What is it?”

“I’m just setting the grid,” he explained, dragging a hand across his forehead. Poe slumped into his seat. “I’m debating whether or not we should put the neighbouring system as our coordinates. The last thing we need is the First Order detecting us as we exit hyperspace”. It could add considerable time onto the duration of their journey. By the time they reached the origin of the frequency, who knew what could have happened? It might have moved on by then… or, worse, it might have stopped altogether.

“It’s a valid point, from pilot’s perspective,” she acknowledged, settling into the seat across. Her nimble fingers extended to flicker the appropriate switches as his second.

There was something she wasn’t saying.

“But?” He piqued a brow, peering at her curiously.

“But,” She replied, “have you asked the newbie?” Her arms folded before her chest. “I mean I suppose she’s here for a reason, after all?” Kun reminded him, as matter of factly. “We’re chasing her frequency. Right?”

He only nodded in return.

She was right.

“Well, I say, let her do her job,” it was less of a criticism of Zenda and more an acknowledgment to Poe’s overstepping. Sometimes, he had a habit of overplaying his role. Given his position, that might have been fine. It wasn’t fine for him though. Poe Dameron liked his team to be plain-speaking and not afraid to say how they felt. How could they fight to protect democracy, if he didn’t honour it in his own team?

“Parsi?” He called. “You settled in back there?” A shit eating grin etched to his lips; Poe’s head turned over his shoulder. “I hate to break up girl bonding time, but we’re gonna need your help in here”.

From the side, Kun gave a scoff, but verbally added nothing in contribution.

“What?” He bit back a smirk.

It was Kare’s turn to shake her head. “Didn’t say a word, boss”.

“Didn’t have to, victory child,” he retorted. “Your disapproval is oozing. Bad vibes, Kun. Bad vibes”.

The two of them erupted into laughter.

As someone entered the room, the Commander noted Rose’s presence first, acknowledging her with a courteous smile and a nod of his head. The pilot strapped himself in, tugging his seatbelt across his chest. “Tico, does everything seem okay? Have you had a chance to once things over yet? The last thing I wanna do is take off with a dodgy hyperdrive, or the propulsion tank overflowing”.

“Aren’t you just full of optimism today?” Kun remarked, buckling into her seat herself.

“It’s been one of those days,” he explained with a theatrical exhalation. “And, I’m stuck with you lot for the foreseeable future,” Poe added, never one to miss a jest.