Fandom Star Wars: Cold Wars [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

It was almost impressive that she was able to talk through the pain that must have been radiating through her head. Doubly so that she was able to do that, and continue trying to obscure the information about the droid. The location of the Resistance did not come up, besides that it was uninhabited planet, which he did suspect. The droid was apparently offline.

Dead.

That was curious enough to cause a stir in his thoughts. There were few droids that wouldn’t be taken apart and sliced into for the information in the Resistance. Not even Threepio held that much respect, for Threepio had his memory wiped more than once. That left one: “R2-D2.”

Perhaps it was unusual that he would know the name of the droid, but Lee had already started to see the familiarity he held with the Resistance and its members. “It must be R2-D2 if the Resistance is unwilling to simply slice into the droid.” Not to mention R2-D2 had been Luke, not Threepio. If Luke was going to leave the information in a droid, it would have been R2…but how did he split it?

Why did he split it?

“The Resistance doesn’t have the resources I have,” they couldn’t explore as much as he could all at once. “What’s on the map?” He wondered, “Have you seen it?” If he could get an image of it out of her head, he may be able to proceed from that and try to fill in the gaps from there. It was certainly worth a shot, anyway. If not, he’d have to go back to trying to learn where the Resistance was.

And then he could find R2.

~***~

By now, a smart person would start to wonder if Neria could be trusted. She had met Poe and lied straight to Terex’s face. Now she was talking about manipulating Terex with another deception as if this were just an ordinary part of life. As if it couldn’t go wrong, or be seen through.

He didn’t, in fact, question whether or not Neria could be trusted. Not aloud, anyway. He questioned how the plan could work, how Terex wouldn’t see the deception coming from a mile away. It was a fair question. Terex knew her better than Poe. That was to his detriment. “My cousin is a better hunter than I, which is saying something,” not that Poe knew that. Yet. There was a reason her cousin stayed in the Carrion and made it his home, rather than civilization.

Sometimes, she did consider he may be touched by the Force.

“He may suspect a trick, but he also knows there is a precedence set. He knows my family. By default, he knows that the Carrion Plateau is, more or less, considered sacred ground,” the Carrion Plateau decided which Tarkins – or rather, which children dropped into the Carrion were worthy of the title Tarkin. “He may believe I hold it with similar reverence,” and she did…but nothing said the Tarkins themselves weren’t a part of that. Her cousin had free reign to hunt as any other beast did.

It was judge, jury, and executioner of their fates, and so it had been for criminals who slighted them but deserved…something for it.

“Even if he does suspect something, riddle me this, Dameron,” she said, “Given the choice between immediate death, or being dropped into wilderness and told to survive, which would you pick?”

Most people would risk it. Anything for a bit more time. Anything for 0.0001% odds over 0% odds – and when they caught up with Terex, he would know his choices were only immediate death for being uncooperative, or this form of mercy.

 

[insensitive]

Lee's teeth gritted against each other, her jaw tightening with every breath, her knuckles white and slick with sweat. The air in the room felt as though it was flexing around them, like it was alive, and all its force was aimed at her. She felt like an insect, helpless underneath a microscope only he could study her through, and he was searching for any and every piece of information he could find.

It was terrifying, and yet the strongest emotion present within her was anger.

He spoke of these things - these people - as though they were nothing more than mindless drones operating beneath a system of chaotic tyrants. He acted as though Leia, the woman who had taken her in almost as if one of her own after her own mother's call to duty on the New Republic Senate, was a greedy woman blinded by the hunger for chaos itself and sought to bring the galaxy to heel.

All Leia wanted was peace. Though her ways, as Lee was realizing through his statements, were possibly more suspicious than she'd first thought - manipulative, even, though she wouldn't yet go that far, - her intentions were true. His First Order was far different, and whether or not he was too blind to see, it would only result in more harm for the galaxy and its people.

But saying so would gain her nothing. She'd already spoken her mind before, and he had somehow done more to sway her than anyone else had. That was a result of her previous suspicions, however; it wasn't as though they hadn't already been building for years. The only way she would believe anything out of his mouth was if it aligned with what she saw.

“It must be R2-D2 if the Resistance is unwilling to simply slice into the droid.”

She cursed herself for not choosing her words more carefully.

But...how would he have known that? How could he just assume the identity of the droid when going by nothing but the sentiments of the General?

Perhaps he knew more about the droid and its history than she had assumed he would, but too many of his statements made her think otherwise. Made her wonder if he had more history with the Resistance, with Leia, than he was letting on.

It reminded her then of her own memories with General Organa. The times she would share information, personal information, the times she would not. The times they confided in one another, the times they avoided doing so. Lee knew far more about the woman than she assumed any regular Resistance soldier would, and she knew that had everything to do with her father.

Her eyes closed at the flicker of a memory. When Leia had come to her with news of her father's fate. How she'd promised to let her join them when she came of age, how she promised to take care of her until them because of her mother's decision. Leia had delivered on both of those promises.

She mentally shook the image away, though not quick enough for him to not have seen at least a glimpse. "I haven't," that was true. She wasn't sure whether or not she would have, had the droid not shut down before that would have been a possibility, but she was grateful now that she could not provide that piece of information.

Then, "How do you know all this about the Resistance? Why do you hate Leia so much, really?" It was a conscious decision that she referred to the General informally now, hopefully to stir up something or aid in a genuine response. "You must have known her - you weren't always this way," but she didn't know for sure.

~***~

Poe raised a brow at the comment about her cousin being a better hunter than herself, but did nothing more than keep it noted for the future.

He considered her question for a good few seconds. It wasn't so much an obvious choice, to him; if he took his chances with whatever inhabited the plateau, he might be able to contact the Resistance. But what would that mean if, first, he would have to give up valuable information?

He wasn't Terex, and he wasn't in Terex's position, so he didn't quite know what the man would do. But he did know he didn't have the Resistance. He didn't even have his precious First Order, anymore.

What he had left was his pride. Judging by what the man had shown of himself to Poe before, it looked like he had an endless supply of it, too.

"I knew a different man than you did. All I'm saying is that, judging by the one I knew, he's got pride. Once he knows you've turned against him, that won't be good for either of us. If he knows anything about you, and you're willing to do these things, he could figure out that the only choice you're giving him is death." Poe didn't quite know whether or not to put so much faith in her. She was capable, clearly, and was used to moving quickly. But he was far from willing to trust her, and perhaps, now, that was a bit more evident.

He wanted to believe he could. That would certainly make things much easier. Still, he was used to taking precautionary measures. If she decided double-crossing him suited her better, he would have a plan in place.

"How much did he care about the First Order?" he eventually asked. That would make it more clear what the man would do. "If it turns out the person he conspired with was a member, that could either make it easier for him to give them up, or harder. If you think he's still burned by being...kicked out, so to speak, I'd say you're right in assuming he would take his chances with the plateau. Abandoning them completely would be his best option." If he wasn't still so hurt, however, he might decide their cause was more important.

 

[Lucyfer]

There was a flicker of a memory amidst everything else that stood out strongly, as he tried to seek out the location of the droid – the location of the Resistance. This memory did not give him that, but a mere glimpse into the youth of the woman before him. It was a curiosity. From the memory, he ascertained that she must have lost her father, and in the gap, Leia had stepped, rather than her own mother.

There was a tinge of bitterness, resentment, towards her own mother, though memory of her did not surface before some control was grasped by Lee.

And Kylo didn’t think it mattered enough to delve after that flicker of curiosity.

Lee was trying to learn more of him, tossing out questions that drew him back from her own mind and the invasion, as his thoughts flickered to Han. To the loss of Han.

‘No, you’d know.’ Han wasn’t dead yet. He would have felt that. Han was out there, somewhere, even if he was not operating with the Resistance. Kylo had figured that out. He didn’t hate Han, though, and the raw thoughts of his own father mingled with the loss that Lee had felt caused him to instantly say, “I don’t hate Leia,” with too much sharpness, too much haste.

He did know her, only too well.

“Of course I wasn’t always this way,” the question was a way to redirect. “You are far different from you were at three – though I may have questions about that, given the side you’ve chosen.” He could say he had grown up and grown out of any childish delusions that the Resistance held, their own lofty ideals hiding anarchy behind them. Nothing stable. Nothing that could last. Nothing that was going to actually help the galaxy or change the system for the better.

He wasn’t surprised that Lee didn’t know, but there was some resentment. If Leia wasn’t telling others, then she was denying him. Why should he feel the need to tell Lee who he was?

Perhaps, because, having that sort of connection to Leia would make her see his side more clearly. Knowing who he had been…who he had killed…, “I knew Leia Organa. Better than anyone, until she cast me aside.” Threw him to Luke to go be a Jedi Master, threw him to an uncle who wanted to kill him instead of help him. And yet, saying that she was his mother? It was hard to wrap his tongue around it. His throat tightened against it, and his mind fought for another way to say it, to lessen its power but to mean the same.

A way appropriate for his life now as Kylo Ren.

He couldn’t find it. “Before I was Kylo Ren, I went by another name,” he didn’t offer that. That name was forbidden within the First Order, “And I used to call her ‘mother’.”

~***~

Pride.

It was a fatal flaw for so many, Terex included, and it was his pride that Neria was banking on. If he was proud enough, if he thought he could pull some stunt out of his hat, he may go along with her mercy, imagining he would repay it tenfold. Of course, it could backfire. Anything involving the reactions of another person could backfire.

“From your protests, I almost think you would rather Terex be uncooperative,” Neria couldn’t help the light tease, even if she understood Poe wanting something more solid, or to imagine she was considering alternatives. “If he refuses to be cooperative, we kill him. We go through his things. His ship should have logs of the places he’s been, there may be messages he hadn’t yet erased, things like that.” The worst case scenario was killing Terex, and there was no information to find.

It was possible. Neria would just have to console herself with the fact he was dead – or go on a caf-fueled hunt through cameras and droids to investigate every single person Terex had spoken with before the death of Lovetta. She wasn’t sure which was more likely at the moment. Giving up never had been in her nature, but something was going on.

She still didn’t understand why doonium prices spiked but not kyber.

Nor why they went down. Every instinct told her it was important and this was a distraction, and yet…this was what she had.

Yet she tuned into Poe’s query. “Terex always wanted the First Order to be something it was not. He wanted it to be the Empire…or the idealized form of the Empire, I should say,” Terex had been in the Empire so young. He’d not been jaded or cynical. He was now, of course, but he still held on to that starry-eyed dream of what it could have been. What it should have been, and what only a boy of a Core world could imagine it was.

His naivete had been a source of mockery, at times. “He learned it would never be that. Not under current leadership, anyway.” Perhaps, under others, but those Force sensitive leaders never liked to surrender power. They weren’t fit for it. “We’ll see soon enough, but while we’re waiting to get to the next checkpoint, why don’t you tell me a bit about why you’re so against the First Order? Including anything you feel is obvious.”

 

[insensitive]

A noticeable measure of the pain within her head dissipated (albeit a small one) and a little wave of relief slid through her, rolled quickly over her limbs. It allowed her barely a second to relax, before she found herself applying even more energy toward her efforts to resist him. However effective those were, considering she had no idea what she was doing.

Clearing her mind, for the most part. Of anything that could give away the Resistance further than she already had. Redirecting her thoughts to meaningless pieces of information, or questions - which, to her surprise, had managed to pull him from his search.

There was an obvious amount of bitterness to his tone, a poorly hidden emotion which only emphasized the sharpness with which he answered her. But Lee grew annoyed soon after with the statements he followed with, his way of redirecting from the question, deflecting.

The insult hardly reached her, as she was used to his hatred toward the Resistance by now and his utter blindness toward her reasoning. Still, a look of exasperation crossed her features. Obviously she was different, she’d grown since her younger years. What she was referring to, and she doubted he was so incapable of picking up on it as he may have feigned, was the journey he must’ve taken. If Ren hated Leia so much, her Resistance, and in such a personal manner, she couldn’t help but wonder whether or not that was due to those same personal reasons.

“Better than anyone,” about Leia. Which she found almost difficult to believe, for a moment, but he stopped. Didn’t provide her any further insight into why that was true.

Leia had never mentioned his name in any way but...well, not negative but...resigned. Aloof, almost. And suddenly, that seemed to make sense; in questioning the validity of his statement, she found it suspicious on her own that Leia had never been quick to insult him, or speak about him for longer than was needed. There was never any hatred or malice attached to her words when she spoke of him, as far as Lee could remember. It was a detail she hadn’t thought to read much into before, but was now curious.

When he revealed why, her heart did an unexpected few skips, her stomach plummeting. Her jaw nearly slackened as well, but she swallowed the astonishment just as quickly, not allowing it to show past the look in her widened gaze. The way the few borders remaining around her thoughts stumbled and fell.

Her focus was pulled from her thoughts, though any attempt made on his part to infiltrate them would still likely be sensed. For several seconds, however, she was focused purely on that piece of information - searching for a way in which it could be plausible. She didn’t doubt him, not yet. In fact, part of her was so close to piecing it all together that she felt her throat beginning to close up.

‘Leia’s son. A Jedi Killer,’ she thought. Then, ‘How was this kept from me?’

“But…” She fumbled through her thoughts for words, but nothing came. The occasional flaring of pain in her left arm, the weakness it was causing to slip inside her, wasn’t helping.

This man, standing in front of her, was Ben Solo. Presumed by most, she had thought, to be dead. Presumed by Leia herself to be missing. But that couldn’t have been true...could it? She would have known something was wrong, would have at least sensed it - or was that even possible?

How could she not have known about her son’s own fate?

No. That was impossible. This was impossible, and yet, Lee found herself believing it could only be true.

Her questions on the matter of this “Ben”, Leia’s reluctance to indulge her in what had become of him. The way she had avoided Lee’s eyes entirely during the conversation in which his name had been brought up the first and only time she had confronted her about it. Why she never spoke of him, why he had never come back.

But no one else knew, either. If this man - no longer Ben Solo, but this new, violent version who claimed to be disillusioned from the Resistance’s lies - was telling her the truth, then no one among the rebels could have had any idea. Not that Lee had witnessed.

Poe...did he know? Surely. Judging by appearances alone, they were about the same age. It would make sense if Poe had known whoever Ren was, before his turn.

His turn, whatever that had been like.

So many questions, so many of them unanswered, and even more of them arisen due to the fact that she had simply assumed Leia would have entrusted her with the important things. If what he said was true, then clearly, that wasn’t.

Lee hardly knew where to begin. She felt she was in no place to ask any of her questions, not now, but she needed him to elaborate. She couldn’t believe him, because Leia had told her nothing that would point to this fate, and yet that was somehow the reason she found herself believing him more. His version of the truth. “I don’t understand,” was the most obvious place to start, “If you were her son… She never said anything about...about you being like this.” ‘How am I supposed to believe any part of it is true?’

~***~

Poe gave her a look, well-aware that the comment was all in good fun but still managing to be affected by the truth behind it. For a long time, he’d wanted nothing more than to be the cause of Terex’s death. He’d wanted the man to understand that the decisions he’d made regarding the Resistance had been his downfall, that all the times he’d been so reckless in attempting to bring down Poe and his Black Squadron truly amounted to nothing but his own demise.

But that train of thought had quickly been brought to an end. He was almost ashamed, looking back on it, how hungry he had been. For power over the man’s last few seconds of life, for control over his dying breaths. The anger, the grief, had driven him to thoughts and desires he hadn’t even known he possessed.

Since Leia had brought to his attention that Terex and the death of Lovetta would be the way in to a possible alliance with Neria, he wondered why exactly she’d trusted him with the task. She knew the way the deaths of his comrades had steered him away from reason, even if only for so long. She knew how he had obsessed over Terex.

More than that, she knew what anger was capable of doing when it came to those she loved.

When it came to her son.

He shook the thought from his head. He promised Leia he wouldn’t allow his anger to get the better of him, and he would be damned if he didn’t keep that promise.

Her back-up plan was reasonable. Although Terex wasn’t a fool, it wasn’t a stretch to assume he might have forgotten to wipe his drives in the event something like this happened. Even one slightly incriminating message could at least point them in the direction of whoever had given him the order, and that would be plenty to go off of.

Poe found himself examining the features of her face whilst she spoke, taking in the sharpness of it, the angular, stern nature in which she outwardly appeared. He wondered, as he searched, what she thought of the First Order. The Resistance. Where her opinions, her morals, lie.

Her next question revealed to him that she was curious of the same.

He turned his attention to the window before them, considering his response. The First Order never brought up any remotely good memories for him; in his mind, every reason to despise it and its chain of command seemed obvious. But, as some had pointed out to him before, to those on the outside, it might not be so clear. When it came to the instances in which he addressed those types of people, that piece of advice did stick with him, but not in such a manner that he always felt the ignorance could be excused.

Some were so rude in the way they addressed the General, the way they approached the situation. What they witnessed on the outside, according to them, were two chaotic, power-hungry organizations looking to devour the galaxy for their own gain.

However, there were some that genuinely wanted the truth. “The obvious, I’d like to say, is all of it,” he said, “but if everything was as obvious as it seemed, then there would be no question. People who truly had good intentions for the galaxy wouldn’t still be so...suspicious. Resistant, I guess.” The hint of a smile pulled at his lips. However, the emotion was quickly extinguished by the flicker of a memory.

He figured he would start with that. “I know what the First Order does to people,” he reflected, “It turns people, makes them into monsters. I knew someone, for a time, who was swayed into believing what they promised for the galaxy was good. I don’t know what happened to him,” not a whole truth, but not a lie either. Poe had been made aware of Ben Solo’s fate by Leia herself, though he had never spoken of him to another soul besides her since his turn. Since what happened to Luke and his padawans.

Poe didn’t know all the details about what had occurred, of course, and he never felt the need to press. But he knew he was perhaps the only one, or among a very small number of people, who was aware of the information. He never mentioned the true fate of Leia’s son to anyone, not even his closest friends.

It felt odd and unnatural, to think of that name. Ben Solo. It made him think of his younger days, when training with the boy. Better days. Now all those memories had turned sour.

He blinked out of the memory, exhaled shortly as a means of steering himself from the topic. “In all I’ve witnessed, and all I’ve come to know, I can say with certainty that the First Order’s main goal is power. Corruption. An endless system in which those within it are benefitted at the cost of the less fortunate, the less wealthy. I’ve heard people spout nonsense about the First Order ‘wanting to achieve balance’ and ‘harmony within the galaxy’, but I’ve never seen anyone go to such great lengths - horrific lengths - to get to something that sounds so...ideal. They poison the minds of those who haven’t seen firsthand what they can do, what they have done. I’ve seen villages full of innocent people be burned to the ground for their cause, children slaughtered. Even the way they train their troopers is cruel. Everything about them is inhuman.”

 

[Lucyfer]

At least the name Ben Solo was known. Of course, Kylo knew it would be hard to not know that name. He had been Leia’s angel, her last hope, and so many other things he felt sick at just remembering them. He had been known throughout the galaxy, the Prince of Alderaan – even though Alderaan was only a space station built from the ruins of the Death Star.

Even though neither he nor Leia really cared about those sorts of things. No ‘Day of Demand’ was ever expected of him. Leia never truly took the crown of Alderaan. She was a figurehead. That was it.

He watched her reaction, almost savoring the shock of it. It stoked the anger within.

No, she hadn’t known.

No one knew. Leia would never tell anyone, and that settled a bitterness deep in him and hardened his resolve once again. Leia would never allow the truth to tarnish her perfect image. He knew that only too well, now, after learning all she had hidden from him, for all those years. The way that Lee gaped at him said everything, as did her fumbling, but he didn’t interject. He allowed her the time to gather herself for what he knew would be an asinine question.

It was the question he anticipated, and yet it didn’t detract from the anger in his voice as he answered. “Of course she didn’t,” that bitterness, that anger, threatened to boil over as his fists clenched, and unclenched, “You’ve seen how forthcoming she was about her father being Darth Vader, haven’t you?”

That had been a scandal – the scandal that caused Leia to leave the Senate in shame. “Rather than own up to it and admit it, rather than bear that, she left the Senate in shame and her duties, duties she insisted all of my life were so much more important than anything else.”

That was too much.

He took a breath to try and erase it, but of course, it couldn’t. He knew how he sounded, and he knew he didn’t want to sound like that, for this to all seem personal, when it wasn’t. “She never took a second look at Darth Vader. She never examined why a Jedi would leave behind the Old Republic and the Jedi Council, she never thought about it or even admitted it to herself that she could be wrong, that all she was fighting for could be wrong. If she won’t even admit to Darth Vader being her father, if she won’t accept that, why would she accept the truth of her own son going to continue his legacy?”

She would never do such a thing.

She might even deny it was him – she denied Vader as her father, even when Luke said at the end he repented, and became ‘good’ – that he saved Luke. It was something Kylo accepted as truth, but that didn’t mean he believed that Darth Vader had forsaken his goals.

He had a moment of weakness, and perhaps he thought the Senate could not be restored after all the Empire had done. That the Jedi wouldn’t be restored.

He’d been wrong.

Kylo wouldn’t falter, this time. “Leia is a politician. She is a liar, and while she may be the last good intentioned politician out there, she is still the cause of so much chaos and anarchy in the galaxy. Her good intentions are only going to destroy everyone.”

~***~

The truth was easy to glean in the glance that Dameron passed her way. She hit the nail right on the head. What Terex had done to him was quite personal, and he was hoping to see the man’s death on his own. She could understand that, only too easily. The casual detachment she allowed to be seen was often what earned her the title of ‘monster’ by certain populist senators.

A term that Poe slung easily onto the First Order, calling their acts a monstrosity. Perhaps, Neria should have agreed, but the problem was that she couldn’t. She understood the ruthless strategy of it all, and even the idealism of a ‘balanced order’ that could arise from it. After all, the First Order rose from the Empire.

Neria knew the Empire.

She knew how those within had justified Alderaan, and the building of a second Death Star, oblivious to the truth behind it all, the truth that sat at the height of the Empire. That’s what made the First Order interesting. They weren’t led by Sheev Palpatine, and their movements were also not his illusory ones. They were rather straightforward.

She watched his reflection of someone he knew, who was turned – but he didn’t know their current status. She arched a brow at that, as he seemed to become lost there. ‘Why did they go?’ That was certainly the question on the tip of her tongue, but he came out of it before it passed her lips, elaborating on what he’d seen, the standard horrors that…well, probably shouldn’t be standard.

“Inhuman, hm?” She played at the word, “That’s a rather narrow view. Perhaps we humans do not know what is best for the galaxy.” It was again a tease; there were plenty more species to the galaxy. She had learned, in the Senate, not to use such terms as ‘inhumane’, to keep herself mindful of the other aliens who had been disenfranchised by the xenophobia of the Empire and the way it had spread such talk throughout, so easily. “Do you know how Alderaan was justified?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, “It was believed that destroying Alderaan would stop the war. It would stop the rebels. A couple of billion lives, to save trillions more…when one breaks it down to numbers and logic, to the ‘greater good’, it’s easy to justify what is done. I imagine the First Order thinks in a similar light. A few sacrifices, to save the entirety of the galaxy….”

She shook her head, not adding her opinion to the mix, “Just as the New Republic envisions a galaxy where the Core prospers at the expense of the Outer Rim. You know…because that is, evidently, not at all in the favor of the wealthy and completely to the favor of the less-fortunate,” her smile held a bit of slyness. “Have you ever seen CoCo Town on Coruscant? You really should.”

It was far from a pretty sight.

If Poe Dameron thought she would be that easy a sell, he was either naïve to the corruption of the New Republic, or thought she was that naïve. “Why did your friend leave your side?” She asked, rather than continue to offer a hint of whether she favored New Republic corruption or First Order corruption, “Certainly, you must have asked them. What arguments did they have – what did you fail to convince them of?”

 

[insensitive]

Lee was still processing the information when his response came. A new anger had rolled through her, mixed with the confusion which had seemed to last throughout the whole conversation, only in varying degrees.

Her ignorance, it seemed, was becoming a theme. But it wasn’t lost on her that in some ways, so was his.

How could Leia have kept it all a secret? Somehow, she didn’t understand, though she knew the reason must have been incredibly simple to grasp. Lee felt like a child, she suddenly realized. A foolish child, whose only reason for remaining so attached to one side of an overly-complex picture was because of one selfish reason.

Because Leia had promised her the love and affection of a mother.

The revelation hit her with the weight of what felt like the equivalent of the starship rumbling around them. Not only the realization of her own naivety, but of the General’s mistruths. The lies she spewed in order to keep others from searching around her history, her son’s history. All so that her image could not be contaminated, just as it had been before.

Darth Vader.

Ren was right. She was aware of how the revelation among the New Republic had played out, what it did to the Leia’s career as a politician among the Senate. It had gone horribly.

So why did she expect it would go differently this time?

Maybe she was just unaware. Or maybe it was as simple as an inability to come to terms with her son’s turn to the opposing side, the grief and the weight of it all. Perhaps it was just easier for her to ignore it, than to realize that someone whom she loved had gone to those who she spent her entire life and career fighting against.

No. That was foolish thinking, and Lee couldn’t just ignore that any longer—even if it was safer, she couldn’t comfortably watch in silence if she knew what little information had been fed to her were all lies.

A wave of nausea washed over her, something that nearly obscured her vision for several moments, whilst she attempted to make sense of it all. Her life in the Resistance, how much of it had been real and true. The only things which kept her from sinking into a dizzy oblivion were his words. The subject of his anger, which clung to his voice through it all, “...duties she insisted all my life were so much more important than anything else.”

New thoughts rushed to the surface of her mind. She felt nothing less than relief when she recognized the anger in his voice as bitterness, and pain.

If he was trying to convince her this wasn’t personal, he was failing miserably. But before she could bother to remark, he went on, “She never took a second look at Darth Vader,” as some demonstration of the General’s ignorance. Lee couldn’t disagree with it, but then, how many times had he truly examined the ideals of the First Order? The direction in which they meant to head, regardless of what he wanted to believe, simply couldn’t result in an outcome in which the galaxy was better for it. Though Lee found herself incapable of coming up with a way to defend her General, she could hardly see his side clearly, either.

‘What the hell is wrong with this galaxy?’

Lee closed her eyes, resolving to shaking her head and shrinking back against the chair. She wanted to argue against his statements, his morals, everything he seemed to believe in, but how could she? Everything she could say would only lead to more reasons for her not to believe in what she once had. Somehow, his responses were convincing yet so flawed, and she couldn’t take the mental strain it was causing.

Her mind felt as though it was being pulled apart. She felt small, like someone who had stumbled in on something they couldn’t possibly fathom. In the presence of him, it was only amplified. Before, there was too much pride within her to willingly allow that smallness to reach her words, but now, she didn’t care.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, stifling the whimper in her throat, attempting to keep her voice strong. Her lungs felt deflated, making her efforts to pull in air all the more sporadic. Uneven. She fought against the weakness with every second, but anyone could see it had taken its toll.

Only slightly begrudgingly but all the more quietly, she said, “Please. Please just let me rest.” She knew she must have looked pathetic, especially in his eyes, and she doubted the request would grant her anything. And with that in mind, "If you expect me to make a decision, I need time to think, and consider...this." She would have gestured to the room, as though the air retained his words, but didn't bother with the movement. She had already told him enough for whatever report he would need to give - about Lor San Tekka, R2-D2. He was already well aware he could pull more information from her whenever he pleased.

~***~

Poe’s head canted briefly at her play on his word choice, a small show of his acknowledgement. Leia had scolded him once before of his use of the word. Given her experience on the Senate herself, she learned, too, how the word managed to exclude so many.

Though he assumed she knew he meant nothing by it, he still grimaced faintly, glad that the General herself was not aboard the ship to reprimand him.

“A couple of billion lives, to save trillions more…” He didn’t disagree with the point entirely. On paper, it looked like an obvious choice. Wipe out hundreds, save thousands. Wipe out billions…

Admittedly, it made sense to him. In the event that a soldier’s life—someone who was willing to risk themselves to protect innocents—would have to be sacrificed, he knew he would allow it. He had risked himself on multiple occasions, and so had his comrades. It was what one signed up for when making the decision to join a cause like his own. A necessary part of the job.

But she wasn’t just talking about the soldiers. She was talking about the women, men, and children who had lives outside this war. The First Order and the Empire before it were willing to sacrifice innocents, and that was something that, regardless of the intentions behind it, was not so justifiable.

In more ways than one, that was more difficult a decision than “a few lives or the galaxy”, in his eyes. Especially since one miscalculation could result in tragedy. When based on misinformation, one decision would mean so many lives lost for nothing.

Her next comment, about the New Republic’s vision, managed to surprise him. He wouldn’t have expected her to go against the views so many on the Senate held, when in regards to the state of the Outer Rim, but then again...he hadn’t expected most of what he’d gotten thus far.

Before he had a chance to ask a question of his own, she followed with one about his “friend”. It distracted him for a moment, but he shook it off, “No, wait a second—I have a question for you, first. What about you? What do you think of what the New Republic wants for the Core? The people on the Outer Rim?” He wanted to know about her opinions on the First Order, but that could wait. Right now, he was curious about her position on the Senate, and where her views on its desires lie.

 

[Lucyfer]

It was too much.

It was too much in the moment to think about, even for Kylo Ren. He hadn’t brought these memories so close to the surface in so long, and the fact they still hurt? It was…surprising. He knew he should leave, he knew he should center himself. Reach out to Darth Vader and try to get a response, to be reminded of what was necessary.

But he had a duty here, as well.

A duty that seemed to be at its end, as Lee expressed the sentiment he was feeling.

He wasn’t surprised, and his gaze softened, his posture relaxed. This, he could understand. It had to be a lot for her to take in, given it was all new. He didn’t need to be in her head to be certain of that. Her voice nearly broke as she spoke, but he listened.

He had to make his report to Snoke, and he had to convince Snoke to allow her to live, to allow her to make a decision. “Very well,” he would bring this to an end, then.

He moved to fetch his mask first, and he settled that back on, “I will return later,” his voice was modulated when he spoke, the emotion lost behind the tuner. He felt stronger, at least, with that on. With all of his insecurities and vulnerabilities hidden behind it. Perhaps Lee did not feel any better to see him in that mask, but he felt immensely better.

It was easier to approach Lee and reach for her hand to put back into the shackle he had released it from earlier so she could drink. He would also reclaim that cup. She didn’t need it any longer. “I will see that food is sent your way before the day is over,” it would likely just be a nutritious paste, but it would help her to stay alive.

It was better than nothing. It might be difficult to choke down, but she would learn to ingest it. They all did. Eating standard food was viewed as soft, a waste of time that could be better spent on so many other things. Food was necessity, not pleasure.

Even many of the officers, who could eat otherwise, stuck to the basics so they wouldn’t appear soft, or having lost their touch. At least, in front of others.

~***~

Neria could see the numbers running in Poe’s head. She could see him calculating everything that was said, but it hadn’t been enough of a distraction to bring about an answer about his friend. Instead, it spurred a question from him, and she did arch a brow, “I suppose it is not enough to remind you I am from the Outer Rim, is it?”

Everyone in the Senate knew it.

Everyone in the Academy had known it – it had led to numerous fights. Herself, and the Mottis, were always looked down upon for their status as Outer Rim savages, primitives, who were only trying to mimic the Core Worlds.

“I don’t expect that you’ve watched my career, though I imagine the Princess has,” perhaps that was another reason she reached out, “In truth, I hate the Senate. I hate the Core Worlds. I hate the New Republic,” a reason the First Order looked to her, as well. “Everyone is a career politician who hasn’t been to their homes in years, as if they’re trying to avoid it, and forget their responsibilities,” not everyone.

Eriadu was in her blood.

There were others, “The few good Senators either end up executed like Senator Casterfo, or end up being non-humans and powerless, like Senator Syndulla.” Oh the jokes they had to endure about the only things twi’leks were good for. She got along rather well with the wookie Senator of Kashyyyk though that was because they had the same dark sense of humor paired with the same respect for nature. “The Senate is a glorified waste of time and money.”

It would change, though. She would make it change. If she’d learned nothing else from the Empire, it was patience. She had seen how Sheev Palpatine took over from within. While she didn’t want a return to that, she did want to start centralizing things.

It wouldn’t be in her lifetime…but this had to change. “You know what our largest debate has been? Where to host the Senate in the next circuit.” Because someone thought it was a good idea to move the Senate around. Currently, it was on Hosnian Prime. “Planets are now wasting their money to build senate houses they may never need,” Eriadu wasn’t, but plenty in the Outer Rim wanted in on that. Wanted to be seen. “This is what your great and powerful New Republic is doing. This is how it serves the people. Oh – and wasting money on monuments like the statue of Bail Organa.”

And people wondered why she kept an army. “I wonder how much of this wastefulness turned your friend to the First Order.” Might as well try to get it back to that, but she didn’t let it be an outright question this time.

 

[insensitive]

Something about the man before her seemed to relax, his eyes no longer like pointed daggers trying to cut through her soul. Though her mind felt ravaged, torn apart from the inside, some semblance of relief slid into her.

She hadn’t thought he would accept, but then again, he himself looked...tired. Worn out by the recollection of his past self. She couldn’t blame him.

All the lies she had believed, the doubt she felt that was now aimed directly at those who were once her only sense of stability, was enough to make her cave too. She didn’t know what to do, what to believe in, who to trust. If trust was something she could allow herself to value any longer. She couldn’t help but hate herself for it - not only her ignorance, but how willing she was to doubt them.

If she had believed in the rebels at all before, the revelations wouldn’t have been so effective in wedging out the unbound sense of loyalty she’d once thought herself to possess.

Or maybe that was the child talking. The part of her that was sentimental for reasons she couldn’t bear to think of. Whatever it was, it was impossible to understand now.

When the helmet clicked into place over his head, the relief was only amplified. She didn’t want to look at him anymore, or feel the weight of his gaze and all that lay behind it. His presence was only another reminder of Leia’s lies. How little of her trust it Lee had managed to earn.

“I will return later,” but not even the amount of time she had to herself was certain. She hoped it would be long enough to collect her thoughts, understand where she stood, but that was likely too much to ask for. All she wanted was to be alone.

And yet, the throbbing pain in her left arm resurfaced to claim otherwise.

“And what about this,” she said, her voice showing as much resignation as her eyes. She didn’t look up at him as he walked forward, retrieving the cup from her hand. Instead, she shifted her upper-arm against the metal bonds as a gesture, simultaneously fighting against the urge to wince and shrink back into the chair.

~***~

Poe was aware of her home-world’s position on the Outer Rim, and the position she must have ended up in as a result. Among a board of senators who lived and breathed the wants and ideals of the Core worlds, he could only assume the difficulty she likely faced, simply by having emerged from Eriadu.

But he also knew that some on the Senate were known for using whatever power they could grasp at as an escape mechanism. A means of avoiding their own truths.

To his relief, she expressed the same awareness, as well as a hatred for the Senate.

She was correct in her assumption that he hadn’t examined her career under a microscope, though he imagined he knew plenty about her for what they were required to do. The rest could be learned. Though he wasn’t all that interested in senators and their squabbles, however, he wasn’t completely ignorant when it came to the New Republic’s objectives. Those of importance, he was either informed of through his own research, or through Leia or other officers.

Leia herself knew much more about Neria than he, though he was not sure how much exactly.

Poe could empathize rather greatly with her hatred for how the Senate spent its time, as well as its money and resources; monuments of Bail Organa and others, regardless of their importance, weren’t needed at all. What was needed was change. A difference in the way the galaxy was being run. It was something he himself was trying to bring, something Leia was trying to bring.

Change was the only way they were going to fix things. Wars had broken out, wars were still breaking out, as a result of greed and power-hungry officials, and somehow those attempting to rule the galaxy had yet to learn from the destruction. So it brought a small, genuine smile to his face when she voiced her own distaste.

Perhaps the General had been right about seeking Neria Tarkin out, after all. At the very least, she shared some of the same sentiments.

The smile diminished when the subject of his “friend” was brought up once more, but this time, he didn’t bother to avoid the question. Though she chose to hide it behind her opinions, he could still sense her curiosity. “I couldn’t tell you what turned him if I wanted to,” he didn’t know. He wanted to, of course; to understand Ben’s - Kylo’s logic for joining the First Order. Leia told Poe about his fate, but nothing else. Not his reasoning for it. And though he could assume it must have had something to do with what occurred when under Luke’s teachings, Poe abandoned his attempts at understanding long ago.

Maybe that was a result of ignorance, but he was a rebel through-and-through. A stubborn one, at that. He found no flaw in being unable to understand those among the First Order.

Still, he’d spent plenty of his time on the subject of it. Ben Solo, his turn to something darker, something unrecognizable - this Kylo Ren that Poe had once thought to be a facade was now nothing less than the man’s identity. It replaced memories of the two playing, training, with something bitter.

“But you look just as curious about it as I used to be,” Poe noted, his brow quirking some at her. “You haven’t given me much to work with, your opinions on the First Order. A guy can only assume so much,” without being completely ignorant, that was.

 

[Lucyfer]

There was no struggle left in Lee as he came forward to move her arm and take the cup from her. That did surprise him a little. He half-expected as the realization she was going to be shackled in the room set in, she would struggle. Instead, she only seemed more defeated. The crushing weight of all she had thought she knew had likely overcome thoughts of struggling.

That, and the pain of her wounds, which Kylo had ignored.

He was used to just dealing with the wounds he received. Pain was a lesson. He had to be stronger than his pain, and make use of his pain.

He tended to forget others weren’t taught in those ways. Confusion crossed his expression as she mentioned them, not registering that she was speaking of her wounds at first. Then, understanding hit him, and he looked her over once more.

“I will see about having a medical droid sent here,” he stated to that, “if you continue not to show any signs of a struggle, I may be able to have clean garments brought up, as well,” if Snoke would allow her to live. If she continued to behave. He knew there’d be no way to talk anyone into sending a spare outfit up to her if she acted out or caused any damage.

They’d rather she suffer and face discomfort in the clothing she wore for any negative reactions she had to her imprisonment.

Perhaps he should ask about sizes, but he would just bring a few things he knew would be a bit on the larger side if the droid didn’t take the measurements when it was in here. Medical droids tended to take down a lot of information fairly quickly while in the process of tending to their patients. He had been annoyed with that early on. Now he just accepted it.

“Anything else?” he asked sardonically, wondering if she would try to ask for more after mentioning her wounds, or if she would now rest into her situation, and think over all that she had just been told, and try to figure out where she wanted to be.

He hoped she would choose right.

He hoped she would choose the First Order and the Knights of Ren, after all of this, but he didn’t know if this was enough – or if her resolve was that strong. It hadn’t seemed that way, but he also hadn’t gone too deep in her mind.

Admittedly, there was still more he needed from her, but he had to show some mercy if he hoped to see her come over to this side. Snoke might not agree with that, but perhaps Snoke wouldn’t search is own mind for that incriminating information. ‘He won’t need to.’ When Kylo confessed he didn’t know where the rebel base was, Snoke would know he’d been…lenient.

~***~

Poe did not speak to her hatred of the Senate. She half-expected he might support it, and what it was doing, even if Leia had chosen him. Neria was fairly certain that most with Leia supported the New Republic, even if it had disenfranchised their leader, the self-proclaimed General of the Resistance.

Not that she wasn’t worthy of the title, but rather like Armitage Hux, Neria had little reason to consider either of them by the title.

She did, after all, have to pretend she accepted New Republic authority.

Until she didn’t.

His smile said enough, and the way it faltered also indicated his unwillingness to talk of his friend. Perhaps it was a sore subject. ‘No perhaps about that.’ The fact he didn’t know said as much. Unknowns were always troublesome. The lack of closure left deep wounds that made someone a risk; wounds like that could open only too easily, and Neria made a note of it. She didn’t ask the identity of his friend, but she would want to find out later.

She gave a nod at his question of her opinion on the First Order. She liked to leave those things vague, because she hadn’t decided on the First Order. “I know the troubles they cause, to some extent. I know their logic – how they want to save the galaxy from itself. I was raised in that logic,” and other logic, “their xenophobia and distaste for aliens is a bit of a turn-off, and I cannot say I agree with their continued use of slavery and brainwashing. In theory, of course, all of that would change once they have the galaxy under their rule, but that’s just a nice way of saying it won’t be necessary because everyone will undergo the same education and be brainwashed that way.”

The First Order had potential, though, and Neria would admit that. Their systems weren’t in place yet. Things could be arranged, altered, and constructed. In the wastes of the New Republic, there would be opportunity to rebuild without the old structures hindering things.

“There’s potential in wiping the slate clean, and creating something more…centralized.” That much, she would say. “Whether or not the sacrifices would be worth it is another matter entirely. If it were just Armitage Hux at the helm, I might think it worthwhile, however he’s fallen prey to Snoke and his Knights of Ren – not a very friendly group if the Ewoks are to be believed– and it’s hard to trust anyone who’s working with someone akin to the Emperor.”

Powerful dark side force users. Not that Neria was any more a fan of those who used the light side, for that matter. The Force had the power to corrupt the mind. It was hardly trustworthy. “But then again, the future under the Resistance means X-Wings and Mon Calamari ships…and to be frank, TIEs and Destroyers are far superior.”

Given this was a flyboy, she was expecting him to accept the change in topics fairly easily and defend the dignity of the X-Wing to the death.
Uh

 

[insensitive]

Lee awaited a response, watching his mask through the corner of her eye as though it would give some indication as to what he was feeling. When it took a noticeable moments longer than she’d thought for him to answer, her brow quirked the faintest bit, but she quickly redacted the expression.

'Was he expecting me to be content with bleeding out all over the floor?' She didn’t know, but it didn’t matter anyway. He was being more compliant now with her requests, which was relieving on its own. At least she would be permitted some time alone to think.

And, hey, he was even considering throwing in clean clothes, too. If she behaved. If she found the decency not to be angry at the situation, his inability to understand the value held in lives, her limited number of choices - join or die, essentially, so there wasn’t much of a choice at all. If she held back the anger she felt at him.

How generous of him.

It was the least he could do after kidnapping her.

The realization of what that would mean suddenly swept over her. Though she was careful not to let it show too much through her expression, there was no avoiding what “clean garments” meant.

No longer wearing her Resistance uniform. No longer being able to express her nature through something as simple as clothing.

But then, she didn’t know what she could claim about her nature anymore. And regardless of what she wanted, what she felt, there was no way that wandering around a First Order ship in a Resistance uniform was going to speak well for her to those in higher positions of power. It would only make her time worse here, provided she chose to accept his offer, if she continued to cling to the rebels’ ideals.

What was more than that, it would only make her time in figuring out the truth harder.

“Anything else?” Mask or not, the sarcasm in his voice went right through. She lifted her eyes to the mask, for once taking the time to examine the thing. Its slight, silver ridges below where she assumed his eyes would be staring behind - a narrowed, black slate he would only be capable of seeing through from inside. The small holes and dents which sloped down to his jawline, then around toward the back of his head. All the while, her own gaze communicating more than any words could say.

No. No, she didn’t want to be treated like a child. No, she didn’t want to be looked down upon as though she was wrong or somehow misguided in choosing that the lives of innocents were more important than whatever objective his cause hoped to achieve.

But she didn’t say that. “No,” as plainly as she could manage, before turning her eyes away.

~***~

Poe could understand the prospect of “saving the galaxy from itself”. But that hardly meant that a force of already-corrupt officers in positions of power, the two most notable among them Force-users - and that was excluding the Knights of Ren - was the side which deserved to come out of such destruction.

Like she noted, there was potential to the ideology, but the question of whether or not the abundance of sacrifices would be worth it was also something he could agree with. Perhaps, if the First Order’s methods to brainwash and slaughter, in addition to their obvious discrimination against so many of the other races which occupied the galaxy, were not part of their practices or their goals for the future, it might be easier to see their side of things.

He, for one, could not entirely disagree with the view that one life for the sake of many more was wrong. That was part of being a soldier, a Commander. If he was to be of any use in the Resistance’s efforts to purify the galaxy of those who sought to destroy such a majority of those within it, he could not do that sitting idly by, and neither could the soldiers he was responsible for.

He was more than willing to sacrifice his own life before those of his comrades, in the case that such a choice was possible. Some might have been inclined to view it as the foolish ways of a martyr, but he saw it as a sort of freedom. Freedom from the greed of those whom he’d operated under throughout his years - some from his earlier days, members of the New Republic.

As for Hux, he didn’t know the General for being a pleasant man. But perhaps if his mind hadn’t been clouded by those above him, he may have had the potential for good. Poe would never know that, of course, and he wasn’t about to mentally indulge that possibility given everything he’d witnessed over the years.

Her comment, albeit most likely made in a joking manner, made his brow raise some. His eyes shifted to hers again, his lip curled into an expectant smile. “Oh yeah? Why’s that, fly-girl?” He wasn’t about to doubt her knowledge of ships, considering the one they were aboard, but that didn’t mean he was going to let the challenge slide by either.

More than that, he was genuinely interested in the response.

“X-wings are far more durable than TIEs. And, not to mention, well-armed.” With a good pilot, and he was exactly that, an X-wings few shortcomings would be nothing. Of course, TIEs were known to be extremely mobile, their maneuvering abilities were likely superior to that of an X-wing, and that could have its advantages. But for a Rebellion, there was no question as to which was superior.

 

[Lucyfer]

No.

Kylo had expected that answer. He even expected the way it came out of her lips after his own sarcasm seeped into the syllables of his own question. He stepped away as the arm was locked back into place, noting how her gaze fell from him once again, no longer examining his mask as if it were a face.

He offered nothing before striding out, though he did pause once the door shut behind him to turn to the Stormtrooper, “See to it that a medical droid is ordered here and allowed to tend to the prisoner. I will send another guard to be stationed here during that time,” just in case Lee didn’t heed his suggestion to behave.

“Are we not done with the prisoner?” The voice was not the Stormtrooper’s, but Hux, and Kylo turned to face him, surprised he didn’t recognize his presence.

At least it wouldn’t show. “No, we aren’t,” he said, “I am going to speak to Supreme Leader Snoke in regards to her.”

“Excellent. I’ll join you.”

Kylo seethed, but said nothing against it. Snoke may dismiss Hux when the conversation turned to the more important matters of the Force. At least, Kylo could hope he would. “Relay his commands,” Hux added to the Trooper, as if Kylo’s own words weren’t enough. He swallowed down that bitter hatred as the Trooper acted on his word.

The Stormtroopers were more loyal to Hux. Kylo knew this. He was seen as an outsider more than one within the ranks. It still rankled. He knew his command would have been followed. Likely when he left the area. Hux’s word was jumped on.

He didn’t speak to that, but walked off, letting Hux follow in his steps. The General’s own pace hastened to match his longer strides. “What have you found out? Is she with the Resistance?”

“Yes,” Kylo said that much, “You’ll be briefed along with Snoke.” He determined, turning the corner that would lead them towards the auditorium where Snoke was usually met. If he deigned it appropriate to meet with them. He rarely declined. He seemed to always be ready, poised in his throne.

Of course, he didn’t get out much now. Movement hurt his old, decrepit form. It was a wonder he hadn’t turned his throne into something more mobile.

Another corner, and they were before the double doors to enter the domain of Snoke. Kylo walked all the way to the end of the room, though Armitage paused at their usual point. He put a code in, and then strode back, making it just in time to be with Armitage when the looming hologram of the Supreme Leader appeared before them.


Within the room, FN-2187 was picked for escort duty of the black droid which reminded him too much of an IT-0 interrogator droid model. He knew it wasn’t, it was just a simple medical droid, but that didn’t take away from its threatening looks. It was a black orb with metal tendrils coming out of it that looked less like helpful hands and more like things that would poke you.

He gave a nod to the Stormtrooper on duty, who returned it, and opened the door to let FN-2187 and the droid through, to see to the prisoner.

The droid would move right on its own to her, and FN-2187 would move into his watchful position along the wall in front of the prisoner.

~***~

There was a flicker of confusion across Neria’s face at the address. Her brows furrowed, as for a moment she debated whether Poe was mocking her, or teasing her, with the nickname. It became clear by the other cues that it was just teasing, but it was certainly…unexpected. She wouldn’t claim it as bad. She wasn’t insisting anyone stand on formality here.

Stars knew how tiresome that was – but few dropped to such play so soon.

In a way, that made it all the more welcome. Neria had always preferred those who dared, which was, likely, why she preferred TIEs. “You haven’t flown a TIE Defender, I see,” she smirked, “but even so, the standard TIE is superior to the X-Wing. True, it doesn’t have the durability, but I believe the goal in most fights is not to get hit?”

Not that she hadn’t taken the first hit multiple times, rather than avoid it, so she’d have a reason to fight back.

“The maneuverability of the TIE allows for more precision than an X-Wing does, so it aids in not getting one hit – in the right hands,” obviously, not everyone was skilled enough at handling them. “The repulsorlift cyclers in the wings were a genius addition to their design for those maneuvers, as well, and their fire power is just as good, if not as varied, as that of an X-Wing,” a slight smirk, “You don’t fix what isn’t broken, just improve it. The TIEs now in production can knock out most of your X-Wing shields in a shot.”

Ah, Foslo. He was a genius at engineering. “I’ll give the X-Wing its credit. It does have shields on the standard model, and a wider array of options for different foes. You can even hit lightspeed, but when it comes to dogfighting, put pilots of the same skill in those ships, and the TIE wins every time. Shields only last so long. The TIE scream is eternal.”

Nothing quite beat the sound a TIE made when it was streaking overhead. It was absolutely horrible and wondrous at once.

Still, she gestured, “But go on – defend the X-Wing. I admit I’m not as up to speed on their development as I am TIE models. I don’t tend to buy X-Wings.” It was possible they had improved, just as well. She didn’t pay too much attention to them – nor Y-Wings and A-Wings. Mon Calamari ships were still of interest, though.

 

[insensitive]

She watched him as best she could through the corner of her eye, before he was gone entirely from view and disappeared somewhere behind her. That was only more unsettling than being able to see him, but once the door slid shut and a certain, still silence filled the room, her limbs relaxed.

She hadn’t noticed the tension she’d felt before, but it was difficult not to once it left her. She released a slow, almost shaky breath, closing her eyes as to relieve some of the stinging within them.

There were no tears, not now. Even if she wanted to, it would have been impossible. But she didn’t want to. Despite the pain, the physical presence of it in her left arm and that which curled inside her stomach as a result of the emotional, the last thing Lee wanted was to feel weak.

Already, she felt betrayed. Not only by Leia and her lies - her ability to withhold information as important as Lee’s own sensitivity to the Force, and that was only a part of it - but by the Resistance as well. Despite herself and all that she’d been taught, Ren wasn’t entirely mistaken in his beliefs.

They were chaotic. They were unorganized. That showed in how little she knew about so much.

More than anything, however, it felt like she’d betrayed herself. Her father. His legacy. So quickly, she was able to look at the General as though she were someone else. Some kind of fraud. After all, her intentions were not what she claimed them to be. She lied about so much, kept so much out of reach, and for what? To keep those around her safe?

Safety was impossible when those meant to provide it were uninformed.


Lee jolted awake at the sound of the door whooshing open behind her.

She didn’t remember falling asleep. Then again, she’d been tired ever since boarding the ship. And what with Ren’s efforts to pry information from her head, most of them successful, it wasn’t surprising that she’d slipped into unconsciousness, even if only for a few minutes.

It didn’t feel like a few minutes, though; every one of her limbs ached more than before. The pain in her head, at least, had lessened to no more than a minor ache in her temples

She blinked a few times, narrowing her eyes against the hazy film of sleep whilst she attempted to get a clear look at the wall across from her. But before she could do so much as that, movement of something dark and circular caught her eyes. They darted to the left, her body jerking away from whatever it was, but an immediate pain flared up within her left arm and she was reminded of the injury. Far less painful, now, and not nearly enough for her to ease closer to the thing approaching her.

Her eyes, now wide enough to more clearly see that it was a medical droid, softened significantly. It looked much like an interrogator, she noted, but there were some slight differences that allowed her to - albeit cautiously - relax back into the chair. Long, coiling tendrils extended from its body and toward her arm, at which point she resolved to simply staring at the thing.

She would have been a fool to trust these people, but she’d been given no reason (yet) not to think Ren wouldn’t keep his word.

So, in other words, struggling against the thing if its intentions weren't to her benefit would be pointless. And worse for her in the long run.

Eventually, awareness crept its way up her spine, and she glanced to the wall directly before her. There, standing stiffly, was yet another stormtrooper.

Wonderful.

Lee’s eyes narrowed some, but not so much at him as a result of the prickling sensation from the droid’s efforts. Instead, she watched the guard with only a hint of suspicion, focusing more of her attention on keeping her arm still as the droid began its poking and prodding at her injury.

“You going to watch the whole time?” she asked, hoarse, but not as sarcastic as the question should have sounded.

~***~

The familiar joy of conversation set in as Poe listened to her reasoning for preferring TIEs. This was natural for him, as many among the Resistance had different minds and different ways of interpreting the same ideals, so arguments - fair, playful ones, mostly - weren’t uncommon. But this was different than one of those. This was about ships and their uses, the way they complemented the respective sides of the war, the way they could allow one a glimpse into another’s thought process just by knowing their preferences.

It was hardly something he’d expected to engage in with someone on the Senate, but he would take the chance to learn about her and TIE fighters in whatever way presented to him. So, naturally, he was already invested in his defense.

It was unsurprising that she would prefer TIEs, he realized, as she went into her explanations. She seemed like the type that would appreciate a good, competitive space-fight, which he respected. He himself enjoyed them, though his version of one, given his place in the Resistance and as an X-wing pilot, was likely quite different than hers. He didn’t just get himself in the occasional dogfight, though he could admit TIEs were superior at that. More often than not, he found himself on the defense against the larger ships.

Now that, he could confidently say, he and his ship were exceptional at.

“The goal of a fight is winning,” he said. “I’ll give it to your TIEs, they’re great at dogfighting,” on more than one occasion he’d had to defend himself against them, and given their incredible maneuverability, it was never an easy feat. And, yes, a TIE scream was both enough to marvel at, and fear. “But X-wings aren’t useless up-close, either. They’re more equipped to deal with farther targets, and the censors on the things are incredible, but the right pilot can hold their own against any starship - whether that’s a TIE, or something bigger.”

Given the use of laser cannons and proton torpedo launchers, he knew X-wings to be superior at dealing damage. “I’m not as familiar with the upgraded TIEs but what I can say about an X-wing is that, when dealing with a larger ship, they’re more capable, and their shields lend an obvious advantage. Fighters might be cheaper to manufacture and, as a result, easier to produce more of for the sake of overwhelming their targets. But X-wings are more independent. They’re equipped with enough that, on their own, pilots are able to make quick escapes,” in the Resistance, hyperdrives were incredibly useful. Given the fact that the Rebels were fewer than those in the First Order, survivability was valued - not only in terms of the pilot, but the ship, as well.

Admittedly, he wasn’t opposed to trying out a TIE. “All that aside, I’d still like to try out a fighter. There’s a lot you could do with that kind of maneuverability.”

 

[Lucyfer]

Snoke was imposing in the hologram, Kylo reflected, more than he was in person. He was larger, and looked almost a phantom with the eerie blue glow that caused Kylo to nearly forget he was, in fact, in a golden robe and relaxed on his throne. The slippers he wore couldn’t be seen in the hologram. It knew where to cut off to hide all evidence of Snoke’s problems.

From his knee, Kylo addressed the hologram, “Supreme Leader,” Kylo spoke. “We have returned from Iridonia with a prisoner of the Resistance. She knows General Organa. She knows that a part of the map to Luke Skywalker is being kept with the droid, R2-D2, and she is attuned to the Force – with doubts.”

Snoke tilted his head slightly, “With doubts,” he echoed, “Did she tell you that herself?”

Kylo hesitated a moment, “Her actions have suggested it. She told me much of the information before I took it from her mind, and she has seen how the Resistance has lied to her.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. “And did she tell you where we can find this droid?”

Snoke seemed to be wondering the same thing.

“No – but I know she will. I know I will get that information.”

The noise Hux made was grating, the huff of exasperation. “Supreme Leader, if you’ll allow me, I can have the information extracted from this scum in less than a day.”

“No!” Kylo immediately said.

“The information she has is valuable, if she knows where the rebel base is, we can be done with them, and have a clue to this Luke Skywalker as well.” He never took the threat of Luke seriously.

Snoke asked, “What would you rather be done, Kylo?” His voice boomed through the chamber.

“Let me convince her to join us. Let me convince her to provide the information freely. She’s not been trained in the Force…she has no teachings in the light, or the dark. She’s still young, still malleable.”

Hux’s irritation could be felt. “This is a waste of time, Supreme Leader.” The information was right there for them to take. They should just do it and be done with this!

Snoke regarded both for a few seconds longer, “It’s only a part of the map,” he said, “we need the entire map. You have until we find that, or until the situation changes, Ren. General,” he addressed him, “continue to hunt down leads for the map to Skywalker.”

Hux managed not to spit anything else out about it being a waste of time. “Yes, Supreme Leader.” He turned on his heel almost too quick, and Kylo waited. He knew he hadn’t been dismissed just yet.

When Hux left them, Snoke’s look almost became chiding, “Why this one, Ren?”

“It’s as I said, Supreme Leader. She has already been cooperative, and I can sense the potential in her. There is no reason to limit the numbers of the Knights of Ren to only Luke’s former padawans.”

“Perhaps,” Snoke allowed, but it wasn’t an answer. Kylo had the sinking suspicion that Snoke thought otherwise, that this was going to go badly. “Keep me informed of her progress, my apprentice.”

“I will,” Kylo rose from his knee, and waited until the hologram faded to move.

~***~

FN-2187 was jolted out of his thoughts by the prisoner speaking to him. He focused his gaze on the woman, though behind the black visor she likely didn’t notice that adjustment. He didn’t really move his head much. As the droid worked on her, he gave a bit of a helpless shrug. “It’s the job.”

He probably wasn’t supposed to speak with her.

That was definitely not part of the job. Phasma might be angry with him for engaging a prisoner in conversation. It was that thought which caused him to stiffen back up, and eye the droid a bit. He never liked undergoing medical treatment.

At least he hadn’t yet been in real combat. He didn’t need to worry about that. Yet.

The droid beeped out some information that he tried to understand, but he couldn’t. His head canted a bit, “You talking to me?”

The droid beeped something else. He couldn’t tell if it was affirmative or negative. Thankfully for him, it was negative. The droid had just been noting a few things for its records, recorded rather than simply encrypted as 0’s and 1’s.

~***~

Neria’s grin widened a touch as Poe did do just that – defend the X-Wing, showcase it perks. It wasn’t as cheap as the standard TIE, that was true, and understandably so given who tended to operate them. The X-Wing had been standard to the Rebellion and perhaps Leia’s Resistance, because they needed to make sure their pilots escaped. They didn’t have so many to throw at the enemy, so defense and the ability to escape were a necessity of the way they engaged in war.

“It’s true, a TIE away from a capital ship or planet doesn’t stand to last long in space on its own or get far. They’re also not as likely to destroy the shields of anything more than a single-fighter – at least not with the same ease of the X-Wing,” she could give him that, after all.

She recognized that. She had to, in order to create strategies using the TIE. “However, the right pilot can still maneuver them close to large ships and take out surface cannons and the like without suffering, and that can be the difference between victory and loss. It’s not as easy for an X-Wing to do – not that it’s impossible, and the X-Wing could at least take a hit or two before faltering.”

The TIE was dead after that first hit. “In situations against a dreadnaught or a destroyer, I admit, I would hate to be in a TIE, unless it was a Defender or a stealth model. I suppose that’s why I have my corvette,” this ship, “Perhaps when all is said and done, I’ll let you try out a defender. Still no hyperdrive,” that still seemed pointless to the strategy and usage of them, “but it moves like any other TIE and has shields.”

The stealth models were not widely dispersed enough. It was mostly between herself and a few others who were still testing them to work out the kinks with their designs under Motti’s engineering crew. They knew it was possible, but getting everything to function with stygium crystals wasn’t easy. Stygium and kohlen crystals both liked to be difficult – kohlen absolutely refused to work with kyber, which was the basis of most of their large weapons, but it’s shielding capabilities were impressive against kyber weapons.

“Grand Admiral Mitth’raw’nuroudo came up with them, but they were never mass produced. Most of the funding went elsewhere,” into the black pit that was the Death Star. “But the plans were with other things in the Tarkin Initiative,” like other, horrible, weapons. Wilhuff had been good at collecting his own library of designs, and he had liked the defenders. He had wanted funding to go to them, if only to spite Krennic, but it was a gambit he lost.

The Krennic family still annoyed her at times with their insistence on her returning ‘copyright’ material. As if. They would never bring it to the Senate, or to a judge, so it wasn’t a worry.

 

[insensitive]

For a moment there was the strange feeling that something else, albeit unknown to her, was present on the ship.

It was a faint feeling, not noticeable enough for her to consciously note it. But there was a new weight within her - close, but somehow still so far away.

The trooper’s response to her question pulled her from it rather quickly.

‘It’s the job?’ she thought to herself, something akin to amusement touching her expression before it disappeared entirely at the droid’s suddenly cold, piercing scrape against her arm.

Lee’s lip pulled into a sour frown, her body flinching against the chair whilst she turned her gaze to the droid. For a few moments as it worked, she held her curiosity back, not sure whether or not she wanted to see what exactly it was doing. But when it beeped out a string of words she could not understand, she found herself staring at the injury.

The droid’s limbs tore away at the fabric of her sleeve, assessing the gash carefully whilst poking at random bits of her flesh. It seemed to be preparing to patch it up, but she couldn’t place what it was doing in that moment.

The stormtrooper in front of her, it seemed, shared her confusion. His question to the droid earned no more than another string of robotic syllables.

“What is it doing?” she asked dumbly, before realizing how many ways the question could be interpreted. She understood how most droids worked, so how she hadn’t automatically assumed whatever information could be recorded of her would before, she didn’t know. “What information is it supposed to record?” biological records, no doubt. She hadn’t given up her full name, but if anything the droid noted could somehow incriminate her further, she would have to be all the more careful.

She glanced over at the trooper, wondering if he would be so nonchalant in giving a response for a second time. Given his first statement, he seemed significantly less intimidating than she was sure he was trained to be.

~***~

It was true, given their significant difference in speed and mobility, TIEs were able to more easily get close to a larger vessel in order to take out surface weapons and such. But, as she would continue to say, it was also not impossible to a pilot of an X-wing - he himself could be a testament to that fact.

Then again, he was biased, and accustomed to the Black One. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d flown another X-wing. One modification he’d made to his T-70 made it a tad superior to any of the Resistance’s standard models, in terms of the ability to evade missiles when needed.

The concept of a stealth-fighter intrigued him, and he assumed the modifications where Defender models were concerned would be limited to little other than the presence of shields. Which she confirmed, along with the possibility of him finally being able to get his hands on one for a fly-around.

“I’d like that,” he remarked, before she delved into the inventor of the modified model. He assumed that “elsewhere”, regarding the funding, was code for the Empire. “Both ships are capable, in their own rights,” and for the respective uses of which they were manufactured for. Neria, he figured, was well-aware of that.

He quirked a brow at her, considering his words a moment. “So, the fascination with ships must be a kind of family thing, huh?” kind-of, because of the fact that, rather than being born to Wilhuff himself, she was from the line of Jova Tarkin. Wilhuff, as far as Poe knew, had been one for ships.

He wasn’t sure yet if the topic of family would be a sensitive one for her. He knew enough of her history to understand that a good amount of her family members had already faced their demise.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons she had grown to like Terex. Poe felt a pang of something like guilt in his gut, at that.

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187 just shook his head at the question, “I don’t know,” he hadn’t ever been taught any language but ‘basic’. Other languages were unnecessary in Phasma’s opinion, despite the fact they all had to deal with droids every single day. Even the mouse droids, and the First Order Security Bureau’s BB-Units, those creepy black things that rolled around.

If he thought about it, all the droids in the First Order were black.

“I was just told to escort it here, and make sure you didn’t, you know…try to escape?” That felt stupid to say that, “I wasn’t told to do anything about the droid…I think it knows its job.” Probably.

The droid beeped out confirmation of that, as it would begin going about the process of patching up the wound, bringing the flesh together with quick stitches, to put bacta over it to encourage growth and lessen the scar damage as much as possible.

FN-2187 wouldn’t move to stop it. “I didn’t hear any orders for it to harm you, anyway,” he didn’t know if that would be a comfort or not. He clearly wasn’t showing himself as the most well-informed, but then again, Stormtroopers weren’t meant to be that. They were pawns in the game, soldiers in the game – but it was meant to be for something better than the galaxy was right now.

He had to believe in that, even if he hadn’t seen much of the galaxy outside of the ships for himself. Not besides a trash heap when he got duty to escort a trash barge out from the Order. “I mean, I heard orders to have food brought to you when the droid was done, so I don’t think it’s going to really hurt you. They’re just kind of…weird.” He offered a shrug, knowing he wasn’t doing a good job at explaining.

Or reassuring. ‘Why are you reassuring a prisoner?’ Right. He straightened back up, tried to regain his poise, unaware he really didn’t look intimidating even standing up straight, after all his earlier comments.

At least the droid continued to do its work, beeping out some insult at FN-2187’s lack of understanding.

~***~

Neria liked to imagine that after this mission, finding Terex, learning who had her friend killed, and executing them, there might be a moment to bring Dameron to Eriadu and let him try out a Defender. Of course, that might not be the case, and it would have to be saved for another day. At least for the moment, it was good to see he wasn’t wholly against TIEs, given the side of the war they had been on long ago.

His query was another interesting thing.

Few broached the topic of her family. Her family was notable, of course, beyond Wilhuff – but in this modern era, that was all anyone considered. Wilhuff. The Death Star. Her family’s name was synonymous with ‘war criminals’ and ‘genocide’.

She hummed a moment, thinking through his query. Jova had not cared at all for ships, but he had cared quite a bit about image. ‘Live like a beast….’ Oh how many wise words he had that boiled down to understanding necessity, and making sure to protect needs, above all else. Flash was more Wilhuff, but flash had worked. Wilhuff showed his colors like a venomous snake.

Her own father had not been so colorful, blending rather than standing out, but he had made use of the Executrix into his own flagship, a flagship that Neria had inherited and used, not touching the name. She preferred her corvette to her destroyer, rather like Wilhuff. “In a way, you’re correct,” she said, not quite certain how to put it into words, “My family concerns itself with the trappings of power. Some of us have seen that power in starships and technology – myself, and the late Wilhuff,” some said she had more in common with Wilhuff than Jova. Her friend suggested it was due to astrology – she was born the day after Wilhuff.

She’d just laughed off that silly notion, even if she couldn’t argue there were some similarities.

It was not something she could argue. She did not elect to stay in the Carrion Plateau like her cousin, after all. “Not that my father was wholly negligent of this, the destroyer Executrix forms the base of my own destroyer, but my father was not so concerned with war while he lived.” Perhaps he would be, if he had survived the assassin. “Why? Does your love of starships come from your own family?” Perhaps that was all it was – noticing a trend.

 

[insensitive]

“I don’t know.”

Helpful. Though she couldn’t necessarily hold his lack of understanding against him. She’d picked up a few things over her years with the Resistance in the way of droidspeak - “binary” being the more formal term - but the only droid she was commonly around was Poe’s astromech droid, BB-8.

She glanced at the droid again, relaxing only a little once it finally began the “healing” part of its job. She was sure it had taken a blood sample, but beyond that, she didn’t know precisely what else.

Lee looked over at the stormtrooper, brow quirking some as he continued to speak. Something told her he wasn’t commonly stationed to watch prisoners.

‘Like escaping would even be possible.’ Even the way he said it suggested he felt the same way she did. Ren was serious about this whole “struggling” thing. She wondered for a moment how much of a mark it would be against each other, should she even try.

Best not find out. Either way, she hadn’t planned to.

It became amusing once again, how willing the man was to converse with her. That was enough to confirm his lack of experience, but she didn’t mind it at all. He was just lucky he hadn’t ended up with someone more willing to push their luck with escaping.

Someone whose life hadn’t been controlled by a series of lies.

‘I wonder if he’s killed anyone.’ Yet. He was a stormtrooper, all of them did at some point. Eventually, he would be killing those on the side of the Rebels.

It made her stomach knot, her uncertainty at whether or not meeting him on the field when that day came would be a possibility again. Regardless of the choice she made.

Lee grimaced against the first few stitches, the following jelly-like sensation of bacta being applied to her skin a cool comfort. “I would certainly hope it knows its job,” she said, raising a brow. Then she remembered herself. ‘Why am I talking to a stormtrooper?’

“They’re just kind of...weird,” he commented, which nearly pulled her lip into a grim smile. Unable to help herself, “The droids, or the people?” if they could even be referred to as such. From what she knew of the “way of life” in the First Order, it was that everything was strict. Everything happened with the expectation that it would be exact and precise, done with little to no emotional input.

Perhaps that made things more efficient. But in her eyes, it made things pointless. It wasn’t life, it was only duty.

~***~

He wasn’t unaware of her family’s attraction to power, all that it was capable of granting. That could be seen in many things Wilhuff had done - even the destruction of Alderaan, perhaps. He didn’t know much about Neria’s relationship with her own father, but judging by ships alone, he could see the similarities.

If the ship they were currently in was anything to go by, as well as the amount of knowledge he was learning she possessed about TIEs, both had an admiration for starships.

When her question shifted the subject of family onto his own, he paused, his eyes wandering to the stars streaking past outside the window. His memories, in terms of family, weren’t bitter ones. In fact, he remembered his mother fondly, even though her death had left a hole within him that took so many years to fill.

Every once in awhile, it caught up with him still.

“Yes. My mother - she was a pilot. One of the best, I think. Her name was Shara Bey,” he was biased, of course, but from the stories he’d heard...he didn’t doubt it must have been the truth, if not at least close to it. “She flew an A-wing, though,” he recollected with a slight smirk.

Both his parents, he remembered, had been gone for much of his childhood. Off fighting for the war. For much of that time it had bothered him, but he’d come to understand why in time. ‘People were hurting,’ she’d said to him, the last occasion he’d questioned it, ‘People were suffering. Your father and I couldn’t sit and do nothing.’

Even now, he remembered those words. He remembered both her and his father with pride and respect, nothing less. “Both my parents were members of the Alliance to Restore the Republic,” his views being molded by their own in the process, “My mother was the first to teach me to control a ship. When I was six, she would take me up into this RZ-1 A-wing interceptor, and I would sit on her lap while she showed me where everything was, how it all worked.” The memory made him smile, but it was sorrow that crossed his expression. “I was eight when she died. A Rebel pilot she worked with stepped in to help raise me,” L’ulo L’ampar, who was like family to him ever since.

“I went on to join the New Republic Defense Fleet eventually, but you probably know how that ended up,” he canted his head a bit, attempting to make light of the situation. His mother had done more than he ever thought capable of a pilot. At one point, she’d assisted Skywalker himself in retrieving fragments of a Great Tree from the Empire, on Vetine.

He wondered, if she’d lived, whether or not she would look at him with so much pride.

“Tell you what,” he said, switching back to the previous subject, “you let me fly around in a TIE Defender and I’ll let you take a shot at the Black One, deal? It’s my own, personal X-wing,” the biggest difference being the color, of course. Where other X-wings were white in color, his was painted black.

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187 hoped the droid knew its job, too, or he might end up in trouble. He wasn’t sure how, but he had ended up in trouble for less. He still observed her reactions out of the corner of his eye, trying to watch the droid over her, until she queried him – following his statement about people or droids.

He shouldn’t answer.

He should be silent and stoic.

“Well, I meant the droid,” he noted, “all droids,” he didn’t really understand them, after all, “especially the mouse droids.” Slip in the FN crew had heard about mouse droid races. He couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why anyone would be interested in mouse droid races, or anything at all to do with mouse droids, but Slip was. He talked about going to see the races one day. Painting racing stripes on one of the droids.

That would get him put on bathroom duty for the rest of his life when Phasma found out.

Thinking of Phasma, “Some of the people, too.” Phasma was weird. No one knew where she came from, or how she got to where she was. She was almost like this eternal figure of the First Order. FN-2187 knew that couldn’t be true, but she was weird. Different from the rest of them, anyways.

Hesitantly, he decided to ask, “You’re with the Resistance…right?” He had been taught it was full of monsters, of course. People who wanted anarchy and no rules whatsoever, “Why?” That was blurted, almost too quickly.

The droid beeped something about its disapproval for the questioning, and conversation, but obviously FN-2187 didn’t understand, so he couldn’t be deterred by its judgment – if he was going to be deterred by droid-judgment anyways. Which, he probably wasn’t. Unless it was going to involve bathroom duty again. Then he might be deterred.

So far as he knew, asking questions wasn’t going to get him in trouble.

Unless Phasma found out – but then he’d just have to tell her it only strengthened his resolve. At least, he figured that would work. He didn’t really doubt that would be the truth – but he still had to ask. He still had to find out why anyone would want such a horrible galaxy.

~***~

Neria could sense Poe’s sorrow even before he spoke. It was something she was only too familiar with, having lost her siblings, her mother, and her father, all too close together. It had nearly broke her, then. Sometimes she still didn’t know how she moved through those years. It seemed more like a fog had settled over her and made things…less real.

Of them all, it remained Beatrix’s death that haunted her the most. Poe speaking of his mother fondly did not bother her, but it did cast a light on the fact she knew she hadn’t mentioned her at all. Not that she had really mentioned much of her family in any…memorable way. No memories, like Poe shared, anyways.

The way his eyes glistened as he recalled what his mother had done, and how she’d taught him to fly, almost made Neria feel as if she shouldn’t have heard. It was likely something Dameron would share with anyone who listened, though. His admiration of his mother was evident, and though Neria wondered at the personal nature of it, she still didn’t hide that she was listening, letting a soft smile remain on her lips all the while as he spoke of Shara Bey.

He had been born in the Resistance, the same way she had been born in the Empire.

He didn’t dwell on family, but went on to the X-Wing instead. Her brows raised in interest at the offer, and she took the topic shift easily. Better than dwelling too long on close relatives, though she was curious if his father remained with him. He hadn’t mentioned that – it was apparently his mother that inspired his love of flying.

She wouldn’t have taken him for a mother’s boy.

“Deal. Though I’ve never flown an X-Wing before. I understand they usually require the assistance of an astromech.” Something that could be considered a pro or con, depending on who was asking.

Generally speaking, Neria considered it a con – even if she liked her own droids, relying on them was another story entirely. “You must have a fairly interesting one you’ve paired with Black One.”

 

[insensitive]

“...especially the mouse droids,” the man noted, as though this was a normal conversation. That much brought a faint smile to her lips - there were a few mouse droids back at the Resistance base, which she never really understood the point of. But Oscar - one of the mechanics - seemed to like messing with them.

She knew for a fact that Poe enjoyed them, too. Often, when one of the little things was out, he would take to chasing it around like a little boy.

His question took her out of the memory. Her brow furrowed at him, but then she remembered the methods the First Order used to “create” its stormtroopers.

They were all brainwashed. Conditioned as though they were nothing more than pieces of technology to be programmed.

The thought caused a sudden swell of anger within her. They were all sent off to fight against the Resistance believing that the rebels wanted chaos, and corruption of the galaxy. But that wasn’t true. There may have been lies spread, and Lee may not have known the General like she once thought she did, but she knew her comrades. Not all of them personally, but she would have abandoned the cause long ago had she suspected what they were doing was wrong.

It wasn’t. They were saving innocents from the First Order’s tyranny, from Snoke.

And yet, still, she couldn’t help but question the view she once thought was her own. ‘What if we aren’t?’

“What you’ve been informed about the Resistance...it’s wrong,” ‘I think.’ As she scanned her mind for the reasons, it felt as though she was tripping over it all, struggling to fit the pieces together. “The rebels...they - we aren’t fighting for disorder, or whatever you’ve been told. We’re fighting for individualism, against a system that wants complete subservience.” She wasn’t trying so hard to convince him, but herself instead.

With how little she’d been told, how could she trust anything she’d been taught? The thought itself brought back a familiar disgust, which she thought she’d escaped once she’d been left alone. But it was creeping back just as easily, and she couldn’t bring herself to ignore it.

~***~

Poe was grateful for her willingness to shift topics. Though his admiration for her was clear, it wasn’t so often anymore that he looked back to those memories. Decades passed since her death, and he’d reshaped his life in the best way he knew how - in a way he hoped would make her proud, if it was possible she was somewhere up above, looking down at him.

But he missed her. She was everything a mother should be, in his eyes. Despite her and his father, Kes Dameron, being away for so much of the war, it only inspired him further to join the New Republic.

And, in turn, the Resistance, a cause he knew to be right with as much certainty as he knew his own name.

In turn, he wondered whether or not the memories she had of family were so pleasant. Though she hadn’t yet shied away from the subject of them, much of the information she’d shared thus far held little emotion. Perhaps that alone was an answer to his question.

Even so, he was interested. But that could wait for another time.

Poe smiled when she informed him of her inexperience with X-wings, in terms of flying itself. All the more reason to look forward to the experience, then.

The tone in which she referred to the astromech droids suggested she wasn’t quite so fond of them, but the mention of his own only widened his grin. “Of course - BB-8, my closest companion,” an astromech model with masculine programming. Though that was something he didn’t often think about when referring to the little guy - despite calling him “little guy”. “I flew Black One to your hangar there, back on Hosnian Prime, but BB’s with the Resistance. You’d like him, though. He’s the best astromech I’ve come into contact with,” he was biased, of course, “Maybe you’ll get a chance to meet the sucker.”

That would depend on more than just their luck, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to make the suggestion.

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187 chewed his bottom lip a moment as he waited for a response. The anger that he saw flash across the prisoner’s eyes worried him, though the droid kept on working as if nothing was wrong. Meanwhile, FN-2187 was wondering if his presence was actually going to end up being needed…because he’d made things worse.

Thankfully, the prisoner didn’t actually move or act in a way in line with the anger he saw flare.

She tried to defend the Resistance against what he’d heard, claiming his knowledge was wrong. Which, maybe it could be – but wasn’t that exactly what a Rebel would say? “Maybe.” Why did he say maybe? Why did he try and make that sound tough? He was an idiot.

“But doesn’t individualism just create greed and selfishness? Doesn’t it just, you know, ruin things?” He had never been taught individualism. He had been taught to serve the greater good, and then all would succeed, as a unit, as a unified group. “If we’re all just looking out for the individual, how is anything gonna progress?”

Hell, how was the Resistance going to get anywhere with that mindset? Wouldn’t they all just…sacrifice each other to live? “What’s wrong with subservience to a good cause?” His cause, obviously, was what he meant.

Not that he hadn’t wondered before, when he was ordered to exterminate the bats that were just protecting their home. He hadn’t done that.

He’d taken them to a new home, instead.

~***~

BB-8.

Neria was familiar with the BB-series of droids. She had considered purchasing one, if only because they were ridiculously cute things and she liked to mess with people a bit. However, she hadn’t had much need for an astromech droid. Her money was better spent on making IT-O’s terrifyingly cute. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“I wonder if BB and Toc would get along,” she mused aloud, trying to imagine a droid that stemmed from therapy models, getting along with an interrogator droid. The thought was amusing, but of course, Toc wasn’t the standard IT-O. Its curiosity and droid network suggested as much in regards to how its programing had been modified. “I’d certainly like to meet BB-8, though.”

The company one kept said a lot, and Poe saw BB-8 as his closest companion. That meant BB-8 would have influenced him quite a bit, and viceversa.

Which brought about the question, “Did you program BB-8 yourself or modify the droid, or did you just happen to find him?” Most of the droids that Neria worked with, she’d had a hand in modifying, or had asked a friend to modify if it was a bit beyond her capabilities. Toc, for instance, had definitely been worked on by the Yularens – the intricacies of that droid went beyond her.

But A1D-3 had been programmed and modified by her own hand, more of an assault droid now than a protocol droid…but what people didn’t know only hurt them, severely. No one was stealing her ship.

 

[insensitive]

The trooper’s argument was one she’d heard before, but never had she been asked it herself. Before, she would have scoffed at the idea of individualism ruining things.

Individualism meant freedom. It didn’t automatically result in chaos, it didn’t mean everybody and their morals went to hell. Though, something similar could probably be said about totalitarianism, too.

Now, hearing the question from someone who truly had no clue, it was enough to make her question it herself.

‘No,’ she thought, ‘it doesn’t ruin things. It’s supposed to allow people to live on their own terms.’ But how could she know that? Her entire mindset since birth had been shaped around the rebels - the Resistance. It was the only thing she knew. And practically being raised by the General for so many years, who was as stubborn as any of them...it was no coincidence why nothing about her views had changed.

The pit in her stomach only grew larger when she thought of it. She’d never been given a chance to think for herself, yet that was all the General’s Resistance claimed it promoted.

“The rebels...they want the freedom to make their own choices,” Lee answered, almost as though reciting from a text. She wasn’t even including herself now, though it was a subconscious decision to refer to the rebels as “they”. She couldn’t keep track of her thoughts, nor the words she wanted to use to express her opinion. Everything was so jumbled, so confusing, and she had no idea why even her voice didn’t sound like her own.

They were the General’s words she’d spoken, after all, which she realized immediately. She blinked, shaking her head as though it would banish the other voice, “If everyone sacrifices their right to decide how they want to live, it...it just makes it easier for people in power to manipulate and manage them how they want.” That was greed. Selfishness.

But wasn’t it just as selfish, to lie your way from the difficult subjects as a means of retaining a “good image”? That was exactly what the General had done.

She let out an aggravated sigh, averting her gaze from the white-and-black mask. “I don’t know,” it was barely audible, but there. And no matter how much she wanted to take it back, to pretend like she was still as certain as she’d been only a few hours ago, the statement was solidified in her mind, echoing as though to taunt her.

‘I don’t know.’

Eventually, the droid beeped a few times more, seeming to have finished a good amount of its work. It was wrapping thin, white cloth around her arm, which was oddly comforting, but her attention was elsewhere.

“How can you be sure it’s a good cause?” she questioned, looking at him. At the very least, her confusion wasn’t solely directed at the Resistance. Perhaps he would even give an answer that allowed her some semblance of certainty, again. The kind of certainty she so desperately needed.

Doubtful.

~***~

Poe thought it a bit amusing that both droids he met back on Hosnian Prime had either been modeled to appear intimidating, or simply came across as such.

The protocol droid from the hangar - Aye-one was the nickname he recalled, though he also remembered the distaste it expressed toward Poe referring to it as such - and its commentary, more specifically, amused him. He wondered if she made any significant modifications to it, seeing as it was to be stationed beside her corvette. He didn’t take her for someone who would allow it to be so easily stolen.

Toc, however, had also left a strong impression. Majorly, that was due to its model. After talking with her for the amount of time he had, he felt it could be safely assumed that she took its intimidating nature as a plus. He was curious as to how far she’d gone into modifying it.

“That would be interesting to witness, I’m sure,” about BB and Toc. He didn’t think BB would mind the droid, as he was fairly outgoing, but the trait extended mostly to people within the Resistance. When it came to other droids, his willingness to assert himself was usually dependent on the make and model.

When she expressed her own, personal interest in meeting his companion, his smile returned. “I’m glad to hear it. I think he’d like you,” the droid was usually pretty receptive to people Poe favored.

His head canted some at her question, him remembering the first time he and the droid met. Though, it wasn’t necessarily a “meeting” so much as a discovery. “I helped repair him, actually. He belonged to a different starfighter for a couple days after all his functions were approved, but he managed to get himself several miles off-base, and whoever worked on him before did a shit job on his location’s system, so he couldn’t find his way back.” Poe still didn't know exactly what BB was doing, but it didn't really matter anymore, and he never bothered to ask.

There weren’t many people who did their jobs poorly within the Resistance, considering they all knew the importance of checking, checking, re-checking, and checking again. But that wasn’t to dismiss the few who seemed not to care about the droids. “I ended up going out to find the little guy, which ended up taking most of the day. By the time I got back to the mechanics it’d been several hours, a couple of them I spent carrying him in a sack. But when I found him, he was at the bottom of a pretty rocky hill. His censors were ruined, so I had to fix them and a few other things so his head stayed on,” thankfully, it didn’t take much to reboot the droid’s systems. “I’m sure he fell, but he won’t admit it. His memory bank works just fine, though. Whoever he belonged to before I got back didn’t want him for their ship, so I just let him hang around Black One and we ended up getting used to each other’s company.”

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187’s brows knit behind his helmet as he tried to listen to what she was saying, and make sense of it. He really tried. She said the rebels wanted freedom to make their own decisions. He understood that, certainly. He liked to make his own decisions, too, but did they need that sort of freedom – that much of it?

What was wrong with giving up a few things to make things better?

Though she had a point. The idea was that everyone would surrender to the First Order. Snoke was at the head of that, unquestionable. In theory, he could be manipulating them all for his own gain and benefit, but FN-2187 wasn’t taught that. Of course, he thought it – especially then. Wouldn’t it have made more sense for a group to be making decisions to check the selfish whims of someone else?

Then she sighed.

She claimed she didn’t know, and his head canted slightly at that. He wanted to ask her why, if she didn’t know – but was stopped by her own question.

“Well…,” he managed a helpless shrug, “I’ve seen images and video of what happens in the New Republic,” he hadn’t seen it first-hand, of course. “I know what we’re trying to stop…and that seems good – to stop corrupt governors, to end slavery, to make sure everyone has the same opportunities…those are good things, aren’t they?” That’s what he had been taught.

That’s what he thought he was going to help bring to the galaxy.

He noticed the droid tying off the clothe, before starting a scan over the rest of the prisoner’s body to assess any other wounds, before it would be prepared to leave.

~***~

Droid interactions usually were fairly interesting. They seemed to have a different approach to each other, and understood different models the way a human understood a twi’lek. Toc was, of course, intimidating in appearance and knew that. Most reacted to it that way, as well. That was how she wanted it.

BB-8, it seemed, had forged a more personal bond with Poe, not one created by programming, but happenstance. They had met in a natural fashion, Poe had spent some time repairing the droid, and by luck, Poe was able to keep the droid around. Neria wondered if he considered it more property, or more friend.

The lines around droids blurred often.

There was a number of senators who wanted to encourage more rights for droids, to treat them more as living beings rather than mechanics. She certainly didn’t side with them, but she understood how they came to their views, and how easy it would be. If A1D-3 was destroyed, or Toc, she would certainly feel sorrow for the loss – even if she had backed them up.

But they were still droids.

Then again, she’d take the same sort of revenge as she was doing for Lovetta against anyone who touched Toc.

She couldn’t help but give Poe a once over, though. “You must be stronger than your attire gives you credit for if you carried that BB so long. Or BBs are lighter than I’ve been led to believe. I’m glad you two found each other, however. Was there a droid in your life before BB?” It sounded like Black One came before BB-8, so in theory that implied a droid before BB-8. Perhaps something had happened to it, or perhaps he still had it, but it handled other matters in the Resistance, or the homestead.

 

[insensitive]

He was speaking to her as though he was a child, seeking confirmation from an adult.

That alone made her pause, and reevaluate the situation some. He was clearly uncertain, just as she was, which was at least comforting in the sense that she felt less...alone. Less isolated.

Still, his comment on the New Republic and the “videos” he’d seen almost made her scoff. “The New Republic and the Resistance aren’t the same thing,” surely he was aware. After the General was outed as the daughter of Vader, the Senate didn’t want her any longer. But her split from them allowed her to create her own alliance of people who would put an end to what was happening within the First Order on her own.

Not to mention, corruption as a whole. But Lee was no stranger to how little they could do about the New Republic - how little the General seemed inclined to do.

Her thoughts on the matter of both the New Republic and the Resistance were turning sour. Despite the fact that, in reality, her anger wasn’t really a result of the rebels. It was Leia Organa who had betrayed her, not them. But how much could she trust a system of people built around someone’s lies? How many others knew about the things she did not?

Again, she pushed the thoughts away.

“Well...yeah, they are good things, but…” He had no idea. Not even the slightest clue what was happening outside of the information, most of it false, he’d been fed. Her body deflated some, not only a result of the exchange between them, but the stress of it all.

The droid at her arm beeped again, an indication that it was finished, but she didn’t avert her gaze. “What’s your name? What do they call you?”

~***~

Poe was more interested in BB-8 as a companion and a friend, than an assistant. The astro-droids were useful when it came to plotting out jumps through space, ship repairs, and such. But since meeting BB - not below the hill, but when the droid was brought back to life, so to speak - his life changed in a number of ways.

For that reason, his opinion of droids turned from mostly indifferent, to pleasant. He stopped viewing them as friendly (or sometimes, of course, not so friendly) assistants, and began to regard them almost as though they were people themselves.

Of course, they weren’t; not quite.

There were some who began pushing for equal rights between droids and people, but he wasn’t quite sure where he stood on the subject. He figured the pros, in some cases, could outweigh the cons, but if that happened to flip, chaos would ensue and an all-out war could result.

He was already dealing with his war. So, rather than entertain the idea, he simply decided to leave it up to those on the Senate. Once it became more widespread, if it happened to, he would put more thought into the matter.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m the strongest guy you’ll ever meet, but I’m not useless,” though it was likely she had already met a number of people who were quite a bit stronger than he. “And there was more dragging involved than there was carrying,” he admitted. Then, about other droids, “There was one, but it didn’t have much of a personality. When I brought BB around, I eventually modified him to fit my ship,” though that didn’t entail very much modifying, aside from what had already been done when repairing BB. “The old one helps out around the base, now,” a feminine model, as quite a few in the Resistance tended to be.

“What about you? Any other droids, besides Toc and A1D-3?” He figured using either of the nicknames it’d been given was best left to her.

 

[Lucyfer]

“But the Resistance is defending the New Republic!” FN-2187 had sputtered immediately. He was taught that they were, basically, the same thing. Did that mean the Resistance was against the New Republic, too? He wanted to ask that, but she instead spoke to agree with him. What the First Order wanted were good things.

That meant the Resistance wanted those things, right? Even if the New Republic kept them around. He shut his mouth, not that she could see the gesture.

The droid beeped, but it wasn’t its beeping that really bothered FN-2187 so much as its movement away. That was cue enough, and he stepped away from the wall, before pausing as he heard her words. Not that the droid paused – the droid kept moving. “Uh, FN-2187,” he answered.

It wasn’t a name.

Not really.

Phasma was a name. Cardinal was a name, Pyre was a name. Every Stormtrooper wanted a name. Not everyone got a name. They had nicknames amongst themselves, of course, There was Slip, Nines, Zeroes, and he was called just Eight-Seven among the others of the FN Corps. “What’s your name?” Perhaps he shouldn’t know, but he figured it was polite. A good idea to know.

The droid didn’t care for his willingness to follow or not. It kept on, the door whooshing open. FN-2187’s weight shifted slightly, knowing he really shouldn’t be staying behind, but figuring he could get her name before dashing out the door and back to whatever duties he was going to be assigned to next.

Which, he figured, was just to get back to the cleaning duty he’d been pulled from.

It was better than some things he could be doing. At least he wasn’t cleaning the bathrooms right now, just mopping the floors of the Stormtrooper barracks in the east wing of the ship. The entire east wing.

~***~

Neria did laugh as he claimed not to be the strongest. She wasn’t saying that at all, and his admittance of dragging the droid made her wonder if he was unfamiliar with compliments, or thought that downplaying himself helped his appearance. Some did like that ‘humble’ quality. Of course, he did admit to there being another droid besides BB-8, without much personality, it seemed. It now just helped out on the base.

At least the personality-less droid was kept active.

“At least I know you have strength enough to carry a body. Really, that’s all the use I need. It’s usually what Aye-one does,” a way to get to the topic of other droids. “And there are too many droids. Most of them are droidekas or mouse droids.”

The droidekas were mostly at her home, rolling around and skittering about like mouse droids. “My hounds likes to play with the droidekas. They roll around and it gets to chase them around the house all day. I don’t think the droidekas like it too much, though.” Of course not – though at least their shields prevented them from being destroyed by the hounds.

“The mouse droids tend to stay on my ships. There’s one that’s a bit of a character, because someone decided to weld a knife to the top of it. We’re currently calling it Vice Admiral Stabby Mcknifeface.” The inanity of it could only cause her to shake her head a bit, but she was still smiling. “For the record, I did not name it. It had a proper name before some lunatic decided democracy was the best way to name it.” Said lunatic belonged to the Yularen family, but she didn’t state that. “I voted for something sensible.”

Probably not what Poe was expecting. “There’s another mouse droid that I think is trying to be in competition with Vice Admiral Mcknifeface,” she at least managed to say it without breaking tone of voice, “MS-223, though we call it SS because it wants racing stripes painted on it. I may give in one day and grant it the racing stripes.”

 

[insensitive]

The confusion in the trooper’s voice was clear as day through the mask, but she couldn’t do anything to get him to understand. How could she? He was trained to believe in everything her whole life had taught her was wrong.

Even if she wanted to convince him of that view, she wouldn’t know how. Just as she didn’t know how to hold onto it without the questions resurfacing.

The New Republic was ignorant. Most of its senators had never seen battle; they didn’t know the urgency involved. Sure, they could assume, but to see it all unfolding before one’s eyes was a different thing entirely.

“Uh, FN-2187.”

FN-2187 was not a name. It was only yet another show of how little the First Order held a regard for life.

Her brow furrowed at him, though she didn’t ask the question which formed behind her eyes. Whether or not he was happy with a code for a name. Whether or not he really thought he could ever be happy serving the First Order’s cause. Genuinely, she wanted to know, more so than ever.

Because, though the thought was nearly enough to sicken her, she might be doing the same.

“Lee,” she said, her eyes softening. She didn’t really want to see him leave, strange as that was. If he was leaving, that meant she was closer to having to decide.

Closer to having to reconsider everything she was starting to dread.

But she wouldn’t tell him that, or offer anything else in the way of formalities. He was a stormtrooper. Stormtroopers weren’t friends of rebels.

Nobody aboard this ship could ever be the friend of a rebel.

~***~

Poe wasn’t a stranger to compliments, though most he received nowadays were backhanded. Meant as jokes from his comrades, of course, but he knew to be wary of them, as silly as it was.

It was probably a result of his former cockiness - which he still retained some amount of, despite him having grown mostly out of it - that the compliments were directed at him more often than the other members of his squadron. And maybe because its members viewed him more as a friend than a captain, when he thought about it.

Not that he minded.

He was familiar with some droideka models, though he hadn’t ever met one in person. They reminded him of scorpions, as far as appearances went; he wasn’t sure if that made him like them more or less.

The mention of her hounds did cause his brow to raise some, but he didn’t comment on it. ‘Hounds wrestling with droidekas,’ he mused, ‘Now that’s something I never want to get in the middle of.’

His expression did break, however, at the mention of the mouse droid. He laughed out loud, at that, “‘Mcknifeface’?” He shook his head, a hand on his stomach, as he regained his composure. “I have to admit, I’m with the lunatic on that one. That’s the best thing I’ve heard since Jet-ass,” but he didn’t want to be aboard that ship at the same time as the droid. Part of him, of course, hoped that he would. He still wanted to see it.

“It was one of the mouse droids we raced back at the base,” Poe said, “The name isn’t as creative as ‘Mcknifeface’, but it is, quite literally, a droid with a mini-jet attached to where we’re pretty sure is its ass,” they’d had the smallest jet they could find modified to fit the thing, “We modified some things in the droid itself, which took way too long, but it didn’t go very well.”

The droid had sputtered around and crashed into a wall.

"Racing stripes are a good idea - I think it gives them a confidence boost," he added. Most of the mouse droids racing back at the base were equipped with them.

 

[Lucyfer]

Lee. That was a name. FN-2187 knew that. It wasn’t a name he’d want for himself, but at least it was something more. It meant someone had given it to her, someone who loved her, and hoped that whatever meaning or feelings they attached to Lee, would be imparted in her.

FN-2187 meant nothing.

Eight-Seven meant nothing – it was just a way to avoid the mouthful that was his full code. He gave a small nod, acknowledging the name, before realizing the droid was out of sight. “Oh no.” He didn’t want to get yelled at by Phasma, “Sorry – gotta go.” He bolted by the chair, and out the door, the door whooshing open and closed in quick succession.

Time would pass.

In that time, FN-2187 would get questioned for his conversation with the prisoner by Phasma.

Kylo Ren would meditate on the future and his outburst about Leia, before a melted helmet of Darth Vader he had acquired from Endor’s moon and a village of ewoks that was no longer in existence.

Eventually, he would settle himself, and decide it was time to return to Lee. He hadn’t ordered food be brought to her yet. He learned that she had been treated by the medical droid and hadn’t fought it, or the Stormtrooper sent to escort the droid. He couldn’t say he was pleased it had been FN-2187, though. It was one of the few Troopers he knew the name of with some certainty; he had been assigned to cleaning duty fairly often for exhibiting free thought, though he’d never acted on it.

Not the best one to send to oversee a rebel. He’d talk to Phasma about her reasoning later.

For now, he found attire that would likely suit the rebel, a black jumpsuit, and a nutritious shake. The door was opened for him upon his arrival by a Stormtrooper he couldn’t name, and he stepped in and walked around the chair to see if she was still awake.

~***~

Stabby Mcknifeface tended to have a way with breaking skin, and breaking composures. Neria sometimes had to stop herself from bursting into laugh on the bridge when the droid stabbed someone mid-task. She loved that stupid thing, but it was just that – an absolutely stupid thing. “Mcknifeface,” she repeated solemnly, doing her best not to join Poe in his laughter to make it seem all the more hilarious. “It’s a very respectable Vice Admiral.”

No it absolutely was not, but apparently the Rebels had their own twisted sense of humor when it came to mouse droids. They had one named Jet-ass, and Neria didn’t bother stifling the short laugh of surprise, “I imagine someone was hopped up on jet juice when they named it,” strictly forbidden, always in existence, jet juice was an amazing intoxicant.

“If I ever get racing stripes on SS, perhaps it and Jet-ass should race,” she couldn’t help but chuckle, “though I suppose I might owe it to SS to increase its speed just a bit. Jet-ass sounds like it’s going to win – which is honestly just as creative as Mcknifeface.”

They were both in the same level of creativity. Mcknifeface had a knife…on its face. Jet-ass had a jet…on its ass. “People are the same everywhere,” she chuckled a bit at that, glad for the reminder, in a way.

Sometimes, it was hard to remember the inanity of the universe was, well, universal. It crossed between species. People just needed something to laugh at, now and then.