Fandom Star Wars: Cold Wars [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

‘Maybe.’

Kylo would not comment on it. It was receptive, at least. Lee wasn’t arguing that it was an impossibility. The single word didn’t even sound bitter, spoken as quietly as it was. Kylo moved as she walked to the chair and positioned herself back in it. He would strap her in without use of the Force this time. “It won’t be long until you’re moved.” He said, as if that could be some reassurance for her situation.

Once she was back in the chair, he gave her a look over, making sure everything seemed secure. Once he was satisfied with that, he would walk by her, feeling some satisfaction at the fact her doubts were growing.

It wasn’t rapid, no…but she would see.

And as promised, he would set about seeing that a room was set up for her, that clean clothes were taken to it, and it was furnished with the bare necessities of a cot and a restroom. Food would be brought at intervals, of course, rather than left in some sort of fridge. Once it was all set up, it would not be Kylo Ren that went to get her, but a Stormtrooper.

The same one as before: FN-2187.

“Do you wanna tell Phasma that you’re not—that’s what I thought,” he huffed as the door started to open to let him into the room with the prisoner. He strode by the outside guard and back around to the front of the prisoner. “Hey.” He remembered speaking with her, of course, though after he said it, he realized she probably didn’t remember him.

The bucket made him look like anyone else, and he doubted his voice was that familiar.

The thought shifted his mannerisms a bit, “You are going to be escorted to a new cell. I have binders. I’m going to undo your shackles at your wrists, and then put the binders on you before undoing the rest. Okay?” He wasn’t sure why he was asking permission. Or agreement.

~***~

Neria had half a mind to drop the serious conversation to tease Poe about the hum, and question if any of his ships were compensation for something lacking, but he kept to the serious chatter about Mercurial Swift and what may await them. She wouldn’t dissuade that talk. It was, after all, important.

He was concerned about the fighting. About Mercurial Swift. Mercurial Swift might be able to get two of them out at once – that was true. But after that, a blaster was as good an option as any, and keeping him at a distance was better for most.

For her?

Her expression took an amused, but wary, appearance. There was only so much to offer to someone about her capabilities. Dameron was already familiar with her ship – perhaps more than she’d like, but she wouldn’t be quizzing him on that, or letting him test that knowledge in a dogfight anytime soon, but she had certain…reputations.

Her family was rather infamous for looking gaunt, after all. Many underestimated them for it, their scars covered, their talent lost in the slight figures they cut. Others were smart enough to know better. She took Poe for the second. He clearly didn’t think she was just accessorizing with weapons as a front.

Her confidence certainly wasn’t a front.

“Mercurial will make the mistake of thinking of his loyalties, which means either you, or Terex, fall first. He’s dead second.” There was no waver, no concern, for Mercurial’s own skill. He was dead after his first strike. There was no second strike for Swift. “Does that answer your question of ‘what about me’?”

Really, there was only one that Neria thought might stand to her from rumors, and that was Phasma. Kylo Ren didn’t concern her; he had the Force, so of course there’d never be a fair fight with him, but she still thought that overconfidence the Force inspired might be her way around him.

Phasma? From everything she heard, meeting Phasma might be like looking in a mirror. Another monster.

 

[insensitive]

Lee watched him has he moved to strap her in, her limbs still tense with suspicion. Though she had no idea how she was going to clear her head of the conflict, or even begin to forgive General Organa for the lies, or try to understand the methods of the First Order, she hoped it was enough for now to simply be...agreeable.

For now, there was no use in questioning him any further. Besides, she knew how situations like this worked—she was in no position to ask questions.

When the stormtrooper entered the room, it didn’t even occur to her that it may have been the one from before, until he spoke. A casual: “Hey,” that was probably not the greeting most of their troopers were taught to use.

She stared up at his mask as he employed a colder tone, quirking a brow. Then, when he was finished, she waited, curious as to whether or not her suspicions were correct.

Eventually, she said, “Still dealing with those mouse droids?” That was one thing from their conversation that she could remember, when he’d commented on them being ‘weird’.

She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to know if it was him. There wasn’t any reason she should have a preference as to which stormtrooper was with her. But the one from before—FN-218-something, she recalled—seemed at least more conversational than any of the others. And, hopefully, less apt to want to shove her around.

Not like she’d let them easily, anyway.

~***~

Poe looked at her, his expression hard but blank for a few moments. He would’ve perhaps preferred something more in the way of a plan, a less risky way around Swift, but then again—there was no telling what exactly the man would do.

If he showed up, which was a question in and of itself.

“Well, let’s hope he chooses Terex before me,” he said, turning back to the ship.

It seemed more likely that a man working for the First Order would be more apt to first attack a traitor. But Poe was Resistance, and he wasn’t operating without a reputation. People knew about him, his skills, his squadron. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Mercurial went for him, first.

So, in that event, he would do well to be prepared.

As for her, he didn’t have much of a doubt that she would follow through on her words—Swift would do wrong not to go after her initially, if her reputation was anything to go by. Terex and Poe himself were far from unskilled in combat, but she was a Tarkin; Poe knew, as much as he could, what that meant.

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187 was momentarily taken aback by the question of the droids. A smile broke out, even if the bucket hid it – it would be heard in his voice. “Yeah,” he laughed a bit, “Yeah, I am,” he agreed. “Slip – er, FN-2003, keeps raving about painting stripes on them,” he shook his head, “as if the droids need an excuse to zoom down the halls and get underfoot, right?”

As if she’d actually understood that kind of trouble. Maybe the Resistance was smart enough not to have too many mouse droids around.

He hadn’t expected to be remembered. He was glad, though. He hadn’t thought his voice was that notable, “I really do need to get you moving to another area, but it is a lot more comfortable than this,” he reassured, removing the binders that were at the belt of his uniform, “So is that going to be all right?”

He knew he didn’t need agreement. He shouldn’t even be looking for it, but he didn’t want to have to fight her, and he didn’t want to have to call for back-up, either. That would only mean she got hurt more, and it looked like that wasn’t in the plans for her. She was being given use of a room with an actual bed, after all. “If it helps, it’s a lot better than my room. It’s not shared.”

That probably wasn’t too encouraging, but he thought it might help a bit, anyways.

~***~

Neria couldn’t echo that she agreed with Poe. She wasn’t sure that she did, truth be told. She wanted time to speak with Terex, after all. Poe? Well…in that regard, Poe was more expendable. Along for the ride, to help get answers for the Resistance, and to try and sway her, too. She liked him well enough, of course.

In the long run, he was likely more important to keep alive, though that was to be determined.

Eventually, they did reach the Ring of Kafrene. Neria took over the comms at that point, hailing to find an open hangar, and soon enough they were directed to one that still had space to accommodate her ship.

It was eased in, no sign of Terex’s ship there at all. ‘Where to begin, where to begin?’ She pushed herself up and out of the co-pilot’s seat, “Stay with the ship, Aye-one,” she called down as she moved towards the ramp to leave.

“I think we’ll start at Good Dreams cantina, if you’ve no issues with that one?” It was one of the hangar cantinas, and usually had a lot of talk of arrivals and departures – not limited to that hangar, thankfully. He’d only mentioned Cyd’s Pub as one to avoid, so she wouldn’t make a point of going that way.

 

[insensitive]

Keelee couldn’t help the small smile that found its way to her eyes at the trooper’s response. It was partially at the familiarity of this kind of conversation; she certainly missed the others at the Resistance, even if all the fun associated with their antics did manage to get under her nerves from time to time.

She couldn’t complain much about it, anyway; she’d given Poe the idea of strapping a jet to one of the droids back at home.

“You have no idea,” she said in a tone that dropped at the end, the memory of that particular mouse droid keeping that beginning of a smile stuck a few seconds more.

She watched him remove the binders strapped to his uniform and the smile dissipated. But it wasn’t out of disappointment or stand-offishness that she watched him so quizzically. It was the fact that he was asking for confirmation, like he would need it.

Or, maybe not need, but prefer.

She figured that was better for her than someone who wouldn’t care, but it was curious. In the event that one of his superiors or comrades suspected he was being friendly in any small way toward a prisoner, he wouldn’t be given a pat on the back.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Lee decided that she wouldn’t question him. He didn’t seem like a bad person, contrary to what she’d learned about stormtroopers. “It’s orders, right?” she said.

At the mention of shared rooms, she felt a small bit of relief. Isolation—she was used to that. She could think in that. And the other prisoners wouldn’t be there to remind her of the betrayal she was committing simply by going through with this.

“What’s that like?” she eventually asked with a raise of the brow, trying to distract herself from the question of whether or not the others had been kept alive. “Sharing a room with stormtroopers? Are you guys forced to keep those things on until in private? Or do you shower with them, too?” She smirked some, in spite of the way her throat strained against the words.

~***~

Poe didn’t think much of her silence, though he wouldn’t mistake it for empty. He could tell she was contemplating something, but decided not to trouble himself with the question of why.

Once they reached the Ring, Poe took the time as they landed to search for Terex’s ship—or really, any that looked particularly familiar. None were notable, as far as he could see. He drew in a deep breath, to mentally prepare himself for the possible places this search might lead them.

Confident the ship was secure, and assured that the Aye-one would take proper care of it while they were gone, he followed her down the ramp and into the hangar, letting waves of the familiar (and unfamiliar) roll over him, through each of his senses. It felt like he remembered; the air was humid, just out of the realm of dewy.

It smelt like he remembered, too—stale, of liquor, sweat, and faintly, metal.

“None at all,” he replied. He could swear he’d been to the cantina before, though it would’ve been too far back to serve his memory well. Especially given the amounts of alcohol that had driven him back then.

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187 was glad to see the smile, in spite of the situation that Lee found herself in. At least her hope wasn’t extinguished. That probably shouldn’t be something that he found joy in, but from rumors going around, Lee was being looked at as a possible recruit, rather than a complete traitor. Something General Hux wasn’t happy about. If Phasma had an opinion, no one knew it.

Sometimes, FN-2187 if Phasma had opinions on anything besides how disciplined they all should be. Likely, that meant her opinion skewed in favor of whatever Supreme Leader Snoke said on the matter.

FN-2187 wasn’t so sure his own opinion, beyond being glad that she was, in fact, still able to smile.

And hesitant to just slap the binders on. He sucked in his lower lip as he waited for an answer, not certain how long he could wait before it was suspicious. Eventually, Lee just reminded him that was his job. “Yeah…yeah, it is,” he agreed. He would reach ahead and place the binders over her wrist, tight enough that he was sure it was a little uncomfortable, “Sorry,” he murmured, before he would step back, his hand staying on the binders to pull her forward.

He’d move his hand to her arm once she was out of the chair, to lead her out of the room and towards her new one. He thought over how to answer her question as they passed through the door, but didn’t speak until they had at least turned the corner.

“It’s not terrible. I mean, sometimes I think I might like to have my own quarters, but I’m not sure I could even sleep in complete silence anymore,” he laughed, “and we can take these off in private. We’re encouraged to wear them as much as possible, but we can’t really, you know, eat with the helmets on, or cleanse ourselves. These come off in the showers,” he chuckled, “Though I’m sure Phasma’s looking at ways that they’ll never need to come off. She’s strict about these things. I’ve never even seen her face. Not once.”

FN-2187 didn’t think anyone had.

He also didn’t think Phasma ever had numbers. No one was really sure where she came from.

~***~

The Good Dreams cantina it would be, and Neria didn’t delay once they were off the ramp with bringing up a map on her datapad to point her in the right direction. This wasn’t the hangar they needed, but they weren’t terribly far from it. She kept an eye on the activity as they walked, but the majority of people there wanted as little trouble as possible.

They had their own secrets, and their own reason for being there.

Still, Neria kept an eye for any sign of the Ranc gang. Any face she knew.

None would cross her path on the way, for better or for ill. They reached the Good Dreams without any conflict, besides various auditory assaults of alien curses and shouting. Maybe a blaster shot or two, Neria wasn’t certain, and didn’t care to learn.

Then there was the assault of music in the Good Dreams, a jaunty tune that was so far out of touch the environment of flickering neon and bitter expressions it was almost amusing. Not amusing enough for Neria to actually crack a smile at the misfortunate here, but enough to know that in a less than pleasant mood, she would have.

As it was, she simply moved to the counter where a togruta woman seemed to be serving, “One shot of whiskey, and whatever my friend wants,” perhaps it was improper to drink at the moment, but she had to play by the rules. She had to blend in a little, which meant playing a little by the norms.

Drink, before information. “Decent whiskey, if you have it. Not that Corellian swill.”

The togruta smirked a moment at that – she had been reaching for the ‘swill’, but said instead, “You have the credits for it?” Not many did.

“I haven’t lost my dreams yet,” she answered playfully, “otherwise I’d be making him pay.”

 

[insensitive]

‘Sorry,’ FN-2187 said, still somehow managing to surprise her.

He’d asked for her permission to use the restraints, practically, and he kept apologizing. She wondered whether or not he’d ever handled a prisoner—if he regularly got into trouble for being so...opposite all the other stormtroopers. At least, she assumed he was. Judging by the ones she’d met, excluding encounters on the field, she never would’ve imagined it likely that someone who wasn’t ruthless or without a heart could carry out the orders they were given.

But then, she knew about the methods the First Order used to keep them in line. How they had so many troopers in the first place. It wasn’t as if they were acting fully out of their own accord. Perhaps, if they knew the reality of what their actions caused, they would even rebel.

But FN-2187, as far as she could tell, was the exception to them. And one person would be nowhere near enough to make any impact.

Lee found it surprisingly easy to follow after him. The soreness in her feet, at least, was mostly relieved. There was still an aching around her shoulders, a pressure in the back of her head. But that, she suspected, would be gone within the next few days. It was the mental strain she was truly dreading.

She found it just as easy, and perhaps just as surprisingly so, to listen to him. He seemed cheerful; innocent, maybe. There was something about him she realized she hadn’t seen in a long while. “Silence bothers you, eh?” She raised a brow. She could understand that, considering how he lived. Though, anymore it was like silence was her home.

Then, there was that name: Phasma. It broke the smile on her face, struck the memory of the crash in just a way that made it flash behind her eyes, reminding her of the wreckage. Of Nev.

She turned her attention on the hallway. “Phasma, huh.” Her voice had changed, something about it had become detached. “She the one in that silver stuff? What is it, anyway? Chromium?” It hardly occurred to her that he might not know. “She’s a captain, right?”

~***~

It was loud, on the ground, but Poe was almost happy to be around a familiar sort of commotion. Maybe under different circumstances—meaning, on another planet—he could’ve even relaxed. But he did just the same as she. His eyes swept around their surroundings, his ears attuned to picking up the noises that might’ve been irregular, as far as either of them could distinctly tell.

They were not approached nor stopped by anybody, which he figured was more than likely a good thing. He decided it was better they might stumble across somebody in the confines of a cantina, rather than out in the open. At least they may then have some chance of keeping the situation under control.

Though, he suspected he might be a fool for thinking there was any chance of that whatsoever.

The change of tone once they entered the cantina was in stark contrast to that of the outside. It was a rush of almost up-beat music, but was accompanied by lousy scenery, and the faces one would expect to match. A visual he found was all too common, but never ceased to invade him with some kind of off-beat nostalgia.

He moved to stand beside her at the bar, briefly waving off her offer. Then, watching her exchange with the woman at the counter, he almost rolled his eyes, then decided on a small smile once she fixed him with an expectant look.

“Not tonight—drunk flying is not my forte,” he said, letting his gaze drift briefly along the assortment of people. “Not much of a crowd tonight, eh?”

 

[Lucyfer]

A nervous chuckle escaped FN-2187 as Lee reiterated his statement. “Yeah, yeah, just a bit,” he couldn’t deny it. Silence was weird, even when they were ordered to be silent themselves. There was always sound, be it the chatter of others nearby, the announcements throughout the ship, or something else that broke it.

FN-2187 wasn’t sure he’d know how to deal with true silence. He wasn’t that keen to find out, either. The sounds offered him that sense of security, that other people were around him, and he was safe.

In theory.

She asked about Phasma, though, and FN-2187 offered what he knew. “Yeah—yeah, it is chromium, actually,” they had all been curious about it, and eventually, one of them was brave enough to ask Phasma about it. To all of their surprise, she answered them – reminding them that they could have this, one day, if they were good soldiers for the Order.

Armor, and a name. Like Cardinal. Like Pyre.

“She is a captain, too,” he agreed, “though between you and me? She’s more like a general,” and more of a general than General Hux, but he wouldn’t say that thought aloud. “I know she gets to see Supreme Leader Snoke.” He knew that Phasma was high up on the list of people, in spite of her rank.

Wait, did the Resistance know that?

Did the Resistance need to know that? Or what her armor was made of.

“I—I shouldn’t—forget I said any of that.” Not that she could. And Kylo Ren might see it from her mind.

~***~

Neria chuckled a bit at Poe’s denial of drink. Admittedly, probably a good thing, even if she had no plans of getting so intoxicated herself. She could also mention the droid. “I suppose I can let you get away with it, given the circumstances,” the shot was placed by her, as Poe voiced his question.

Neria shot it down without question, the liquid warming. Her desire for another was almost immediately present, but she wouldn’t speak that immediately. Poe’s question deserved a moment, after all.

Even if the togruta just gave him a once over, and the comment, “What would you know of it?”

Neria interjected, “We used to come around here back in our Academy days,” maybe that was true for Poe. He came here sometime ago, how long ago she couldn’t expressly say, but that didn’t really matter. “Seemed busier then. Was hoping to find an old friend.”

“Oh yeah? Who’d that be?”

“He went by Lord Terex then,” Neria chuckled as if it were a joke, “Could I get another – ah, whiskey but mixed in with some coke? I should at least try to sip.”

The togruta would hardly argue as Neria offered her credit chip, and she poured, “Haven’t seen Terex here in a minute,” the togruta noted, “but he’s in town. Not sure where.”

Tuning into the conversation, another at the bar chimed, “He’s been over at Cyd’s.”

 

[insensitive]

Lee thought his dislike of silence suited him. He was certainly chattier than the other bucket-heads she’d encountered. When she had stumbled across the few that were open to conversation, it was more on the side of threat-making than anything else.

She wondered how often FN-2187 got himself into trouble with higher-ups for being so talkative. Or, maybe he was just that way with her now, and with some of his friends—if anyone aboard this ship knew what those were—because he had so little chance to anytime else. It made her feel a pang of sympathy for him; he seemed good. Truly.

The thought alone brought a cloud over her eyes, but she focused on his words anyway. She couldn’t afford to question herself now. That would come later, when the only sounds she would be surrounded by were those of the ship around her and that of her own breathing.

So it was chromium. Well, that explained why it looked the way it did, and perhaps it could explain something about this Phasma herself if Lee had anything else to go off of. She assumed, though, in the way that he spoke of the captain, that she was probably something of a mystery to everybody on board.

Everybody except, maybe, Kylo Ren. Or perhaps not even he had breached the walls of her mind. Surely the Supreme Leader knew more about her; he was the one behind all this, after all.

Keelee raised her brow at the trooper, watching him then through somewhat questioning eyes. He had to have some filter. He couldn’t think sharing things like this with who he currently knew to be on the opposing side would be good for him. If anyone found out…

“You shouldn’t be so open, you know.” She looked ahead, feeling the tug of some kind of responsibility. Maybe a little guilt, even. “Not with me. We’re not friends. We’re not even neutral, we…”

She sighed. ‘Dammit.’

Stopping, Lee turned to look at him, ensuring first that they were alone in the hallway. It didn’t sound like anybody else was coming. “You don’t have any idea who I am, what I’m really like. Have you done this kind of thing before? Dealt with prisoners, I mean.” How much experience did he have outside of training?

~***~

Poe leaned his forearms against the bar, taking the woman’s comment in stride. Admittedly, he didn’t look like the kind who went to places like this, not anymore—at least, he didn’t think so. The types that occupied these spaces generally looked a bit more...gruff. Weathered. Or, in Neria’s case, they were the types few people thought to question.

He was a pilot. Far from a straight-laced one, but he projected some version of the flyboy persona wherever he went.

It was easy to let Neria do the talking. He didn’t think to interject, but instead decided to admire from a distance. And the bit about the Academy wasn’t a lie; coming to places like these with whatever group of friends he was rotating through at whatever point in time was precisely what had gotten him into trouble.

Dameron couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged his expression as she continued. ‘A politician at her finest.’

Then, in response to the male voice further down the bar, Poe’s eyes closed. ‘Fuck.’

“Cyd’s?” he said, sliding a brief look Neria’s way. “It’s been some time since I stopped by that dump,” no use in hiding the contempt from his voice, seeing as the pub’s customers were generally far from loyal. “Looks like I owe ten credits on a bet; I thought the place would’ve been shut down by now. Hey, any chance it’s under new management? Maybe that’ll save me some,” or spare him the trouble of having to stand outside.

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187 knew he shouldn’t have said any of it, had suggested as much, but hearing it still hurt in a way that he couldn’t explain. It was a familiar pain. It wasn’t as if his nature was exactly liked here. In some ways, it did make it strange that he was trusted with guard duty. “No,” he answered that, even if the word felt cut in his throat.

Curt.

He suspected Phasma assigned him this so he would see what the Rebels were like. So he could develop that unquestioning hatred that so many others had, but if that was the case? It wasn’t working. He didn’t really see a reason to hate Lee, even if they weren’t friends.

Weren’t neutral.

And it was true, he didn’t know much about her, at all.

They reached the cell, the cellblock itself not unguarded, but there were only two troopers on either end of the hall, rather than at individual cells. FN-2187 would head to the cell that had been prepared for Lee, opening it with the code he’d been given and gesturing her in. He’d follow, to remove the binders.

To say, “Maybe it’s wrong – probably, definitely, wrong – to talk like that, but…you’re right. I don’t know you. And I don’t know your Resistance. You’re the first person I get to learn from, and I think I should. I know I should.” The binders would come off, “Would you really wanna fight an enemy you don’t know anything about? Someone like yourself?”

~***~

Neria Tarkin hardly forgot that Poe had problems with Cyd’s. Perhaps that was intentionally done by Terex; she had dropped Poe’s name, after all. No matter. She had to follow this, no matter what, and her hand slipped around the spiked coke as the stranger offered his answer, “Ha, no, management hasn’t changed in decades,” was the answer.

No luck for Poe then.

Neria took down the whiskey and coke in a few gulps, regretting that she had to take it down so quick, but she wasn’t about to lose this. “Thank you,” she said to the stranger, and took her credit chip back from the togruta as she slipped off her stool. The alcohol was starting to warm her. She knew that soon she’d be feeling it – there was more than one shot in that coke, that was for sure.

‘Fuck.’

No matter. She held her own in more than one bar fight before. “I’ve got to go catch him before he moves on again, let him know my good fortune,” she winked, “I’ll be back in before I leave. Can’t ever pass by the Dream,” a small tease, mingling with the head rush of the liquor. ‘Fuck.’ That would likely be a bit of a mantra as she walked on.

She gestured to Poe, not that it was necessary, as she turned towards the door. She could walk straight. Her vision wasn’t blurring, but there was a new swagger to it, a slight sway that would become more pronounced when she had to stand still.

 

[insensitive]

It was as she had expected—he’d not seen to a prisoner before.

She wondered if this was standard procedure; if all stormtroopers were thrown into tasks like this, seemingly with little idea what they were truly going to be met with. Going by what she knew, FN-2187 had been brainwashed into thinking all Resistance were bad. That they were “anarchistic thugs” as Kylo Ren had so quaintly put it, looking to push the galaxy into a state of unrelenting chaos.

Surely, though, it wasn’t expected that every prisoner to be brought aboard would act without restraint, or that simply looking at them would be enough to solidify a lifelong hatred.

But then, why not? That was what she had expected. It was what she saw every time she looked at one of those masks—her hatred for the First Order. The reason for the cause she served with such unwavering faith before.

Lee realized, a familiar headache coming on, just how similar their situations truly were. He wasn’t the only one who was full of questions and uncertainties, and it made her feel all the worse for him.

She stepped inside the cell as he spoke, watching briefly as the binders were removed. There was one cot in the corner, accompanied by the necessities of any living space. As to be expected, it was fairly small.

She looked at FN-2187’s mask, really looked at it, and tried to imagine the face underneath. ‘No,’ she thought, ‘I wouldn’t.’ And yet, she couldn’t help but think that was what she’d been doing for years.

With a small smile, “Well, I wouldn’t want to fight you.” She glanced down at her wrists, massaging the skin where the binders had been. It wasn’t painful, but it was nice to be free of them. “Don’t you think that’s what we’ve been doing, though?” she said. “Not us, specifically, but...we’re all fighting in this war, and most of us don’t even really understand what we’re fighting for. Maybe we think we do…”

She shook her head at herself. She could’ve been wrong. Maybe the other Resistance members knew the whole picture. Maybe they were completely clear on the outcomes, equally clear on the costs. Maybe she was alone in this confusion.

“What about the others in your squad?” or whatever he chose to refer to his group as, “How many of them want to learn? I mean, I can’t imagine it’s something you’re able to talk about much, but how many people do you know that really care to see the full picture?” She couldn’t imagine hardly anyone aboard this ship was particularly interested.

~***~

Dameron resisted the urge to huff, instead letting his attention travel over the bar. This was exactly what they needed, he thought sarcastically to himself. Separated the moment it counted the most.

He watched as Neria downed the glass, his brow raising some. He almost considered warning her against it, but even if he thought that a good idea she finished it off much too quickly for him to get any words in. Now that they’d both been made aware of the fact that she’d have to go in after Terex alone - at least until Poe could figure out something for himself - he didn’t want her going in there without her wits.

Truthfully, he didn’t want her going in there alone at all. Not so much because he didn’t believe she could handle her own; in fact, he was almost certain she could.

No, it wasn’t that - he wanted to see the look on Terex’s face when he realized he was fucked. Which meant there needed to be a suitable reason for him to think he was.

Already, it seemed like the drink was taking effect. When she winked especially, it was obvious that she wasn’t immune to the consequences of alcohol.

Poe slid away from the bar, weaving through the cluster of stools after her. Once he caught up, which took only a few long strides, he gave her an almost bemused once-over. “You’re looking a little loose,” he commented. If she was already beginning to feel a buzz, he wondered just how much looser she’d be in ten minutes. “I wasn’t planning on this, so I guess now’s as good a time as any to mention why Cyd’s wasn’t really an option. I can’t go in—I got myself thrown out after I pissed off one of the regulars. Last time I tried to visit the place, I was banned.”

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187 could see that his statements and his own questions had gotten to the rebel, but he didn’t feel upset about that. Even as she stared hard at him, as if she could see through the mask. He had a mad thought to remove it. ‘Phasma. Will. Kill. You.’ No one gave him leave to remove his helmet, but in that moment, it was so confining. So…frustrating.

They had come to some small understanding, though.

Neither of them, truly, viewed the other as the enemy. Not in that moment. Even if their sides opposed each other. Lee saw to the human in him, through the mask. And he saw to her, as well, not someone who was trying to cause harm or be greedy – but someone who wanted the best, too.

“Yeah…it may be what our leaders are doing. It hasn’t…it hasn’t felt like there’s been a lot of communication, but I don’t know for sure,” FN-2187 noted. “I want to think that the Order would talk, and work for peace, but…,” but he knew how militaristic they were, and how deluded they thought those on the outside were.

How brainwashed.

He could only shake his head at the question, “I think maybe Slip has some questions, but I’m not sure about the others,” he offered with a shrug, “We don’t…we aren’t exactly encouraged to question it,” obviously. They were weapons of war, they weren’t made to think. Just to act. “Does anyone you work with ever question…all of this?”

Was it the same in the Resistance? Were they discouraged from questioning it, too?

~***~

The crooked grin remained on Neria’s lips as Poe gave his assessment of her state. There was hardly any denying it, “Don’t worry – I’ve done a lot of things worse off than this. Most I shouldn’t be proud of,” the ‘but’ was implied. But she was. She’d continue on, stepping out, enjoying the way the air fell on her once they were out of the Dream.

It probably wouldn’t have felt so nice if she was sober, but the gentle breeze was cooling her.

That had definitely been good whiskey. And too much of it, or else she was more of a lightweight than she realized. She hadn’t thought she was that bad. She might have to go back and purchase a bottle just so she knew what the hell it was.

Her thoughts jumped, but came back to Poe’s point, vision focusing on him long enough to let it sink in, “Ah,” of course. “I suppose you’ll need to figure something out before I’m killed, then.” Spoken like a fact, rather than a ‘what-if’. Perhaps she could deal with Terex on her own, and even most of his men, but all, with no one to draw some attention?

The odds weren’t exactly in her favor.

Of course, she didn’t sound worried about it, either. “There’s probably like…a ventilation shaft, or a back entrance, or a window, right? Someone you can bribe, or knock out?” Violence seemed to be the solution to most entrance problems. Violence or credits.

 

[insensitive]

Lee couldn’t help but agree with him, where communication was concerned. She didn’t imagine that the General had much contact with anyone in the First Order, or even wanted to, for that matter. She could only assume, especially after what Ren had said to her, that it was the same among the people here.

For a moment, she wondered if this “Slip” person was as pleasant to talk to as FN-2187. Which, when she thought about it, she hated the notion of using numbers to address him; anybody, really, but especially him. He seemed like the only other human being aboard this ship.

It didn’t strike her as odd that he and the other stormtroopers wouldn’t be encouraged to ask questions. Given the methods the First Order used, questions would be useless, and dangerous. But it still made her feel uneasy, especially with how casually he said it.

When he flipped the question on her, she paused. “I...I don’t know,” she didn’t think so. But who was she to say they didn’t? Surely, some of them had doubts. Surely they had moments in which they questioned all the fighting, or whether they were fighting for the right side. Surely it wasn’t as uncommon as she might’ve believed.

And yet, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d questioned anything the General had told her to do. She had so much faith in Leia—so much faith in her father.

“I think...you should get back to whatever you need to do,” she suggested. “You might get yourself in trouble if you stay too long.” She offered a small smile, though it didn’t reflect the headache behind her eyes.

~***~

Poe shook his head some, but the crooked smile forming on his face contradicted the gesture. He couldn’t help but see the humor in the situation, though he wasn’t so sure humor was what either of them were aiming for, given the task at hand.

Still, it was a little amusing.

He nodded, glancing around whilst she spoke. Her statement didn’t present much confidence, but then again, it was realistic. Confidence would’ve been a cause for concern. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he responded. “I might be wrong, but it seems like having a ghost for an ally isn’t exactly what Leia had in mind. And besides, I’m finding your company to be more or less enjoyable,” he said, raising a brow.

Moving on, “I’ll find a way in. Last I checked, Cyd’s security isn’t exactly top-tier,” meaning he’d found a way in more than once ensuing his ban, even if only to be kicked out both times. “But nevermind me—what’s your plan?”

 

[Lucyfer]

At least Lee’s answer was honest. FN-2187 could appreciate that. He doubted she had questioned much in front of her superiors, or others. Perhaps she hadn’t thought to question much until she was in this situation, around the people she was made to believe were her enemies. Living, breathing, questioning people. Certainly that was enough to make someone reconsider whether or not this was for the best, right?

He thought so. And he didn’t think that was bad. If things could be handled with fewer deaths, why not?

Of course, she dismissed him soon enough. He almost chuckled at that smile, and her concern for him. It was oddly endearing. “Yeah – yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, “But, uh, is there anything you need? Anything I should put in a request for? Given you’re kind of getting your own room and whatnot now, maybe they plan to furnish it or keep things, you know…nicer?” He shrugged.

He didn’t know, but he was willing to offer any requests she made to the higher-ups in a report, as he clipped his binders back onto his belt.

~***~

“If you want to do your princess proud, no, you really don’t,” Neria was amused with Poe’s assessment of the situation. Even more amused that he thought she had a plan. Of course, she did, but most of it was to wing things once she got to Terex. That was all that mattered. Getting what she needed, at any cost – and there was no planning for that until she saw the situation.

“My plan is to get the information I need, what else?” She chuckled. “Once I know who hired Terex, I move on to deal with them however I need to.”

There was little more time to discuss it – Cyd’s was ahead, one of the few places that actually did keep a bouncer out front, and the Tarkin woman approached, heedless of the potential of being kicked out. ‘Actually….’

“Identifi—”

His words were cut off by a blaster shot to the gut. Stun, but nonetheless, a blaster shot. That was the only weapon she’d had visible, but hardly the most deadly on her person, “I think you can come in, Poe~,” she said in a sing-song, blaster spinning on a finger as she used her other hand to open the door to the dimly lit pub, eyes immediately seeking out Terex – even as several blasters were already moving to point at her, having heard the shot from outside.

 

[insensitive]

Lee felt relief at his response. She already found it easy to be in the presence of this particular trooper—not that being in the presence of any could be entirely comfortable—but perhaps that made her concern for him all the more genuine. If the one commander she’d had the privilege of meeting had been so harsh, she couldn’t imagine what the rest of them were like, and what the punishment would be for conversing with a prisoner in such a way as he was.

Still, she couldn’t help but already feel a bit lonelier; something told her that feeling would only worsen as time went on.

FN-2187’s concern was touching. Smiling a little more genuinely, she shook her head. “I doubt I’m going to have a whole lot of use for nice things. Not to worry, though; if I change my mind, I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to let you know.”

‘FN-2187’. The code went through her head once more, leaving a sour expression on her face. “Don’t you ever get tired of what they call you?” From their earlier conversation, it sounded like that was the case. “Why not just make one up for yourself?”

~***~

Dameron found her confidence somewhat amusing. At the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder if she would be so apt to go with things as they came if she was still sober.

The idea that she might didn’t sound entirely far-fetched.

Poe’s attitude toward the situation dramatically warped, however, when she fired at the bouncer in front of the pub.

He only realized what was happening once it was too late, and even then, he was stunned. He paused a moment, completely still whilst staring down at the man as she moved for the door. He wasn’t dead, at least. He hadn’t expected she would use lethal force, anyway, but he hadn’t expected this either.

His eyes darted upward, following her as she moved to step inside. “Neria—” He practically lunged forward, his first instinct being to get as far away from the pub as possible. There was no way that the shot hadn’t been heard from inside—and the thought was confirmed soon enough.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Poe muttered near-silently beside her, stopping inside the doorframe and watching through hardened eyes as weapons were turned on them. Immediately, there was no sign of Terex that he could see. He couldn’t tell whether that was fortunate or not.

“Well, look who it is…” a burly man behind the bar grumbled, rising from a chair that looked much too small for his build. “You got a lot ‘a nerve showin’ up here, kid.”

Poe closed his eyes, releasing a sigh from his nose at the familiar voice. Then, he lifted his hands up in greeting, putting on a pained smile in an effort to mask the discomfort that had slipped inside the pub. “Cyd,” he said, “long time, no see.”

 

[Lucyfer]

FN-2187 nodded. In time, Lee might come to think of things, but she probably needed to get used to the space and consider her place here – whatever that was. As did the Order, no doubt. This was strange for all of them; they didn’t usually afford prisoners much of a cell to begin with, let alone for a long period.

“All right,” he started to head back to the door, but paused as she mentioned his name.

He shrugged, “Well, the FN corps just calls me Eight-Seven.” It was all he knew. Of course, some dreamt of becoming like Phasma, Cardinal, or Pyre, but he never put much thought into that. What were the odds? “I’ve never really thought of anything else. You can call me Eight-Seven, too. It’s less of a mouthful.”

He knew how long that full name was to say all the time, and most people didn’t go by their full name all the time. It wasn’t Armitage Hux or Enric Pryde. It was usually just Hux or Pryde. FN-2187 also doubted that Snoke was the entirety of the Supreme Leader’s name – although the Captains were probably just those single names.

“It’s the name that was given to me, like any other name. I’m not sure what else I’d go by,” he answered.

~***~

Neria wouldn’t answer Poe, letting her gaze continue to move as someone at the bar spoke out, addressing Poe, not her. It was the already-infamous Cyd. Neria cast a glance in his direction and lifted her hand in greeting.

“I brought him here, it’s my fault. I was told Terex was here.”

“You always did know how to make an entrance.” Terex stepped out of the shadows, dropping a hood, metal chip on the side of his head catching what little light there was. “I thought we agreed on a week, Neer?”

“I thought you knew me better than that.” She made an outraged gesture with the hand holding the blaster, “You left a trail, like a wounded animal. Why did you kill Lovetta?” She pitched her voice higher, near hysterics, but it was false. Just easier to access drunk. Easier to play her emotions looser.

Terex laughed. Somehow, she knew he would. It didn’t phase her in the least, “You come all this way, thinking I killed her? That what the Resistance fighter came to you with, eh? You really must be losing your touch to believe that load of bull,” Terex said, “Or just really hurt yourself to walk into such an obvious trap.” He had known Poe would be with her. Her comment earlier had told him as much.

Cyd had quite the grudge against Poe, which Terex was now using to his advantage.

“You two both ought to just set your weapons down, and maybe, maybe, we can all talk like reasonable adults? Eh, Neer? Poe?” He couldn’t help the teasing tone in addressing Poe, “Also, gotta say – I never thought Leia would get this desperate.”

“Trini showed me.” Neria said it quietly, but loud enough to carry. It was a lie, but that didn’t matter.

It froze Terex. He might dismiss it in a moment – but that momentary question, that fear, that truth, was there.

 

[insensitive]

Lee thought for a few moments, considering how likely it was that he’d ever receive a real, full name; one that wasn’t just a number or a code. She wondered if he even bothered to try and remember who he might’ve been before the First Order—if he’d been someone else to begin with, or if this was all he’d ever known.

There were too many possibilities, she decided, too many things to consider. And she figured it wasn’t the wisest idea to keep berating him with questions about his life, his story. More likely than not, he would ask more questions about her, too. She didn’t want to think about what answers she might have to give.

“What if I gave you a name?” she asked. “Like, just something that stayed between the two of us? I’m not very fond of the idea of referring to you by a number.”

She crossed her arms and stuck her tongue in her cheek, narrowing her eyes on him.

FN. She’d heard a name with those two letters once before. It hadn’t been a very important name to her then, but perhaps it could be, now.

“How about Finn?” She smiled a little. “I think it would suit you.”

~***~

Poe’s attention shifted quickly to the cyborg agent who stepped out from someplace beside the bar, presumably to a backroom—perhaps even a way out of the building, a method of escape.

His expression turned cold. He glared at the man, and what flashed through his eyes in a wave of recollections was his hatred for the man. What was left of the ‘man,’ anyway.

Poe let Neria do the talking. As she did, waving her blaster for effect, he thought the display of emotion was too much to be entirely real, especially not natural. But he wasn’t an idiot; she wouldn’t have come all this way if none of that emotion, none of the anger or the sadness or the resentment, was genuine.

Poe kept his hand on the gun attached to his hip.

“Put our weapons down, eh? That’s what you call reasonable? I don’t think so.” He nearly scoffed. “And I think you and I both know it’s a bad idea to insult her when she’s got a blaster pointed directly at your thick skull.”

“Enough of this!” Cyd brought his hands down on the bar, shaking a few of the tiny, thick glasses sitting on its surface. He glared at Terex, looking for an explanation. “You didn’t say anything about the senator bitch when you came to me. I do not want this business inside my establishment!”

“Establishment,” Poe scoffed. He glanced at Neria, then again at Terex, unease radiating from him in waves.

 

[Lucyfer]

Although Lee wouldn’t see, FN-2187’s eyebrows shot straight up as she suggested giving him a name. His bemused expression was covered by that helmet as she didn’t give him one, but offered – Finn.

“Finn.” He repeated, as if tasting it. It had the ‘F’ and the ‘N’ in it. It was more or less how he’d draw the two together, if he ever had figure it out. Effin would have been his droid name. Finn was close enough to that. “Yeah, Finn.” His smile could likely be heard even through the helmet, as he started to nod.

“I like that.”

He could roll with that. “Finn,” he sounded almost giddy as he repeated it, and then tried to straighten up. Tried to regain a sort of imposition that he didn’t really feel he had, even in the armor, “Okay. I’ll keep that our secret.” Even if he kind of wanted to tell everyone his name was Finn.

He’d get into trouble for that.

Phasma would send him to reconditioning.

“I’ll try to make sure I keep getting assigned to you, Lee.”

~***~

Neria had her answer.

Terex did it. His miniscule freeze reaction was enough to know that, but she needed to know why. Poe’s interjection kept her from that trigger-happy desire to shoot him. Leg, arm, thick skull – but it also brought Terex out of his thoughts. “Oh, she’s not that dangerous with a blaster. Not like her da’,” Terex chuckled. Neria with a blaster didn’t phase him much.

He looked at Cyd with contempt for his outburst, “Oops?” He was just going to have to deal with it now, wasn’t he?

Neria couldn’t quite contain the chuckle that bubbled forth, at Poe’s unease, Terex’s usual devil-may-care attitude, and the increasingly irate wild card that was Cyd. “Senator Bitch? That’s new,” not. “I think I’m going to need another drink if we’re going to continue with the insults, before I come down from this and actually start hurting feelings in return. Why don’t you bring me a shot, Terex? Then maybe I’ll set down this blaster and you can tell me all about how much Lovetta was worth to you.”

“Not enough,” he grumbled, a terribly good-natured, just-joking, smile on his lips. “Granted, I didn’t do it, but saying I did, why, exactly, would I tell you anything? Being silent here seems to be keeping me alive, after all, and I’ve been through IT-O torture, and escaped…almost worse than you. You met Captain Phantasy yet?”

“Not yet,” Neria replied coolly as Terex made his way to the bar.

“Why don’t you pour something there, Cyddy?” Terex continued not to care how upset Cyd was. “You’d like her. Tall, blonde, fucking batshit – you two would get along just fine.”

Neria was about to retort, but she noticed something above. The place really didn’t need a second floor – and then, it was too late to do much at all, as Terex’s head was struck from behind with a baton of sorts, and Mercurial Swift landed on his feet behind Terex.

Terex wasn’t alive when he hit the floor.

Closure was gone.

 

[insensitive]

Lee smiled at the joy in his voice, and a welcome warmth spread into her chest.

With it came a feeling of sorrow as she thought of her friends in the Resistance. As she wondered about Nev, whether or not she was still alive. As she wondered about Leia and whether or not she’d yet realized their absence was cause for concern.

But she put those thoughts out of her mind. She didn’t want to busy herself with thoughts of the General, when she’d kept so much from her.

Her own son, Lee reminded herself, is the monster that shot us down.

Lee nodded, and a small smile remained on her face. “I’d like that,” she said honestly, hoping that she would see him again.

---

Keelee could not sleep for hours into the night. She tossed and turned in the small cot, but it was not the discomfort of the bed itself that kept her from succumbing to sleep, as the bed in the Resistance base she was used to wasn’t a whole lot better. She was kept awake by thoughts of her future—her future here.

But soon she drifted off, her eyelids too heavy to keep open and her body aching for rest. And well into the early hours of the morning, she still slept atop the blankets, at some semblance of peace.

~***~

Poe kept his eyes on his half-drunken companion and the treacherous agent whom he’d been wanting some sort of audience with for so long. He did not interject, finding instead that it was much easier now that the man was right in front of him to imagine all the ways he might make him pay for what he did to his fallen comrade.

He felt the blaster trigger closeby his finger, contemplated how easy it would be to put him in his grave here and now.

But his thoughts were broken by the soft sound of something that was above them. It was hardly noticeable, what with the retorts between Neria and Terex. But for a second, Poe found himself distracted by the sense that something was wrong.

And then Terex dropped to the floor, the broad figure of another man now standing tall behind his lifeless body.

The people around them rose from their seats in their shock, sharing glances with one another. Nobody moved for the door, but Poe could tell everyone was thinking about it. Behind the bar, Cyd himself was backing for the small door that led to the back, and presumably another exit. He moved slowly, glancing between Swift and Neria, and then at Poe. The pilot widened his eyes a fraction, indicating it was a bad idea, but Cyd ignored and bolted for the back exit.

Poe aimed his blaster for Mercurial’s head. Rage blazed through him, not only at the sight of Terex’s limp body against the floor but at the recognition of who this was: a bounty hunter who worked for the First Order. The pilot looked around at the other faces surrounding them.

“Nobody’s getting out of here,” he said, an uncharacteristic harshness in his voice as he nodded toward Swift, “until you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here and what you wanted with that rat bastard.”