Fandom Star Wars: Tenets and Tenacity [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

“It will not be long before we are able to return the galaxy to the proper governance, Governor Tarkin,” Enric Pryde oozed as much confidence as he did fanaticism. The Lieutenant-General of the First Order stood aside the General, Armitage Hux, within the confines of a conference room from where Kylo Ren was barred entry.

Per her request.

Governor Damia Tarkin looked upon the holograph of Starkiller base with perhaps the best damn poker face she’d ever been forced to wear in her life. Subtle interest was reflected in raised brows.

“With this weapon, we will destroy not merely one planet, but the entire Hosnian system, without ever moving close. They will not know where the strikes came from. The Core will fall, and we will rapidly take the rest of the Republic out from under them to install an Empire. And your work—”

“Her work,” Armitage butted in, and Damia shifted her eyes to him.

They were almost a pair – both red heads, both with blue eyes, but where hers were an ocean, his were an ice field. His hair lighter, hers darker.

Yet in casting, he was the villain here, and his ice had never melted under her name, nor did it melt under gaze, “has put the First Order back, often,” Armitage reminded.

“She has insisted on allowing the First Order a voice in the Senate, General,” Pryde shifted, clearly disliking he had to answer to someone far younger than him, and without such a name, or upbringing, as he had. “She has done many things to try and give us inroads.”

‘Actually, I was trying to make your lives harder with that, and expose you all to the Senate so they might do something about your organization.’ Damia didn’t say that, but nodded along with what Pryde assumed.

“I admit my actions may have appeared to be contradictory to you, and in truth it has been. I have been undecided as to whether or not to throw my support behind the First Order. However, seeing what I have seen now, I see you understand the Tarkin Doctrine well,” a subtle smirk touched her lips, “I will take the offer to see Starkiller Base in person. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Pryde agreed, “from there, I can escort you to our Supreme Leader where your alliance can be finalized and documented.”

Damia nodded, “I look forward to meeting the Supreme Leader,” she did not. The last thing she needed was another force bastard trying to break her mind. She’d practiced plenty with interrogation droids, but she’d never had the true displeasure of being exposed to a force user, and she didn’t want to find out all that practice of training her mind was for naught. She knew it had worked for Leia Organa – she withstood Darth Vader – but then, of course, Leia also held the Force.

An advantage that Damia lacked.

“For now, I would like to rest a bit, and perhaps find some food?”

“Of course,” Pryde moved for the door, “there is a cafeteria not far from here,” they stepped into the hall, “just down there—”

“—take a right turn, and then another. I am quite familiar with the build of capital ships,” Damia actually had the schematics of the Finalizer leaked, but Pryde didn’t need to know that. Nor Armitage, though she could feel the heat of his glare, the pounding of a thousand questions in his head.

Her name protected her, but only just.

“In case you get lost finding your way to your quarters,” Armitage spoke up, “you,” he snapped at a Stormtrooper in the hall, who looked a bit out of it, “What is your designation?”

“Uh—FN-2187, Sir.”

“Escort Governor Tarkin to where she needs to be, and see to it she returns to her room.”

“That is hardly necessary—” Enric tried to protest.

“Perhaps on your ship, but I will not allow civilians to roam freely.”

Damia managed not to smile. Oh, she adored how paranoid Armitage was. She adored the conflicts in the ranks. Sure, it made her life significantly more difficult, but she could still work with it.

“I understand,” Damia said, “I would do the same were this my ship,” she accepted it readily, “Shall we, FN-2187?”

“R-right,” he seemed a bit out of it, but stepped up to take charge of his new directive, and he initially took the lead. Once they took that right turn, away from Pryde and Hux, however, Tarkin cut ahead. “Uh, your room is….”

“First I am going where I need to be,” Damia parroted those horribly vague words at the Stormtrooper, “General Hux is allowing me the honor of visiting Commander Dameron to see him escorted to a proper cell, now that interrogations are done. We have a bit of a history.”

She’d never seen the man before in her life, but her spies leaked that he was here, and of high value to General Organa. She had arrived to save him. Now, of course, she considered disregarding that, and going to Starkiller to sabotage it, but…well, no. Somehow, if she was going to tell the galaxy about Starkiller, she needed the backing of Organa.

Who was going to listen to a Tarkin warning about a planet destroyer, when she so casually threatened using one herself?

“Oh! I know where that is!” The Stormtrooper perked up for some reason, and though she knew where she was going, she let him lead, “What’s your uh, history, with him? What’s he like?”

“Oh, the typical rebel scum,” she said, making up bullshit on the spot, “cocky flyboy who thinks he knows better than everyone else, but he’s only good at escaping. Well, until now,” they arrived at the cell, with only a single trooper on guard duty.

Damia grinned at the Trooper, as FN-2187 turned to them, “General Hux wants the prisoner moved.”

Damia disregarded the conversation, except to acknowledge the, “Affirmative,” that would allow her to undo the bindings that held the prisoner who looked like he’d been through hell and back – and though there would likely be no personal recognition from him, she suspected her olive not-quite Imperial uniform style would be enough to earn that initial sneer as she approached with a too-cocky grin.

“Well, well, Dameron, finally got yourself caught, I see,” she chuckled, reaching back for binders and finding the weight of it fall into her hand from FN-2187, “Seems you also told everything as they’re sending you up for execution, but at least you don’t have to waste away in an interrogation chair, so be a good boy,” she placed one hand on the release mechanism, leaning over him to whisper, “and pretend you hate me or neither of us are getting back to General Organa.”

She’d flick the release.

And notice the shadow of FN-2187 raise the butt of his gun to strike her, the other Trooper already out of the room.

She had just enough time to turn and lift her arm so it hit there, rather than the back of her neck, visibly surprised by the betrayal. How did FN-2187 figure her out? He couldn’t have heard the whisper, right?

~***~

General Armitage Hux watched FN-2187 leave with Governor Tarkin for only a second, before he let his attention guide him in the opposite direction. Enric Pryde chose to stride alongside him, much to his irritation. “Should you not be preparing for your departure in the morning?”

The sooner Enric was gone, the better.

If only he could take Kylo Ren with him, but no, Ren was going to be tearing Jakku apart, and Hux had to wait above the planet for the droid to be found, all to locate some Jedi who didn’t want to be found. They ought to just leave Luke in peace. They ought to do so many other things than waste valuable time and resources on this damnable mission of Ren’s.

But no.

Snoke wanted Luke found, too, so here they were.

“Preparations are being done as we speak, General Hux,” Pryde said, calm as ever, though that fanaticism didn’t fade, “You nearly lost us a great alliance, General. Are you aware of the many who follow Governor Tarkin’s every word?”

‘Yes, I’m listening to one such sycophant.’

Armitage bit that insult back, “I am aware of the sway she has, and I am aware of the way she has used it. You give too much credit to her name, Lieutenant-General, and not enough to her actions.”

“I believe you do not understand politics, General.”

‘I understand more than you.’ He played enough petty politics in the First Order, when such a thing shouldn’t be necessary. It should have all been about merit, but no, it wasn’t. Nepotism and favoritism ran rampant. Some would claim he was no exception, but he knew better. His father hated him. He was a bastard.

He earned his position, clawed it right out of his father’s hands, and made sure Snoke saw him for what he was, and how capable he was. They wouldn’t have Starkiller without him, and now he felt that was at risk, even if he couldn’t place it. He didn’t trust Damia Tarkin. She had been…too calm.

Too poised.

Too certain.

It was in stark contrast to how certain she had been she would never join the First Order.

Something Pryde was conveniently forgetting.

“I will admit to not having played them in the Senate, Lieutenant-General, but I will not claim ignorance as to how they are played. Their deceptive nature is precisely the reason we are poised to bring it to an end, and you would do well to remember all politicians are liars,” the General reminded, “If you will excuse me, I have business in the control center,” he needed to stay up to date on anything found on Jakku.

“Of course,” Pryde stepped back, and took another route, allowing Armitage to continue his path.

He could feel a headache coming on.

 

[Purple Stuff]

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JALERA MIRIN || FIRST ORDER

---

Jalera wasn't particularly one to stick around for the intricacies of politics. When she was growing up under the care of Jedi Master Nandel, she was taught to keep political affairs at arms length, that the fall of the Jedi stemmed from being entangled in the snare of things far beyond the religion's typical work. Maybe that was why she was in the predicament that she was - two Jedi joined a political resistance as makeshift soldiers, and now one of them is dead and the other works for the bad guys.

Funny how history comes full circle, she would flatly think to herself at times. Had they never joined the Resistance and gotten involved, she most likely would not be standing where she is today. Without the physical and mental scarring, or the fiery anger and hatred in her heart. Would she have stayed in hiding and lived a more peaceful life on some random planet? She hadn't the time to think of that, though.

Jalera's transition from prisoner to soldier was grueling as it was difficult. Not only did she have to gain the trust of officers just so she can take a step on base without being supervised, but because she had to bend and meet every impossible expectation set for her. Kylo Ren was not an easy man to please. It was a numbing cycle of feeling accomplished and then being torn down to do better.

Though unlike her usual place of trailing right behind the coat tails of her short-tempered master, she was instructed to remain on the ship while Kylo Ren would prepare to arrive on Jakku with a platoon of stormtroopers. Why take them rather than her, she hadn't the slightest idea. But while she frequently voiced her opinions without worry or shame, that wasn't the case when it involved him. In fact, some could even say that the only time Jalera tended to look remotely fearful was when kept on the short leash Kylo Ren placed on her.

So rather than accompany you on Jakku, I'm a glorified babysitter? was the only thing she actually had the nerve to say in response, to which her Dark side master replied that, should something happen on the ship while he wasn't there, she would be to stop it. It made sense. But it also felt like a test. She never liked his tests. Failing was a painful experience, she came to learn.

One of the things hammered into Jalera upon her agreement to join the First Order was that appearance mattered. It was an obsession Armitage Hux had that was odd to her, but if she was to gain favor the way she did in modern day, she had to listen without protest. Prove her obedience and sense of discipline, she remembered being told. Straighten your posture, keep your head up, stand formally and dignified. And while her uniform was primarily tidy, her hair always lacked a certain degree of upkeep where aside from keeping it clean and relatively healthy she only cared enough to keep most of it out of her face. Not particularly one to style it. She did however maintain the habit of walking with her hands behind her.

But aside from these little things she learned in her early years with the First Order, she held a particular dislike for Armitage. He was condescending and power hungry in her eyes. A sense of arrogance, from where she didn't know, that she believed was out of place for someone lowly like him. In simple terms, their superiority complexes clashed quite heavily. Armitage believed himself to be what the galaxy needed in a leader, and Jalera rarely saw other people as equals. To be fair, it was a mindset fed to her.

The clacking of her boots against tile was practically nonexistent compared to the stomping steps of scattering stormtroopers that traversed the halls for one reason or another. Her tired amber eyes were just barely too lazy to try and follow one of them and see where they would go. Instead she simply continued on her own way, her hands clasped behind her under her bellowing cloak and her gaze fixed forward. That was until she noted the familiar sight of fiery, coiffed hair.

He looked irritated, something that made her eyes perked up immediately, and she purposely slowed her step.

"Red in the face already, General?" Her eyebrows were raised with interest. "Had I been a distance farther, I would have mistaken you for a Tatooine sunset. Did someone manage to get on your nerves before I could?"


~***~

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POE DAMERON || RESISTANCE PILOT

---

If someone were to ask Poe Dameron about the things he was confident in, the list he would have would be dreadfully long. He was a decent blaster shot with a pretty face, had good leadership skills, crazy amounts of charisma. But his crown jewel of confidence came from his ability to fly. The man a damn good pilot, maybe even one of the best in the galaxy as of now...Well, he would proclaim himself as such in the presence of others, but to be frank, who would even challenge the statement? No other pilot has whenever he thrust that title upon himself, and his skills were sharp and precise as can be, so why not boast when his skills lead him to be quite the escape artist when the time calls?

Well, because boasting is like a jinx, he soon came to learn. He might have been able to talk big for some time, but when face-to-face with the First Order, more specifically Kylo Ren himself, he was quite powerless outside of his own ship. He was lucky enough that he didn't have the map on him, nor did he see what it looked like. He handed it off to his companion, a BB-unit droid that was more loyal to him that any human he's met in the galaxy. He managed to give that fragment of the map off to BB-8 and told him to travel as far as he could out of sight and out of mind of the First Order. That way, they only had one prisoner with limited knowledge.

As genius of a plan that was, though, he was not left unscathed. Interrogation was as rough as he expected it to be when it came to being physically beaten, But Poe knew better than to talk, especially thanks to his days as a spice runner. The only way they would get any sort of answers out of him is if they forced it out of him...boy, did he wish he never thought of that. To be probed through the Force felt like a violation - a painful, stress-inducing violation. The only way he could describe how he felt was exhausted and aching. He was itching to break out, to be free and find poor BB-8. He truly did hope that the droid was unharmed and unseen by the wrong people. The last thing he needed was for his companion droid to be scrapped, or worse, intercepted by the enemy.

His eyes felt heavy, his injuries stinging just from the air around him alone. The lids of his eyes had just began to lower when he suddenly heard the hiss of the door, suddenly making him alert again. His eyes were wide, his head straightened from it's droopy state. That was when his vision could see Damia in clear view. Did he know her? No. But was he an idiot? Arguably, also no. The uniform was enough for him to roll his eyes and assume that phase two of whatever torture he was supposed to receive was about to begin. Nothing good every came from anyone with an Imperial insignia on their clothes.

Even her condescension was expected at this point, the fact that she taunted him for his predicament - being captured and forced to give everything he knew. All he could do was sneer. It was easy for everyone to say I would never tell but it was a lot harder when the Force actively manipulated your head into showing the enemy. Not everyone has experienced the feeling of their head getting ready to explode, or the sudden fire in their nerves. Those who did would have never blamed him for losing whatever confidential information he held to someone like Kylo Ren.

And yet in the midst of getting ready to toon out the woman taunting him, there was something that immediately caught his attention. The message she whispered about the two of them going to see Leia. Why would she help him? What did she have to gain from the Resistance as a sympathizer of the Galactic Empire? He wanted to think about it, truthfully he wanted to rack his brain for some type of reasoning. But at the same time, he'd rather not lose his chance at escape just because he was thinking instead of acting.

He sucked in a breath and held it in his chest, his heart hammering against his ribs as he watched her finally triggered the release of his restraints. He didn't even get a chance to move his tense muscles before the stormtrooper still in the room attempted to knock out his savior. Thankfully, she was quick enough to turn around and block the attack. His eyes were wide, flickering between her and the soldier that was now keeping them trapped in the room. The blaster was pointed at them, as if prepared to shoot, but there was something odd about this stormtrooper. His body language wasn't sharp and precise, no, he almost looked...hesitant. Scared? What kind of stormtrooper was scared to do its job-?

"I don't want to hurt either one of you," the soldier spoke through his helmet, a surprisingly startled voice coming out, "So here's what we're going to do - I'm going to leave with the prisoner, and I'll make sure you won't get in trouble, Governor."

Poe's eyebrows furrowed as he swallowed thickly, trying to relieve the dryness in his throat as he looked over at the woman who was almost attacked. "What is this? What's going on?" He pointed at FN-2187 and exasperatedly added "You're telling me this isn't one of your guys?"

 

[Lucyfer]

The headache arrived, literally and figuratively, as Armitage’s eyes came to rest on a figure of terror within the First Order. It was something the First Order did not need. Oh yes – they adhered to the Tarkin doctrine that fear would keep people in line, but there was a degree of fear that was only going to make people bite back.

Kylo Ren and his apprentice, Jalera Mirin, were two such figures that only inspired Hux to want to bite the hands that kept them all in line, just to remove them from his otherwise perfect Order. Not even Pryde inspired such dislike, and thoughts of disloyalty.

Pryde, he could deal with.

The Force users?

They only dealt with each other because Snoke kept them all in line.

“I am sure you are aware, Apprentice, that Lieutenant-General Pryde has allowed a civilian on our ship, and seems intent on allowing that civilian special privileges they are undeserving of,” although he assumed Jalera would take Pryde’s side on everything where it annoyed him. “Where is Kylo Ren?”

She was usually following him.

It wasn’t that Armitage preferred Ren to Mirin, but with him not present, it was…unusual. “Never mind, you can tell him,” as in, she could leave him the hell alone, “that I have no updates from Jakku yet on the location of the droid,” his gaze cut ahead, “I will be in the control room if Ren needs me, gathering that information so we can leave this space.”

Although they likely couldn’t leave until Enric left, because Force forbid they disrupt his timeline with the Tarkin he wanted to treat like royalty.

Ridiculous.

She had done nothing to deserve such treatment, and Armitage was looking forward to when it all blew up in Pryde’s face, and he had to answer for his stupidity in trusting the woman who had hindered the Order at every turn.

Worshipping the old ways got no one anywhere.

It certainly wasn’t helping Kylo to worship Vader. Armitage wouldn’t worship the image of Wilhuff.

~***~

Governor Tarkin laughed outright at the Stormtrooper’s declaration of taking the prisoner and making sure she didn’t get hurt. It was enough to startle the man with the blaster, as Poe Dameron reacted to the statement, as well. She managed to get her laughter under control, as FN-2187 asked, “What do you mean not one of her guys?”

The Governor regained her poise, “FN-2187, I am breaking Poe Dameron out of here,” she stated flatly, honestly, “You are welcome to join us. It will actually make it far more convincing if he has a Stormtrooper escort alongside me. I presume you know the best hangar to use at this hour?”

The Stormtrooper was still. Damia could imagine the wheels in his head turning. “But I thought—aren’t you—what.”

“Politics and explanations can wait, I believe?” She glanced to Poe for confirmation of that, before returning her gaze to the Stormtrooper, “We all have our reasons. I will not ask for yours right now.”

“Er, yeah, I—I suppose,” FN-2187 agreed, starting to get giddy. It was obvious in his voice. He couldn’t hide the way the nerves moved his voice, unable to stay at one volume. “You’re really not with the Order?”

“By Orrineswa, I don’t know what I have to do at this point to convince people of this,” she rolled her eyes, though she knew the answer. Not wear Imperial attire, not promote centralized governance, and probably not abuse her heritage at every opportunity to make people uncomfortable.

But it was too much fun.

“I have some standards, and baby Sith Lords with temper tantrums and General Sux fall far below my standards.”

FN-2187 suppressed a laugh at ‘General Sux’.

Barely.

“Forgive me, Dameron, I do not think we have been introduced. Usually, I’d buy someone a drink before putting binders on them,” she held out the binders, and would indeed take his wrists if he didn’t move, to make things more convincing for leaving the room, “but my name is Damia Tarkin. I think that will explain the Stormtrooper’s reaction, but your other questions can wait until we are off this ship. I am sure you understand; I’ll buy you that drink when we get elsewhere.”