Rust and Stardust

Chapter VII

"You gotta square the fuck up, Fireith!" Rowan pounded his chest, imitating a wookiee's war cry. We were in the midst of hand-to-hand combat training, and he had knocked me flat on my ass.

"Officer Crix! We will refrain from such language and behavior in my gymnasium." General Hux ordered through grit teeth, observing us from his elevated balcony. "And Officer Fireith, be mindful of your position. You're standing as if you have two left feet, it's killing me to watch." He criticized, rubbing his temples.

Brushing strands of flyaway hairs out of my face, I regained my footing. My raised and bandaged fists were eye level. Blisters lining the back of my ankles screamed for their release from the ill-fitting boots. You only need a couple of more days to break into them entirely, I tried to reassure myself. Kick his ass.

"What, are you waiting for me to –" the pilot's taunt was cut short as my fist met with his jaw, sending him stumbling back on his feet. In seconds, I drew the mock blaster that all trainees were administered from my holster. My boot stomped down on Rowan's shoulder and I aimed the gun between his eyes.

"Square up, flyboy." I smirked, raising both brows. Grinning, Rowan shook his head.

"Incredible, I am both absolutely terrified and aroused. If you pull that on the Resistance, they'll be crawlin' to join us in no time."

"Shut up." Laughing, I kicked his side. The pilot propped himself on his forearms, brushing off dust.

Hux's clapping ended our banter.

"There it is! That's the fighter I knew was in you. Did everyone see that?" The General addressed the other dozen or so stormtroopers, pilots, and assassins in training. "That's the level of swiftness you need if you want to stand a chance in battle. Fireith. Crix. Again, please."

---

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say Hux is actively trying to kill us. He made us do that routine what – twenty times?" Rowan was wiping sweat from his brow, doubled over with a hand resting on his knee. Training had ended for the day, and eager chatter about lunchtime filled the air.

"Seventeen." I corrected, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. While I had no complaints about the looks of my newly-assigned steel toed boots, my whole body ached from their constricting leather that made its way to my knees. "I guess that's what we get for being the best, huh?"

"I guess that's what I get for being the only one not afraid to talk to you." Rowan said with an uncomfortable laugh as he stretched his arms behind his back.

"Maybe so." I mumbled. He was right – granted, it had only been around a month since formal training began, but hardly any of the other trainees have approached me other than to give an impersonal "hello," which was more out of formality than anything else.

"Alright, bad joke." The pilot admitted, following me out of the gymnasium towards the mess hall. "They're just...intimidated."

"They could easily come up and talk to me like you did."

"Not everyone is as suave with the ladies like First Order Pilot Rowan Crix." He replied, nudging my shoulder. "Sometimes you have to make the first move. Now let's get outta here before my super awesome muscles wither away from starvation, huh?"

---

As always, the food was inedible. I moved around my mixture of peas and whatever that unknown orange substance was on my tray in circles, barely tuning in whatever Rowan was saying.

"What about you?" Before I could realize, his face was an inch away from mine. A trickle of the putrid looking mush dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"What?" I asked, annoyance lacing my tone. Training had worn me out, and Rowan's earlier comment was still ingrained in my head. Not to mention, I had silently remembered on the way here that today was the first day of mental training with the Commander. I kept that piece to myself, knowing Rowan would explode with questions knowing I was meeting with our leader one-on-one.

"What made you want to join The First Order? I know Ren sought you out, but, you wouldn't have agreed to join if something about the Order wasn't appealing."

"I...uh..." My voice trailed off as the images of my family burned in the back of my mind. This was probably the only topic that I didn't want to discuss with Rowan. Or anyone. Talking about their deaths made it real, and I would be unable to detach myself from it, as I preferred to do.

"Your family must be proud, huh? Mr. and Mrs. Fireith have a framed photo of you on their mantle?" Could this guy read my mind?

My fork fell from my hand and my eyes met with the floor. Tears threatened to fall over the sides. A hot burst of anger flamed up in my core. Who the hell did Rowan think he was to just assume I had a family? To assume I'm like him?

Without hesitation, the tray flew off the table and into the wall. The crashing of the silverware and glass was the most relaxing music I've ever heard.

Quiet hushed over the diners, and one hundred heads turned to look at the spectacle I made. Rowan stared at me blankly, jaw slung open. I guessed it was his first time seeing the Force in action. Coming to, he closed his mouth and wiped his chin with a napkin. Sanitizers dispersed to clean the mess. The underlying murmur of chatter resumed as if nothing had happened at all.

We looked at each other for a minute in silence.

"I...understand." The pilot said, breaking the awkwardness. His usual easygoing demeanor disappeared. "My brother was shot and killed in the line of duty by a Resistance fighter when I was fifteen. From that moment on, I just knew. This is what I had to do for my family and myself."

The irritation and grief coursing through my veins slowed their pace. This was the first time either of us had been vulnerable in front of the other, and no other place for that to happen than the cafeteria.

"So, uh, anyways...with your self defense skills - how'd you get that scar?" Rowan attempted, and failed, to change the subject to something else. "I've been wanting to ask you since we met. A souvenir from junk dealing?"

I couldn't help but laugh this time. After all, he was trying. I did just launch a tray full of food and sharp knives at the wall in front of him.

"I got it as a final fuck you from the Resistance." I snarled with a smirk and raised brow.

Rowan sat back in his seat, pushing his tray away from him. "Oh, shit. They really were out for you, weren't they?"

"You could say that. Junk dealer extraordinaire one day, galactic bounty prize the next. I lead a wild life."

"I just hope I can keep up." I heard the pilot whisper as I stood up. It was nearing half past thirteen o'clock, the time Hux instructed me to meet with him to go to meet with the Commander.

My legs seemed a bit shakier than expected.

"Hey, Crix. I gotta go, okay? And yes," I interrupted him as he was about to respond, "it is official Darth business. Catch you later."

Overcome by nerves, I left Rowan for the second time that month by himself with another word.  

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A/N: yikes sorry for the super short and kinda poopy chapter. This semester is starting to pick up and I'm not able to dedicate as much time as I would like to RaS. Therefore, I'll be changing the update schedule to every other Thursday. Thank you guys for your support and understanding!! 

and also @stxrmborn wants me to tell you: gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang