SUMMARY: Kylo Ren attempts to find a negotiator from the lower ranks of the First Order.
I'm introducing another OC character in this chapter. I imagine Dylan O'Brian in this role, a.k.a. Stiles from Teen Wolf.
"S-sir?" The technician stutters.
Kylo Ren sighs inside his mask. He's standing at the end of the meeting room, facing a giant window that overlooks the port.
If he has to repeat himself one more time...
He whips around, so abruptly the technician jumps. The man is trembling, fighting to look directly at the blankness of the mask.
"What can you tell me about the Lords of Asphodel?"
"Ah." The technician says this he understands, but he's clearly confused. "The Lords of Asphodel, yes. They are..." His eyes drift up. "A gang? In the Outer Rim?"
Kylo stares coldly. "Where are you from again?"
"F-Fornax, sir," the technician stutters. "In the Mid Rim."
"Get out." Kylo turns to the port. A second passes, and he hears nothing. "Now."
Footsteps recede to the end of the room. A door whirs open, and they're gone.
Kylo gazes at the port, hands clasped behind him. Throngs of black-clad figures— technicians, engineers, supply workers— dart to and fro in a frenzy of motion that looks like chaos but is organized nonetheless.
He shakes his head.
Over a thousand. A thousand.
That's how many names were submitted when he sent the command every officer in the lower ranks of the First Order. The request was simple— Identify at least one person per unit who's overqualified for their current position, by education, skill, or intelligence, someone who's a strong communicator, who shows promise in leadership, and most importantly, is familiar with Outer Rim planets and politics.
A thousand names, a thousand possibilities.
A team of officers spent the last week vetting the pool, whittling it down to five hundred, then two hundred, then fifty, and finally fifteen.
Fifteen finalists, supposedly the best in all the lower ranks, gems in a sea of insignificant pebbles.
And he just spent the last hour watching twelve of them tremble like children as they stuttered out their histories and gave ignorant answers to his questions.
Kylo tightens his jaw.
Idiots. Small-minded fools.
He honestly didn't expect anything different. This past hour has only been a confirmation of what he already knew.
The lower ranks of the First Order are filled with rubes, people with no concept of the galaxy beyond their own corner of it, their backwater home planets and their menial roles in this organization. They aren't fit to represent the First Order and its mission in any capacity, much less oversee complex negotiations with lawless, guerilla groups in the Outer Rim.
No. This was a mistake, a waste of time. He doesn't need some fool who spends most of his life doing routine maintenance on supply transports.
He needs Rey.
Suddenly, a comm crackles, interrupting his thoughts. "The next one has arrived, sir," a voice announces. "Shall I send him in?"
Kylo grabs the device, bringing it to his mask. "No. Send him away. Send all of them away. The interviews are done."
"Yes, sir."
He hears the response just as he returns the comm to his belt. He clasps his hands behind his back, resuming his observance of the port. He watches the black-clad figures scurry along, each one focused intently on his task, oblivious to the bigger picture, how he's part of a larger whole.
No.
These people... None of them are the kind of negotiator he needs. They're no more fit than any of the superior officers.
These Outer Rim groups are a rough lot, violent, aggressive, rebellious. He needs someone who understands this, who understands how people can become this way. He needs someone who knows what it means to scrape by to survive, someone fearless, someone who could stare down the barrel of a blaster without blinking. He needs someone who won't be easily intimidated but is also personable, a good listener.
And as far as he's concerned, there's only one person who fits this description, who is exactly what he needs.
He sighs as he pictures her, sees her on the Falcon criticizing his indiscriminate destruction of the Outer Rim rabble, challenging his use of holos to cast them as violent gangs when the truth is more complex. What was it she said?
"You may be able to fool the galaxy but you can't fool the people living in these systems."
He sighs.
She was right. It gives him no joy to admit it, but she was right.
They're already having problems in Salient and Felucia, especially Felucia. The majority of population was downright revolutionary after they took out the Brotherhood. They've had to flood the system with troops and set up a blockade just to keep the planets from descending into chaos.
Salient's not much better. There haven't been as many riots, but it seems a Zidon-like network is already forming. Local minors are pilfering a portion of the Varium to illegal traders. He just gave the order to discharge them from their mining teams, a very unpopular move with the locals and an inconvenience to the First Order. The mines on Salient are particularly difficult to navigate. The locals know it by instinct, but outsiders? It could take them years to learn...
Without thinking, Kylo lifts his hands and unclicks his mask, bringing it overhead. He turns from the window, walking to a long, rectangular table in the center of the room and placing his mask on the surface. He pulls out a chair, sinking onto it.
He sees it now. He sees his mistake. He was so eager to consolidate power, gain control of the galaxy's resources, that he neglected to think through the consequences of destroying groups worshipped as heroes. He thought it would be more efficient to destroy them and manage any large-scale blow back with holos, but now he sees it's the opposite.
Nothing makes this more obvious than comparing resource extraction in Delphon verses Felucia.
The entire population of Delphon is bending over backwards to give the First Order anything and everything it needs to mine its ores. A quarter of the former slaves, people who were forced to spend years in the mines, have voluntarily joined their extraction teams to help them.
But Felucia? Despite gaining access to the system's mines a full month before Delphon, they've only just begun the extraction. With all the riots and bombings, they've spent half their time just trying to keep the damn mines open and safe to work in.
Yes, he sees it now. He sees that if he wants to establish a strong, lasting hold over these systems, it's necessary to work with the local populations, not against them. And to do that, he needs a negotiator for organizations like Zidon and the Brotherhood. He needs someone who can get him access to a system's resources without starting a damn rebellion.
But there isn't a single individual in the First Order who's up for the task. It's just one more sign, one more indicator of the cold truth.
The First Order isn't ready. They're simply not ready for this transition, what they need to become. For years, they were only a war machine. Power was the goal, wrenching it from the feeble, incompetent hands of the New Republic and seeing the vision of the Empire come to life, absolute control over the galaxy.
But they were so concerned with getting power, they rarely considered what they'd do when they got it.
Well, now they have it, and he is the one who has to think about this question, what to do with the power they worked so hard to get. He is the one who needs to transform a martial organization into an effective governing body.
He must bring about a change.
He needs to invest less effort in war and more in diplomacy. He needs to stop making enemies and start making allies. He needs to make decisions not for the benefit of the First Order but for the galaxy because now these two things are aligned. But this change, the necessity of it... Sometimes he feels like he's the only person who sees it.
For most of the leadership, the First Order is still a war machine. They cannot think, cannot reason beyond the martial sphere, beyond the need to build weapons and armies, to squelch rebellions and destroy their enemies. They still need to do these things, but this can't be all they are anymore, not if they want to actually keep the power they fought so hard to win.
Kylo sighs, crushed under the weight of responsibility, the reality that he must do this alone.
For now.
He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. He gazes across the table, then rises, walking to the window. He stares at the port, withdrawing into his thoughts, so deep he no longer sees the image before him.
He only sees Rey.
He needs her. He just needs her.
It's not that he can't manage this transition on his own. He can. But things would be so much easier if she were here. He'd get things right the first time. She could help him see what he can't, think through all possible scenarios and outcomes, then make the best decisions.
But she's being so damn stubborn. How can she be so blind? How can she not see that she's meant for this, that she's meant to rule beside him, help him transform the First Order into what it needs to be?
She's already doing it, unofficially. She can't keep herself from doing it. He knows there's a part of her that yearns for power, the ability to reshape the galaxy to be better. She just refuses to recognize this, honor what it means.
Does she really think she's meant to devote her life to serving a lost cause, or saving an insignificant handful of slaves on Outer Rim planets? How can she not see that what happened on Delphon is just the smallest taste of what she could accomplish if she joined him? She claims to care so much about life in the galaxy... So why is it that she rejects a position that would grant her immeasurable power to serve life on the grandest of scales, to make decisions that would affect billions?
He just can't understand it. He can't understand her unwillingness to embrace her destiny.
This stubbornness of hers, this dogged blindness, is the only thing holding her back from giving in to what they both want.
At this, he closes his eyes, overcome by a sudden rush of emotions. That powerful yearning tugs at his heart, an all-consuming desire, maddeningly unfulfilled, all the more maddening because he knows how much the feeling is shared, how much she wants the exact same thing. If she would just let herself have it, just open her eyes and see the truth...
It's driving him insane, this waiting, having to restrain himself.
He just wants to go to her, just jump on a ship right now and go to her, refuse to leave until she comes back with him. He is so sick of waiting for the bond to bring them together. He wants her here, right now, today and every day after it.
He clenches his fists, focusing on this desire as though he could will it into reality through the power of thought alone. It churns. It aches. It burns in him. It's so intense that he hardly feels it, almost misses it, when a subtle feeling seeps in at his core, gentle but familiar.
His eyes fly open.
Did he just... trigger the bond?
No, Surely not...
He turns from the port, already searching for her, the thought lingering, how uncanny it is that this is happening just when he was thinking about how much he wants her here.
Maybe it's a coincidence. He's thought about it before and nothing happened. But maybe something was different this time? Or maybe something's changed, or is changing...?
Before he has time to consider the questions, she materializes before him, just by the table.
She stands, calm and relaxed, head bowed, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. She looks up, expectant.
A smile tugs at Kylo's lips.
He senses it, how happy she is to see him.
"Hey." She steps forward.
"Hey." He moves to meet her.
She grows warm as they approach one another, stopping with just a foot between them.
She parts her lips but doesn't speak, like she forgot what she meant to say. She has that look, the one where she's lost in his eyes.
He thinks about it, reaching for her face, bringing his lips to hers...
But if he does that, she'll snap out of the trance and push him away just like she did last time. So instead he just stares at her, enjoying the moment, being the object of her infatuation. It's better to just let her experience the feeling, how much she wants to be with him.
"What were you just thinking about?" He breaks the silence. "Before the bond?"
She immediately groans. "Not that again." She brushes past him. "Hasn't that question gotten us into enough trouble already?"
"Rey..."
"Ben, no." She whips around. "This whole sharing what we were thinking about before the bond? It was a bad idea. A horrible idea. I'm sorry I ever suggested it."
"Why? What's so horrible about it?"
She crosses her arms. At first, she looks determined, ready to answer, but the seconds pass, and she says nothing. She looks away, brows furrowed, desperately searching her mind. Soon, he feels her grow self-conscious, like she's hiding something.
That's what he thought. She just doesn't want to admit that she was thinking about him, about wanting to be with him.
"Rey..."
"No." She snaps up. "I don't want to do this, and you've used up all your favors." She points at him before turning and heading for the window.
He rolls his eyes, moving to join her. "Rey, we'll never learn to control the bond if we don't examine it, and the only way—"
"What makes you think we're meant to control it, huh? Have you ever considered that maybe being out of control is the point?"
"What? Rey, that doesn't make sense. What could we possibly gain from randomly—"
"Ben, how many times has the bond brought us together at the worst possible moment, when you were angry, or annoyed, or uncertain?"
"I don't know." He twitches. "Most of the time, I guess."
"Exactly! If we could control the bond, that wouldn't happen. In fact, if we could control the bond, nothing would happen. Practically everything we've experienced together would never have occurred at all. It's because we can't control it that we've been forced to engage with one another, interact at times when we would never want the other there—"
"But that's changing."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." He leans in. "Lately you've been showing up at exactly the right time."
Her face is even but he feels the words hit like a cold truth. She turns to the port, arms crossed.
"I'm not alone in that, am I?" He asks quietly.
She doesn't answer.
Her lack of response tells him what he wants to know.
"So, explain that. What's changed? Why is the bond evolving this way?"
She pushes out an exhale, reluctant to answer. He knows there's only one that makes a damn bit of sense...
"Well..." She hesitates. "I'm not sure I can say it's a pattern yet, on my end, at least, but..." She presses her lips together. "Maybe..." She shifts a little
"Maybe the closer we get to fulfilling the bond's purpose, the closer we get to controlling it," he finishes for her.
She stiffens. "You... you might be right."
A spark lights in his chest.
"At least, you might be right about the bond's purpose..." She swallows. "That... that it wants us to be together."
He swells with satisfaction, stepping closer.
"But that is not it's only purpose," she adds hastily. "And I still don't think we're meant to control it. I think the bond brings us together at certain times so we can develop a relationship and... change."
"Change?"
"Yes, change."
"Change how?" He darkens. If she says a word about him becoming Ben Solo again...
"Well..." She purses her lips. "For example, think about the last time we saw each other. I'd just done something I'd never done before, something unbelievable." She widens her eyes. "I should have been terrified, and I was. I was terrified, but then you were there, and you listened to me, put me on the memory walk, gave me some advice and..." She trails off. "By the time you left I wasn't scared anymore. Instead, I felt excited, thinking about all the possibilities, what I could do."
"So..." He knits his brow. "I don't understand. You're saying the bond is meant to change... you?"
"It's meant to change both of us. We're both changing because of the bond, because of our relationship. We're becoming something different, something better."
"You think I make you better?" His lips turn up.
"Well, yes, in a way." Her cheeks turn pink. "I just... I can't help but think back to when the Force awakened in me, how scared I was, how lost, feeling very small yet part of something big. It was so overwhelming. It still is but..." She trails off. "These days, I feel more excited than scared. The idea of being powerful, having some great destiny, makes me want to challenge myself, see what good I can do. More and more, I like the idea of being powerful, and I think that's because of you."
"Because of me?"
"Yes." She steps close. "You're the one who told me my power is boundless, that I could be something different than what's come before. And it's not just the things you say and do, it's you, being around you, hearing your perspective. Power never scares you. To you, power is opportunity, and the more I'm with you, the more I see in a similar light. It's like..." She extends a hand, fingers spread like a claw. "Somehow, I'm starting to absorb your aspect, the way you are." She draws her hand to her heart.
"Hm." He quirks his head.
He likes this idea. It's exactly what he wants, for her understanding of power to evolve, but until now, he's thought of this as happening through his encouragement. It never occurred to him that she could be absorbing something from him through the bond, the connection between them.
It's an interesting concept. He's not sure that's what's happening, but it's worth considering. There's a certain allure to the idea that she's becoming more like him just by being around him.
Then again, there's another side to the coin, something unsettling.
If she's absorbing his aspect, what he is absorbing from her?
He suppresses a shudder. The question is disquieting, prodding at something vulnerable. He keeps it at arm's length, a vague threat in the back of his mind.
"You don't agree." Rey looks disappointed.
"It's not that I don't agree..." He starts carefully. "Maybe you're onto something. Maybe you're not. But there's really no way to test your theory, so we'll never know for sure. What we can test is whether or not we can control the bond by examining what triggers it."
Rey rolls her eyes, stepping away from him.
"Come on, Rey." He follows her. "I'm not saying that you're wrong, just that we need to be logical about this, and that means focusing on things we can measure, trying to detect patterns. If there's even a chance we could control what triggers the bond, don't you think that's worth exploring?"
She groans under her breath, but he can sense her relenting. "Fine." She sighs. "Fine. But you first. What were you thinking about the bond brought me here today?"
Kylo swells with satisfaction, stepping toe to toe with her. "I was thinking about you."
Her eyes flicker.
"I was thinking about how much I want you here, with me."
She stares at him, lips parted. He sees it on her face as well as he feels it, that warm glow, everything he feels for her reflected back at him.
"Rey..." He leans closer. "It was like I triggered the bond. I just thought about you, how much I wanted you here and then... you were here."
"Has that happened before?"
"No," he concedes.
"Well..." She looks away now. "Then there's no telling if that was a trigger or not. Maybe it was just coincidence."
"I don't think it was, Rey. It felt different, like I was calling out to you. Then you arrived and..."
"What?"
"I think..." He lifts a hand to her face, brushing back a strand of hair. "We were calling out to each other."
She gulps, suddenly looking vulnerable. She steps around him, moving to the window.
His shoulders drop. "Rey..." He walks up behind her. "Why can't you just admit it? I felt it when you got here. You were thinking the same thing I was, weren't you?"
She keeps her back to him, drawing in her shoulders to make herself small. "Yes," she says quietly.
"Then, that's it." He reaches out, turning her to face him. "That was the trigger. We both thought about wanting to be with each other at the same time, and together we willed it to happen."
"Ben, just because we happened to think similar things at the same time doesn't mean it was a trigger. It still could just be a coincidence."
"Are you seriously not willing to even consider this?"
"Of course I am, but you said we needed to be logical, and one time doesn't equal a pattern. Besides, there are other factors to consider."
"What factors?"
"Like the fact that the bond bought me to you and not the other way around. If we were both thinking the same thing, why do that?"
"Maybe..." His eyes drift up. "I thought about it first?"
"How long were you thinking about it before you felt the bond?"
"I don't know. A few minutes, maybe."
"Ha!" She points at him. "Then that can't be the reason because I was thinking about it for much longer."
"Were you now?"
She immediately turns red. She looks away, suppressing embarrassment, and he can't stop his lips from twinging up.
"So, we can eliminate that as a possibility." She tucks an invisible strand behind her ear. "Maybe the next question should be about context. Why were you thinking about me?"
"Why does that matter?"
"Because, haven't you wondered why the bond brings you to me sometimes, and me to you other times?"
"Sure. Of course."
"Ok, well, I think context is the answer to that question. The bond evolved so we could be in each other's surroundings for a reason. Maybe it chooses particular times when we're experiencing something the other needs to see, and maybe that's why it's not meant to be in our control."
"Rey." He groans, throwing his head back. "What is it with you and not controlling the bond? Are you not tired of being pulled away without any say in the matter?"
"I am, but I think if we could control it, then we wouldn't be getting what we need from it."
"And what do we need?"
"To change. The only discernable pattern we've found so far is that the bond brings us together when we're feeling vulnerable or frustrated and those moments are the ones where we stand the most to gain from one another— to hear the other's perspective, to learn and grow. Like right now. There's something about this room, this context that brought me here. Maybe something I need to help you with?"
His eyes flit up.
"Come on, Ben. It can't hurt. Tell me why you're here, what it was about being here that made you think of me."
He crosses his arms, turning to face the port. "I was..." He holds in a sigh. "Trying to find a negotiator from the lower ranks like you suggested. For the past hour, I've been reviewing the finalists."
"Really?" She's clearly pleased by this. "And...?"
"And they're all idiots, every one of them," he growls. "Rey, you don't understand the kinds of people who are in the First Order's lower ranks. They're small-minded people. They have no ambition, no foresight. They can't see farther than what's in front of them. It makes them good supply workers and technicians and engineers but piss poor at everything else. They don't have what it takes to be the kind of negotiator I need. No one in this entire damn organization is the kind of negotiator I need." He glares at the port.
Rey watches him, waiting.
"I need you," he says quietly. "It's not just negotiation. No one in the First Order is ready for what we need to do. To them, it's like we're still at war. They're too fixed on the past, on what we were, to look to the future to and see what we must become."
"And what's that?"
"An empire." He snaps to her. "The government that rules the galaxy, that brings order and prosperity, a government that inspires not only fear but respect. That's what we must become." He turns to face her, silently urging her to see the truth, that she is meant to be part of how this comes into being.
She stares evenly a moment.
Then, she shifts to the window, stepping closer for a better look. She gazes at the black-clad figures scurrying about, lost in her thoughts. He watches, sensing her emotions. They're contradictory, frustration grating against admiration and something underneath, something like... heartache?
She rests her forehead on the window. "Is there...?" She hesitates. "Is there anyone in the First Order who... Who you would consider a friend?"
Kylo jerks back. "What?"
"You heard me." She turns to him. "Do you have any friends in the First Order?"
"Rey." He grunts. "Why do you think I wear a mask?" He gestures to the table. "I'm no one's friend here. I'm the Supreme Leader. I stand above everyone. When people see me, they should fear and respect me as their sovereign, not as a friend."
She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Then, is there anyone here who's company you find..." She searches for the right word. "Pleasant?"
He turns to the port.
"Or maybe just personable, an interesting character?"
He clasps his hands behind him.
"Intriguing?"
Nothing.
"Tolerable?"
He squints at the port, thinking. Several seconds pass.
"Ben, are you kidding me!?" She gapes at him. "There's not a single person in the First Order you find at least tolerable on a personal level?"
"Rey." He twitches. "Why are you asking me this? What does this have to do with anything we've been talking about? Or is this it?" He sneers. "Is this why you think the bond brought you here today? To pester me about not having friends?"
She sucks in a breath. She's on the verge of retort when something shifts in her. Instead of answering, she turns to the window. "Ben, when you look out there..." She gestures at the port. "What do you see?"
"It just a port, Rey. It's technicians and supply workers preparing transports for take-off, a few officers."
"You don't see people? Individuals?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, don't you ever look down there and wonder about them, all these people working for you? Don't you ever wonder about their lives, what they worry about, whether or not they're happy here?"
"What would be the point of that?"
"To be a human being!" She practically yells this. "And..." She regains composure. "To be a better leader."
He narrows his eyes.
"Ben." She looks at him. "You say you want to change the First Order, your priorities, who you are. You say you want to be a fair and just ruler, but have you ever considered that you'd be in a better position to do that if you actually know more about the people working for you, not as your pawns but as people?"
He glances at the port.
"I understand that people need to see you as a leader and not a friend, but if you want to inspire a change, maybe you should make an effort to get to know the organization, the individuals who make everything happen, from the top to the bottom. And if you want people to respect you as a ruler, maybe you should try to understand them better, who they are, what they care about. Maybe it's time for you to be more to them than just a man in a mask."
He stiffens.
"All I'm saying..." Rey sounds heavy now. "Is maybe you could accomplish more if you take the time to see people for who they are and not just how they serve you. I mean..." She grunts. "It seems like whenever you look at a person, any person, the only value you see in them is how they can be useful to you. You even..." She sinks. "You even see me that way."
"Rey." He whips around. "That is not true."
She tucks her chin, turning her face down.
"You don't really believe that, do you?"
She doesn't move, shoulders scrunched in her ears. "Do you remember..." She starts quietly. "When we discovered I could hear the kyber crystals?"
He nods but she doesn't see it, still looking down.
"Do you remember what you said?"
He squints, thinking back.
"You said..." She swallows. "You said that I was special. At the time, I thought..." Her shoulders drop. "I don't know. I guess I thought you just meant me. I didn't realize... What you really saw was someone who could help you find kyber. You didn't really see me. You only saw what I could do for you."
"Rey..." He reaches for her shoulder, turning her to face him.
She keeps her head down.
"Rey, look at me."
She doesn't move.
He leans down a little. "Please." He brings an index finger to her chin, turning up.
She doesn't resist, dragging her eyes to his.
There's a twist in his heart when he sees tears in them. He frames her face gently. "Rey, when I said you were special, I meant you. It's true..." He hesitates. "That I see your power. I think about what we can accomplish together, but when I look at you?" He caresses her cheek. "I see you. Just you."
Her throat tightens. She tries to pull away, but he drops a hand to her waist, keeping her close.
"Surely, you must know that." His lips descend to her ear. "Surely, you must feel that." He draws her in close. "Rey, please tell me you know that. Please." He pulls away, just enough to look at her.
She meets his gaze, but she's uncertain.
He burns, tormented by the idea that she thinks he only sees her as some tool he can use and not everything she is, everything he loves about her.
All at once, that beautiful, crushing feeling overwhelms him, and he can't hold back any longer. He takes her lips hungrily, pouring everything he feels into a passionate embrace, the way he grips her warm body, the way he kisses her like she's the only thing that matters.
She doesn't fight him or push back.
But she doesn't give in either.
Part of her wants to. Part of her is content to be in his arms, let her muscles relax, place her palms on his chest.
But there's a part that's guarded, keeping her desire in check.
He unlocks his lips from hers, bringing them to her ear. "Please." He draws her into him. "Tell me you know I see you, just you, for who you are." He pulls back to see her face, and she looks up, trembling.
He waits, bursting with impatience, so close to her he can feel her breath on his skin.
Her lips part and for a split second, he could swear he sees her nod.
But he's not sure.
Because she disappears just as he sees the movement, her eyes, her body, her warmth cruelly snatched away just at the crucial moment.
He drops his hands, feeling the breath knocked out of him. He stares at the space where Rey used to be, the heat dying gradually until he starts to feel numb. He stands silently a minute.
Then he grits his teeth.
The next instant, he roars, casting every chair in the room to the back wall. They crash in a violent storm, landing mangled on the floor. He whips to the port, fuming.
DAMN IT!
Why does the bond do this? Why does it take her away just when they're closest, just when they're most absorbed in one another, killing the moment, the opportunity?
He covers his eyes with a palm.
He is so sick of this. He's sick of missing her, of being at the mercy of the Force and its whims. Who the hell knows what the bond is for? All he knows is that he wants her, just wants her. He wants her with him once and for all.
He slicks his hand over his face.
Suddenly, he straightens, startled by his comm. "The next candidate has arrived, sir," a voice announces.
He growls, snatching the device. "I cancelled the interviews. Get rid of—"
He stops.
"Wait." He drops his hand.
He gazes at the port, the technicians and supply workers scurrying about their business. He watches them, thinking.
Then, he brings the comm to his lips.
"Give me a minute, then send him in."
He attaches the device to his belt, redirecting his focus to his work. He turns, striding to the meeting table. He sweeps up his mask, beginning to lift it but he stops half way.
He lowers the mask slowly, turning it to face him.
Then, he sets it on the table. He walks to the window, clasping his hands behind his back.
A door whir open and footsteps approaching briskly, stopping a few feet behind.
"Sir." A young voice announces.
Kylo stares at the port.
Then, he turns.
Standing before him is not a man but a boy. He can't be a day over twenty. He's lanky, with cropped brown hair and a thin, narrow face, pale but healthy. He looks at Kylo with wide eyes, surprised to see him without his mask.
He's twitchy. The boy can't keep still. But he's not afraid. He's the first candidate to step into this room without trembling.
Kylo observes him a moment.
Then, he turns to the port. "Tell me your name and position," he commands.
"Sylas Bonden, sir. I'm a technician with the 368th division."
"And what's special about you, Sylas?"
"Sir?"
"You beat over a thousand candidates for this interview. How did you do that?"
"Because." The boy sounds matter-of-fact. "I can do anything."
Kylo looks back, raising an eyebrow.
"I can fix anything. I can tweak anything. I can change a blaster into an infra-red sensor. I can take apart a speeder and put it back together as an AC compactor. I can take care of a major wound without a bacta bandage. I remember everything, even stuff I don't want to. I can keep my focus even when there's a thousand voices in my head. Put me anywhere in the First Order, and I'll succeed. I'd even be a great general."
Kylo holds in a scoff, turning around. What a cocky little thing...
He steps forward, observing the technician closely. "And how did you come to join the First Order?"
The boy glances up, then looks straight ahead. "I was recruited out of a fueling depot on Radnor ten months ago, sir." He looks calm but Kylo feels the smallest pang of fear along with a grating feeling, something going up when it should be going down.
He charges to the boy, bearing over him. "You're lying to me."
The young man snaps up, eyes wide. Now he's starting to tremble.
"Why would you do that?" Kylo cocks his head. "Why would you lie to your Supreme Leader?"
"I-I..." Sylas stutters.
Kylo waits, towering over the boy, watching him frantically search for something to say. After a few seconds, he raises a hand, rifling freely through his mind.
Kylo jerks away, shocked. "You." He points at Sylas. "You were caught stealing from a First Order transport. How is it you weren't immediately executed?"
Now the boy's really trembling. "I-I..." He's starting to panic, breath quick and labored.
Kylo lifts a hand, snatching the answer himself. He takes a step back, looking the boy over, fascinated. "You convinced a superior officer to recruit you instead of kill you."
Sylas turns white.
"Do you know what the punishment for that is?" Kylo leans in. "For failing to execute a thief on sight?"
"Don't," Sylas begs. "Please don't. Officer Voors is the one who recommended me. He's invaluable to you, to the First Order, I promise."
"Calm down." Kylo turns, walking to the port. "I'm not executing anyone today." He stands in front of the window, the young technician hyperventilating behind him.
Convincing a First Order officer to recruit a thief at risk to the officer's own life... Now that is a feat of persuasion. "Where are you from?"
"Uh..." The boy manages to vocalize. "I-I'm not sure."
"What do you mean you're not sure?" Kylo turns, knitting his eyebrows.
"I mean..." Sylas gulps. "I just don't know. The first planet I remember being on was Ertegas, but that's not the one I was born on."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I worked on the farms with all the other orphans and corporate records said I was brought there by an off-world smuggler."
"Your father?"
"Maybe." The boy shrugs.
Kylo observes softly, the smallest twinge in his heart. He stands for a moment, then steps to the side, beginning to pace. "And how long were you on Ertegas?" He circles the boy.
"Until I was uh... about twelve."
"And where did you go after that?"
"All over." Sylas shifts nervously but tries to keep still.
"All over where?"
"Outer Rim, mostly. Western Reaches every now and then."
"And what were you doing that had you moving around so much?"
Sylas gulps. "Well... I was kinda... uh... doing... uh... odd jobs and stuff."
Kylo stops, rolling his eyes. He extends a hand to snatch the truth out of the boy's mind. He searches for a few seconds before whipping back like he just touched a flame. "You were part of the Merdos Synicate?"
"Oh shit!" Sylas whips both hands to his ears, starting to hyperventilate. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his palms into his head as though this could keep Kylo from creeping into his mind.
Kylo shakes his head, reaching for the boy's wrist. "Stop." He wrenches it away.
Sylas drops his hands and but looks terrified. "Listen." He looks at Kylo. "It was just for survival, alright!? I was sick of working on the farms and when I ran away, the freighter I was on got randomly tagged by Vos's cronies. They only let me live because I told them I could fix their hyperdrive!" He squeaks. "Then they brought me to Vos and for some reason he liked me and..." He croaks, shrugging helplessly. "But Vos was an asshole. I hated him. I hated those guys. I'm glad you blasted 'em to space. They deserved it!" He gulps, shrinking.
Kylo stares silently for a moment.
Then, he turns, striding to the window. "And what kinds of things did Vos have you do?"
"Just uh..." Sylas struggles to breathe. "Whatever. Stealing, mostly. I was on mission for Vos when Officer Voors caught me."
Kylo purses his lips, reviewing what he's learned about this boy.
He's travelled the Outer Rim.
He's actually worked for one of the Outer Rim gangs.
And he has a knack for talking himself out of getting killed.
"What can you tell me," Kylo starts slowly, "about the Lords of Asphodel?" He waits, cautiously optimistic.
"Um..." Sylas sounds confused. "I mean... They're kinda preachy, but they're not too bad as long as you don't bring up the Spire."
A smile creeps across Kylo's lips. "And why shouldn't one do that?" He turns to face the boy.
"Because they hate it. It's like the casino on Cantonica but it floats, a huge city just floating all over Anthan Prime." He points to the ceiling. "That's why they do what they do. They think the parliament pours too much money into it. Which..." Sylas scrunches his face. "I've been to the planet and well, I'd be pissed off too if I was living in a slum while everybody else was kicking back in a luxury city in the sky. Anyway, they just hate that Spire and if you bring it up, they'll never shut up about it, especially Lord Ixion."
"You've met their leader?" Kylo raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah." Sylas bobs his head. "I fixed his blaster once."
Kylo swells with satisfaction. "Sylas..." He steps to the boy. "I'm going to give you a choice— you can walk out of this room today and go back to your unit."
"You mean you're not kicking me out?" Sylas looks hopeful.
"No."
"That's..." The boy lets out an exhale. "Great. Thank you, sir."
"Or you can be promoted."
"W-what?" Sylas croaks.
"I need a negotiator, Sylas." Kylo steps to the side, circling. "I need someone who knows the Outer Rim rabble— the gangs, the rebel groups. I need someone cunning, someone with a silver tongue. I need someone who can convince a rebel leader like Lord Ixion..." He stops in front of the boy. "To pull his men out of the iridium mines on Anthem Prime and give them to the First Order."
"Can't you just..." Sylas cocks an eye. "Blow them up and take it?"
"I can. Is that what you think I should do?" Kylo leans in. "Blow them all up?"
"Um... no?" The boy squints.
Kylo looks him over, then resumes circling, clasping his hands behind him. "The First Order needs access to those mines. We'll take them by force if necessary, but perhaps it won't be." He walks port. "Depending on you, Sylas. Depending on whether you accept this position, and on your ability to persuade."
"Well..." Sylas regains confidence. "I can tell you right now the Lords will give you whatever you want of you blow up the Spire."
"We're not blowing up the Spire. We need to come to terms, terms that Lords, the Anthan government, and the First Order will accept."
"Won't that be hard?"
"Yes." Kylo turns. "But you can do anything. Right?"
"Right." Sylas fights to sound sure of himself.
"Good. So, what will it be? Where will you go when you leave this room? Will you return to your unit, or will you pack your bags for Anthan Prime?"
Sylas gapes, half in awe, half in shock. After a moment, he looks down, fidgeting. Then, he starts to nod, slowly at first, but soon with conviction. "I'll be packing my bags, sir." He snaps up.
"Then you better get going." Kylo's lips turn slightly. "You leave at 0700 tomorrow. You'll meet me at 0600 for a debriefing with General Kas. Kas will deal with the Anthan government. You will deal with the Lords."
"Ok." Sylas squares his shoulders. "Right. Good." He starts to look pleased with himself. "This is good. Thank you, sir. I'm not going to let you down, sir. I really can do anything. You'll see." He grins.
"Yes," Kylo responds coolly. "I will,"
The boy's face falls flat.
"Go now." Kylo turns to the port.
For once, he doesn't have to repeat himself, the boy immediately walking to the end of the room.
"Wait." Kylo whips around just as Sylas reaches the door.
"Sir?" The boy looks to him, expectant.
Kylo walks forward, stopping by the table. "Why did you stay after the officer caught you stealing? A clever boy like you, a boy who can do anything..." He raises an eyebrow. "You could have snuck away if you were so inclined. So, why did you stay with the First Order?"
Sylas straightens, surprised by the question. He blinks a couple of times, then looks down, thinking. "I just..." He sounds uncertain. "Wanted to get away from Vos and... kind of wanted to stay put for a while, in one place, you know? Long enough for it to feel almost like... home." He shrugs sheepishly. "And it seemed pretty low key here, at least where I was. Simple. Easy. Safe. Comparatively." He grunts.
Suddenly, he snaps up. "Not that I'm not grateful for this opportunity, sir," he adds quickly. "I was starting to get stir crazy, anyways." He shuffles as if to demonstrate the point.
Kylo stares for a moment.
Then, he turns to the port. "You're dismissed," he commands.
A second later, the door whirs open, footsteps receding in the hall.
Kylo stands, unmoving, staring out the window, but he's much too absorbed in his discovery to see anything.
What an improbability, to find someone like this in the ranks of the First Order, not a carefully vetted recruit but a thief who talked his way out of execution, a rogue, an outsider, yet somehow able to blend in, adapt. A contradiction, cocksure and hardened by life but still... Vulnerable.
Kylo purses his lips, gazing at the port below.
The figures race by, weaving around one another, hectic but purposeful. Kylo studies them, noticing individuals here and there, a portly man pushing an empty hoverlift, a short woman entering notes on a datapad, a boy not much older than Sylas running towards a transport, waving his hands.
He observes them quietly.
Then, he turns, striding to the table and sweeping up his mask up. He brings it overhead, clicking into place as he charges for the door.
He exits the room without looking back.