apparare | i found something in the woods somewhere.

i found something in the woods somewhere.

open post.
▬ action
▬ prompts
▬ continuing threads
▬ force shenanigans

( If there is a glimmer of satisfaction directed toward a victory perceived as won, Kylo doesn't let it cross the threshold of himself. He certainly doesn't let it manifest in a physical way, not even by relaxing his shoulders or posture, following after her with a rod of steel sewn and stitched into his spine to keep him at full height. He doesn't reply to her, not trusting himself to avoid saying something scathing, but nods and begins removing layers of armor and fabric to roll up his sleeves as she pulls open the paneling to reveal the sinew and intestines of wiring beneath.

He is left standing in the main hold behind her, eyes skipping from one bit of circuitry to the next, in just the plain black of his flightsuit and boots. When she steps back, he tugs his leather gloves out of his pocket and begins pulling them back on in the interest of not electrocuting himself. Halfway decent mechanic often meant burnt fingertips and sparks and smoke corded through his hair. He hasn't done any of his own rewiring on a ship since before he was assigned to Hux and the Finalizer, but he's rather talented at splicing and is sure he can suss out the details of something less complex. The leather cushions his hands and makes the burns over his knuckles ignite in new discomfort, but he ignores it. )

What's the matter? ( He questions her without immediately turning around, leaning in further with the intention of fussing with one of the breakers as suggested. His fingers press into the framework of the ship and something makes a clicking sound, as if the ship itself is withdrawing from him. Kylo looks back over his shoulder at her and continues where he left off. ) Don't trust me with the life support?

( It's not meant to be taken seriously, at any rate. She's the mechanic, not him, and it's plainly obvious that he can acquiesce that point with minimal protest once he turns back around to bury his head and hands in the task at hand. Like most everything that he does, Kylo at least throws himself into the work with the dedication necessary to take it seriously. It's nice to have something to focus on other than the rolling current of conflict and free fall that he has been in for the last twenty-four hours. )

[ The sound of shifting fabric draws her attention briefly over her shoulder, fixes it on him; for a moment, she stands to watch while he looks over the circuitry, taking stock, trying to decide if she can trust him to accomplish anything with it on his own. His question prompts her to sneer half-heartedly at his back, which she quickly tries to school into something neutral when he looks back at her.

But she accepts that she's hovering, and that they'll have to make do and turns away, striding through the open archway that leads out into the main and forward hold, then over to the life support systems on the starboard side of the Falcon. ] Try not to mess anything up.

[ She scowls as she leaves him, the metal corridors of the Falcon carrying her voice from two empty storage areas away. Truthfully, she wishes he had the mechanical skill for her to see fit trusting him with the rest of the prep work for the Falcon. They had pushed well into daylight and by the time they lifted off the planet, the sun would be sinking again, as it had while fires lit the battle for Corellia that she had felled Kylo in. It seemed a lifetime ago now, and therefore, a lifetime since she had last slept. If they were to escape the First Order's pursuing fleet, there was no telling how long it would be until she got the opportunity again.

But while Chewie tested the engines and instruments, she needed to do the last of the interior systems checks, so she swallowed a yawn, pushed sweat off her forehead, and crouched in front of the paneling to check the screens that reported out the values for the life support systems. The numbers blurred together until she blinked to improve her focus with a heavily drawn breath that put her head back on her shoulders. ]

Hold it together. [ She muttered it quietly, intended for herself only. (Maybe a little of it was intended for the Falcon itself; it was equal parts rust and metal by now. If it didn't hold together—) It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to stay awake. She remembered the working ship she'd found on Jakku, the persistence with which she'd both guarded it through the night and worked on it through the days until she'd allowed herself the luxury of allies in her task. All she needed was the same drive now. She shut one of the life support panels and moved onto the atmospheric controls. ]

( Every breath he takes is as equally full of electricity and fumes as it is oxygen. From outside, the cool, Corellian air filters into the Falcon's corridors on strong gusts of wind and dries the dampness at the back of his neck, cooling his skin. His hands sweat under the thick leather of his gloves, and he spends a moment studying the ruined backs of them where plasma scorched through to singe his skin angry and red, but the fingers are in perfect working condition, and as such he waits until Rey's footsteps have stopped stomping their way down the corridor before shoving his hair out of his face and sticking his nose back in the fuse box, testing the wiring as instructed.

Without the heavy varnish of his outer layers and the high neck of his armor, his sleeves rolled back far enough that his elbows show, the task is not so laborious. Those pieces of his person are still close by, tossed over a cargo canister off to his left, but they don't serve as much of a purpose as they might have had he retrieved his helmet and worn them all together. Kylo knows that it's a ridiculous conception, to hide his face behind a mask and pull on a second skin, but he has grown so much into Han Solo's features that the level of exposure afforded to him as a result of not having those materials leaves him somewhat glad for the relative anonymity that the ship provides. Eventually they will leave, and eventually they will land again, and eventually he will have to show his face in a number of ways if he decides to stick around - he isn't completely sold on that point just yet - and by that time the relative secrecy of Kylo Ren's ancestry might not be so relative or secret anymore. Saying Ben Solo's name might be treason, but that's hardly stopped it from happening all the same.

His thoughts list toward idle the longer he spends "trying not to mess anything up," as Rey had so blithely put it. Kylo works in silence for a while, testing the breakers in the meantime. Her work is admirable - he's not surprised - and the wiring is perfectly routed - of course - but he spends some small amount of time patching up some disintegrating casing on a bundle of cables that he spots when he turns his head and peers down the inner lining of the Falcon's walls. He has to rip it toward him with a sharp tug through the Force when it refuses to come loose from the tangled knot its worked itself into, and pops with a burst of light that isn't unexpected, though it leaves his fingertips hot as he twists the wire around his index finger in order to cut the broken casing away. It's nothing that's going to cause disruptions when they break atmo or if they need to do some quick maneuvering, but it could start a fire if things go south, and Kylo isn't interested in dying of smoke inhalation.

At one point, he hears heavy footsteps on the gangway coming in his direction before they veer off sharply down another path. He hears Chewbacca bark something out toward Rey and takes great pains to ignore it entirely, withdrawing from the paneling with sweat beading along his hairline and up into his scalp.

Kylo nudges her through the Force, reluctant to leave the vicinity when he isn't sure whether or not the Wookie has gone back the long way to the cockpit, and gets a wash of exhaustion that blinks itself away. )

I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that I didn't mess anything up. The wiring is responsive, for the most part. Nothing that's going to wreak havoc on your systems. There's some fluctuation in the lighting in this corridor when other systems are engaged, but you don't need to worry about light when you've got TIE fighters on your tail. ( He thinks fondly of caf, blinking heavily as he works the gloves back off his hands to wipe the sweat away. The wind whistles in through the open door once more and calls goosebumps on his pale arms. ) What else?

Pre-flight check of the hyperdrive and shields still needs to be done. [ The interruption effectively distracts her from her conversation with Chewbacca, and Rey drops her head, raising a palm to push hair out of her face and nods, in a hurry to disengage because the frustration of interacting with Kylo Ren has a way of forcing her to push other distractions aside.

She turns away, hands on her hips, as Chewbacca heads down to search out the source of the alarm light that flashes to indicate that there's someone approaching at the base of the cargo ramp. ]

That'll be flight orders from the General. Test the shields for responsiveness, and I'll run checks of the hyperdrive. [ 'While Chewie says goodbye' goes unsaid, though it's really what Rey attempts to prioritize here. They're closer than she can entirely conceptualize, something to do with the Galactic Civil War if she had to guess, or their shared sentiment for Han Solo. Whatever it is, she doesn't want to interrupt with business when they might be down the ramp parting sentimentally.

Instead, she trudges into the cockpit and drops into the pilot's seat, flipping switches on the instrument panel to test the lights that signal the hyperdrive's engagement. Red flashes to yellow, then blue, and she sits back in the seat, nodding her relief at the lights themselves before redirecting her attention out the front window, through which she sends her own lingering goodbyes to another planet. One on a long line. It seems the First Order has chased them halfway across the galaxy, keeping her from putting down any kind of roots but for those that curl and twine through the rusted steel bones of the Falcon.

Chewie interrupts her despondence before too long, and her sun-freckled face turns up towards him to listen as he reports in warbling howls their mission. Resolutely, she nods. ] We've got our orders. Your mother won't be coming aboard, nor Luke. The General and her council determined there was too great a risk in transporting so many Resistance leaders together under the assumption we could overtake and outrun the First Order.

[ That meant Kylo Ren, Chewie, and Rey were determined to be a cost they could afford to pay, should it go sideways; Luke and Leia were not. Rey doesn't disagree, but it's a fact worth noting. It takes Rey some time before she goes any further with the plan, weighing the truth of their expendability with what she wants to ask of Kylo Ren to ensure their success. ]

Snoke might not have the grip on you that he once did, but is that connection still open?

( Given the reputation that precedes the ship's hyperdrive inconsistencies, Kylo is happy to be the one to test the shields as opposed to the alternative. He's flooded with the General's presence, though he's able to keep it turned down to a slight smattering of energy and hostile warmth on the horizon, the task of testing the shields taking up the bulk of his concentration. Kylo does not answer Rey or search out her presence or mind again in the long moments between the alarm sounding and Organa's trace signature through the Force fading to a slight blip on the radar. He certainly makes no move to leave the belly of the ship in order to say goodbye, nor does he cast his attention further outward in search of Skywalker through the throng and mess of the Resistance camp's populace.

Instead he spends a long time trying to figure out why the starboard side's shield is at a lower level of power than the rest of the ship and ultimately concludes that the energy required to complete the loop of power supplied to that side is tied up in other tasks. He's halfway through the process of trying to divert power back to the disengaged shields when Rey gets the drop on him and her thoughts plummet into his head like a meteoroid. )

I'm crushed. You starboard shield is operating at seventy-five percent, so if you come under fire, maybe show them the other side.

( The dark, flat, automatic sarcasm of his tone is exacerbated by the amount of grease that has worked its way under his fingernails and up to his elbows - and high on his forehead as he shoves his hair out of his face, damp with perspiration - and he makes a sharp, grunting sound as the hydrospanner he is using to close up shop gets jammed and requires additional manipulation through the Force in order to bend to the task. Kylo looks forward to being on board this hunk of metal with Chewbacca about as much as can be expected, but he supposes it's a better alternative than trying to share space with the entire armada of people he has betrayed and tried to kill more than once in the last fifteen years.

He's on his way to questioning her about the status of her own goodbyes - FN-2187 primarily - with no small amount of derision when she cuts him off and drops an active bomb in his lap. Rey isn't physically present to see the scowl that darkens his face, but his presence between them flickers and then shutters altogether, in the interest of keeping his emotions quiet as opposed to broadcasting them like a lighthouse in the dark. Kylo realizes too late that his reaction is telling enough. )

I haven't exactly rung his bell in the interest of seeing who's home. ( Kylo gets the sense that the Supreme Leader would not be pleased were he to let the floodgates down long enough for his master to locate him through the Force, and he has made zero effort to search out Snoke since he was so easily able to find them earlier. Closing the paneling, Kylo gets the sense that he knows what she's going to ask him, and it leaves him with the automatic assumption that he has been right about trading one leash for another the entire time. ) Why?

[ The ache of emptiness washes in to replace the tight frustration she feels emanating from him for an instant through the Force, and Rey sighs, winding down knobs once she’s satisfied that the ship will at least make it to lightspeed. The journey back, and its ability to hold together while the pressure of space buffets against it is another story.

Sitting back in her pilot’s seat, she stares out the window, searching for answers that don’t await her there. No one, she has come to realize, has the answers for themselves, and there certainly isn’t anyone with extra to go around that they might share with her. Chewie approaches from behind her in the cockpit and tilts his head in silent question, to which she shakes her head discouragingly. ]

Get us going. I’ll only be a moment. [ That’s a lie, and they both know it. A dissatisfied growl rumbles out of the back of the wookiee’s throat, but Rey pushes one palm onto the headrest of her seat and navigates past him in the narrow space out of the cockpit to search Kylo down where he assesses the shields.

She won’t be muscling her way into his mind for this. She knows what she’s asking. If he chooses to assent, it will be on his own part, not because she influenced him.

It takes only a few moments for the steady thud of her footsteps to carry her into the doorway behind him, and she leans up against it with her arms crossed, lounging with more casual comfort than she feels. ]

Because you can save the Resistance. [ It’s clear in her disposition that were it her, she would feel a responsibility to do so: there is no debate whether or not it would be something worth doing. She would set herself on fire just to see the Resistance see another day to push its goals out because she believes that the General is the best bet for the galaxy, that Poe and Finn can get the job done. ]

However you choose to do it—you can gloat on your escape, you can slip and let him see what he believes is General Organa on this ship with you—but if you do, you’d ensure that this works. Save Corellia another battle.

[ She’s seen the dark corners of his mind, knows what it feels like to have Snoke inhabit them, to have to push back against it just to self-actualize in making a decision, but that only makes her more assured that this is the right choice, more hopeful that he will see it through. ]

It would be dangerous. You’d be giving him a way in and throwing their full efforts into pursuing us.

[ She won’t pretend it’s not, won’t do him the disservice of pretending she can manipulate him to ignore those facts and feels no need to manipulate him in the first place. But there’s optimism in the appeal her eyes make to him. ]

( He is wiping grease from his hands with a rag that is itself more grease than rag, trying to smear some of the oily blackness away with whatever amorphous blob of tan fabric he can find, when Rey comes around the corner and leans in the doorway. Her posture is all wrong, a plea bargain for nonchalance when tension spits in the air like live wires, and Kylo lets his eyes linger for a moment on the arms that she slings across her midsection, closing her off even while she tries to broach this particular topic with manipulated ease.

What she's asking him to do is a clear reflection of her own state of mind, and he finds himself more than a little annoyed by it. It's not her head that the Supreme Leader has just been forced out of. It's not her head that has served as a cradle for the cold, alien touch of Snoke's long reach all these years. Just because she walked around inside of his mind and had the Supreme Leader take a look at her and find her potential enticing does not give her the credibility required to present this to him with no alternative. Her loyalty to the Resistance and her own opinions of what she would do stamp themselves plainly in what she asks of him now, and Kylo visibly bristles at the suggestion. Not in fear or apprehension or any word that might denote trepidation at what she suggests, but in something that looks a lot like thinly veiled resentment at her perceived ignorance. )

You were so adamant about getting him out. Now you want to give him a surefire way back inside. ( Kylo crowds her, rubbing viciously at a spot of grease on the inside of his wrist until his skin is bright red with futility. He gets the sense that her plan won't work with as much ease as she's expecting it to, and the look that he levels her with says as much, though he feels the need to extrapolate in the interest of getting them on the same page. ) The amount of power that I have, what I've shown you already, you do realize that it's nothing compared to what the Supreme Leader is capable of, don't you?

( It's a rhetorical question, especially as he's well aware that she recognizes the potential risks involved in inviting Snoke back into his mind. Their truce is shaky at best, now, and he's hesitant to call it even that until he is out of immediate and personal physical danger, and he is uncertain of what will happen if he lets down the barriers that he has been maintaining since leaving the bunker and the weak fortress of their conjoined minds, wandering through Yavin IV.

He can weave a lie, though; he's sure of it. He had successfully - as far as he knew - colored his encounter with Rey on Yaga Minor to camouflage the bright splash of her existence in that memory, to water down what had transpired there and hide it from Snoke like hoarding a precious stone or metal. Kylo is confident in his ability to generate some false truth to the reality of what is really happening when the Millennium Falcon breaks atmo and slingshots into the far reaches of the galaxy, but he knows - just as he knows that Snoke's presence in his mind when he and Rey had cleaved the connection earlier in the day - that it will not be as simple as that. There is something, some hidden threat lurking in a shadow that won't be revealed until the light is shined higher. More than his own ability to craft deception in the interest of saving his own skin and the Resistance's, as a consequence, he is sure of Snoke's superiority. )

I'm not afraid of their pursuit. ( And he isn't. If she tries to suss out lies or hidden fears from him in the interest of determining whether or not he's telling the truth, that will stand out bright and constant both in his tone of voice and the underlying reality of his thoughts. ) And I have no interest in remaining on this planet while the Resistance waits to decide what it's going to do with itself should the First Order decide the weather and regrouping efforts are of no consequence. If this is the strategy that you have in mind, if this is the only strategy that General Organa can slap together, then it's the only strategy. ( He holds out the filthy rag for Rey to take, his hand and forearms still streaked up to his elbows. ) But you need to ready yourself for the consequences.

[ In a manner slow with numbness, Rey reaches up to take the rag from Kylo, not because she needs it, but because her physical presence seems useless in the bog of conflict that her mind sifts through, and anything to keep it absently distracted is welcome. She tugs at the corners of the rag, twisting it, working over his reply.

He speaks objectively, and she notices, never fully resigning himself to the task or disagreeing with it, but presenting all of his dissent as objective irrationality that threatens the plan as a whole. Kylo Ren maintains a deliberate emotional distance from the whole thing, which seems absurd to Rey who can't imagine how he could have anything but an emotional reaction to being asked to throw himself back at the feet of the master he'd betrayed, the master that she'd implicitly assured he would be protected from.

He should be angry, she decides. If he weren't being stubbornly obtuse, he would be furious, and then she wonders if it means she should be privately grateful that he is restraining it. Finn had told stories of Kylo Ren's anger, whispered among stormtroopers. If he got as angry as he deserved to get, they might not get the Falcon off the ground after all when the time came. ]

It's not the only strategy, and the General didn't come up with it. I did. [ Though it would be easy, she won't permit him to blame Leia for her own pragmatism. Rey dusts the suggestion breezily off her shoulders, straightening in the door frame as stubborn resolve draws up the length of her spine. ] Regardless of what you do, the Falcon should draw off a sufficient portion of the fleet by rumor and supposition alone. The consequences for me will be the same. [ And she's determinedly not looking forward to outrunning the whole damn First Order fleet to protect a man who tried to kill her, who killed the father figure who passed this ship down to her. ]

But you could ensure it was the whole fleet that pursued us, spare the Resistance the risk of another battle, even one easily won. [ Each battle was another opportunity for her friends to die; she would spare them it, if she could, but Kylo had no such ties. His mother, his uncle, she did not expect they meant anything to him at all. Not after what she had seen him do to his father. ] I know I can shake the fleet off our trail. Can you shake Snoke? [ She searches his expression, softening somewhat from the near-ultimatum she lays out in offering the strategy out to him as a choice that he must ultimately make for himself. Perhaps the first that (she hopes) comes with no persistent and prying telepathic influence attached. ] Do you want to find out?

( Months ago, before Starkiller, before Snoke had seen fit to burden him with the greater purpose of the completion of his training, he might have reacted accordingly. Were they alone on Yaga Minor, were their circumstances now anything but tenuous and hinging on the trip switch of their conjoined efforts, Kylo might allow the perfect retaliatory rage to course through him like a lit firework. He might let it burn him up, but he measures the control he is able to utilize over the current predicament out in doses relative to his personal successes, and only lets the slightest trickle of ire out through a pinhole, calling on control, calling on training.

It's in the interest of keeping the ship together physically as much as it is not calling unnecessary attention to their endeavors on the whole. A full scale meltdown might in turn create a blip on the radar, and while Snoke is sure to be cognizant of where his pupil is even if he cannot reach out to him directly, Kylo has no desire to unleash whatever fresh hell is waiting for him in those hidden shadows, lurking at the edges of his perception. Self-preservation keeps him objectively level, even if internally he needs to distract himself with the menial, laborious tasks required to keep Han Solo's ship in working order.

Rey corrects his assumptions regarding her plan, and Kylo basically rolls his eyes, turning halfway back around to finish sealing up the paneling in the interest of not creating a shower of sparks when the shield inevitably overloads from attack and and covers the floor in dirty electricity. When he turns back around, she has rearranged her face into something more beseeching, softening the strong angles of her jaw and cheekbones, the hollows of her eyes. It is not unlike the expressions she has drawn on him before, staring him down from the other side of an airtight sheet of glass or in the mental construct born of his own recollections of Ilum, Starkiller, and Yavin IV. )

No. ( His answer comes abruptly, instantly, eager to be spoken as soon as she poses the question. It's honest in its brashness and in conjuncture with the expression he fixes her with in turn. Part of him inherently and stubbornly wants to believe in his own ability, in his own prowess, has actual confidence that he is stronger than Snoke - Snoke, who wants him for his power; Snoke, who plucked him from infancy because of the potential that he knew he could cultivate and exploit - but hubris has left him wanting before. ) But it doesn't seem like there's much choice in the matter. ( Kylo crosses his arms over his chest, elbows sticking out at tight angles, the line of his shoulders one unbroken rod of tension. He lowers his chin to pin her in place with a dark, heavy stare. ) One leash for another.

( He doubts the credibility in drawing the First Order out of hiding by goading him into giving chase due to the Resistance leaders' presence coupled with Kylo's own, but he sees the merit in her suggestion all the same. As such, he doesn't offer her much of an opportunity to critique or concede the point of his temporary ownership, and he doesn't doubt her piloting skills to her face. She'd obviously been able to escape the First Order on Jakku with FN-2187 and the droid in tow, and she's flown the Falcon all these months without scuttling it on an asteroid, so it seems a moot point. The fabric of the lie is more imperative than her navigational ability. )

How do you feel about the illusion of captivity? ( A plan begins to weave itself into the tapestry of his thoughts, imagining himself bound and at the mercy of the Resistance, trapped not unlike the way that he was previously. It's a pitiful reach out to bite at the hand that has fed him, and he knows that whatever deception he crafts will have to be carefully constructed so as not to affront his pride in a way that the Supreme Leader would see as suspect, but Kylo is confident in his ability to do that much. ) General Organa and Luke Skywalker escorting a prisoner, a son and nephew, back to a Resistance base. With you. It's a legitimate assumption to make.

( It would prove tempting, but not tempting enough for Snoke to leave his seat in any capacity. He would never stoop so low when he has Hux and Phasma available. )

There's always a choice.

[ She steps in closer as if to try to impose her will on him by the force of her presence, but only serves to dwarf herself in proximity to him, glowering up through dark lashes. It almost feels as though she can't bring herself to let it go because her restlessness demands a fight still, that it hasn't been satiated by the way they have orbited around each other without colliding since emerging from the dark shroud of his mind. Her molars grind. ]

You're not a luggabeast, and I won't be your master.

[ She doesn't want that responsibility, truthfully, but more to the point, she wouldn't be freeing him if she were only trading him into Resistance service. Her own ethics resist the notion, a visceral distaste that comes from being indentured into servitude on Jakku for more than a decade. They'd both had their fair share of leashes for one lifetime.

For that reason, she won't evaluate his suggestion: not yet. Until they get through this disagreement, there is no place further to go. The hiss of engines starts, though the shields remain down, telling her that Chewie is in the cockpit unable to bring them up himself even with his extensive reach. The weightless sensation of take-off jostles their feet slightly, but though Rey sways, she does not falter to catch herself. ]

As soon as we are free of the First Order's fleet, if you so wish it, you're welcome to go wherever in this galaxy you want. I'll send you with one of the escape pods. Resistance fighters don't blindly follow orders: they follow them because they believe it's the right thing to do, and they trust that the General knows the best way to do it.

[ So that helps to sufficiently dig at what she wants out of this: to be trusted in her judgment the way Leia is, to be respected without being feared. She does not want him to follow out of necessity, but out of agreement—but she does want him to follow. ]

That's a nice thought.

( Rey might harbor that illusion for herself, but Kylo Ren holds no such faith in her illustrious and wonderful leaders. He's a criminal. He's murdered countless people and ordered the execution of many, many more. He struck down Han Solo when the smuggler was offering him a way out, a way back, and tortured Poe Dameron and kidnapped Rey. He would never bet money on the Resistance letting him walk away, let alone his own freedom, so while Rey might believe in the validity of what she offers him, Kylo knows that it's a reward with no actual reward attached. His reward will be leaving Corellian airspace alive and free to decide what he wants to do with the key that has been given to him so long as it lies in tandem with what the Resistance expects of him. It's either that or execution, he assumes, regardless of the political sway that General Organa and Luke Skywalker might be able to conjure between them. )

But that's all it is, Rey. A nice thought.

( The truth remains that he also has nowhere else to go. It isn't as if he can steal away in an escape pod and crash on some rock somewhere in an attempt to make an honest living of it. The First Order won't take him back as things stand, and the other Knights are sure to be scouring the galaxy for any trace of his presence in a collective effort to bring their master under the hands of the Supreme Leader. Realization blooms within him at the finality of the situation like a sick flower, and Kylo understands in that moment that it is the cold wash of comprehension that he has been circling since he took his first voluntary steps out of the command shuttle and into the Resistance camp.

This, of all places in the galaxy, is the only real place that he has left. )

I've made a choice. ( He says it as his stomach drops with the inevitability of their take off, and all around him the Millennium Falcon comes to life in a way that no ship has since he was a gangly, awkward-looking child. There is no going back now. ) I would have left long ago if I hadn't.

[ The dismissal, sharp and abrupt as it is, fractures something in her chest—optimism flags and she drops her shoulders, hands hanging loose at her sides. Though she flounders for a reply, a defense, she finds herself crashing uselessly against his shoreline, lapping at unchanging rock faces.

To tell him that she never meant to do this to him, to entrap him in a gilded cage apart from the one he'd spent a lifetime in, seems insulting to voice, but the sentiment carries through in her gaze, the way her eyes soften and her brows knit together. ]

It'll do. You have everything you need to construct it in your memories. [ His initial confinement, the pallid expressions of Luke and Leia as they saw him, the stubborn guard duty she kept outside his airlock.

Chagrined, she drops her gaze and turns away, stepping just outside to move herself out of the way of the doorframe and permit him the freedom of movement around the ship, at least. There is nothing more she can do for him then, and all they can hope is that when he sets his lure, Snoke will bite, and Kylo won't betray them. ]

Do what you have to. I'll keep us in the air.

( He waits until her footsteps have disappeared down the hallway, splaying one palm against the lurching, metallic skeleton of the ship as it hurtles itself through tree and cloud on its way to kiss atmo goodbye and break into the cold, unflinching silence of space. Alone in this portion of the freighter, the cresting reality of the situation is able to press down on him on all sides, and with Rey deposed to deal with the navigational controls, prepping the ship and her own ability to outmaneuver the First Order fleet that waits for them at the other end of their controlled ascent, Kylo allows the growing nausea of what he's done on Corellia to buckle and blindside him. It's been kept at the edges of his perception since he woke on the command shuttle, intensified following the sever in the Force that he had felt when he clipped Snoke sloppily from his own mind, and it leaves his mouth thick with saliva and the taste of bile as he sets his mind to the task of what it is he has to do.

What waits for him on the other side of this endeavor is a region of reality as unexplored as the Unknown Regions, pockets of deep space that crush gravity and turn energy back in on itself. Kylo can't search his own feelings to determine whether or not the decision that he makes is the correct one, but he knows ultimately that it is the only one. Much as the choices he had made to deliver him to the First Order had been choices born of his own desperation and beliefs, he knows now that every move that he makes is a step that will determine the course of his path and how rocky or smooth the terrain is. What waits at the end is a mystery, although the fleeting images that he has seen of Snoke's demise color his perceptions with the conjoined red and blues of plasma swinging in vicious, tandem streaks.

It's impossible to find a spot on the ship that does not remind him in so many ways of its previous owner, though Kylo avoids heading in the direction of the cockpit more than anything. He finds himself in the galley, settling onto a low bench opposite the counter and heating units designed to function as a stove top. The banality of the environment strikes him as ironic, given the task that he is charged with carrying out, but there's little time to reconsider or weight his options in light of their climbing altitude. His fingers curl into fists where his hands bracket the slope of his knees, and Kylo leans forward to brace his forearms on his thighs, waiting for the nausea to abate before grinding his molars together and turning the questing lens of his gaze inward.

Snoke is waiting for him like a cloud of poison gas when the walls come down.

Kylo Ren drops to his knees in the projected auditorium of his own mind, rough stone biting his skin to bloody as he hits the ground and bows his head, showing lines of bone and muscle and thin skin under the tangle of dark hair that peeks from underneath the manipulated image of his helmet. It's an exercise in perfect deception, and as such he constructs brick by brick the walls and shields required to keep Rey from seeing should she choose to look. She can't be here, can't infect the projection, the connection, with the spray of sand and her wash of bright, warm sunshine, applied like a burn. He can only make room for the frostbitten breath of the Supreme Leader as fingers that carry the texture of dry, dead leaves ghost over the back of his neck, turning inward to bite into his skin and apply pressure to caverns of his mind behind his eyes.

Kylo Ren. His master's voice is the cold wash of a dead, salty sea in his ears and his throat, and Kylo knows better than to look up, knows better than to argue. The pressure in his cranium builds until it is unbearable pain, a sharp, white light picking the locks of his mind to reveal the severity of his betrayal. In the waking world, Kylo bites down on his cheek so sharply that blood flows into his mouth and saturates his tongue with copper. The cutlery on the galley table vibrates, whether from the impact of lift off or the sweeping current of his acute focus and rage as it ripples through the Force. Supreme Leader, he responds inside the valley in his mind, sharp stones cutting through the leather of his gloves as he falls to knees and hands underneath the onslaught of Snoke's power. Master.

It's not going to work. He feels it in his bones, up and down the tight muscles of his arms, his attention drawn and quartered down so many different paths. The weight of his betrayal is so heavy between them, the channel thrown open to let Snoke flood into Kylo's consciousness like a battering ram. Even if the connection has been broken, Snoke is still supreme for a reason, and his power is consuming in its totality, so much that Kylo finds himself unable to even look up under the weight of Snoke's punishment, filtered across time and space and star systems bursting with life. His rage is precise, a perfect beam of focused disappointment filled with a cleansing fire that neither Skywalker nor Organa could ever hope to posses. It licks underneath Kylo's ribs and burns him from the inside out as Snoke shoves into his head to see what he sees through the projected, false image that he is shown.

Kylo Ren lies with more conviction than he ever has.

He is bound at the hands and flanked on either side by Rey and Skywalker, the General across from him as she confers with Ematt while staring at the black slash of her son's figure as it sits incapacitated aboard the ship that once belonged to his father. Gone are the streaks of grease that stain his skin and force his hair to stand on end; gone is the plain black flightsuit, swallowed instead by the surcoat and armor that he wears underneath the damaged - torn and dirty - shroud of his cloak, hood drawn to hide the resemblance that he bears to Han Solo; gone, too, is the welcome weight of the saber that hangs presently at his hip, carried instead in Rey's curious hands as she ghosts her thumb over the ignition switch, watching him from the rise of Luke Skywalker's shoulder as they, too, speak quietly about what should be done with him. He projects his captivity with shame and fury, pouring every ounce of himself into it in order to make it all the more likely that he reality he creates is an actuality.

Your failure has been spectacular, boy, but the sacrificial slaughter that you offer may redeem your weaknesses yet, Snoke says to him, and Kylo buckles under the Supreme Leader's discipline. The heating unit explodes. )

[ Rey settles restlessly into her seat beside Chewie, her hands itching with the stress of inaction as she thinks of the battle that will be waged in the hold while she steadies the ship to navigate it through whatever barricade waits for them beyond. The atmosphere burns up around them, barraging the shields, and she keeps an eye on the starboard side sensors while the ship lurches out of Corellia’s gravity.

Two Resurgent-class Star Destroyers waited for them, ready to snipe the Resistance’s fleet with poised turbo lasers. At the sight of the Falcon breaking atmo, TIE fighters pour out of the belly of the ship. A green flash of a turbo laser fire narrowly misses the Falcon by the skin of its nose, a warning flashing on the display screen that monitors the shield resilience. The ship swings around like an attraction at the fair, jostling its passengers while it dodges further fire.

Rey navigates the Falcon like she was born to, ducking quickly behind Gus Talon to seek cover fire, but the pursuing TIE fighters force her to plunge near the moon’s surface, following the grooves and craters that pepper dusty settlements there. Beside her, Chewie lowers the power while they drop flush enough to the moon’s surface to be protected from radar by its magnetic fields, and the great white freighter clings near the surface as it shuffles into deeper corners of space.

Once they’re free of active fire, her mind reaches out and comes up against a smooth wall of glossy black metal rebuffing her from sensing Kylo. He is aboard, she knows, and through the Force she can sense his unease, but the details beyond the ghosts of impressions elude her. Pink knuckles turn pale as she grips the yoke tighter, pushing the nose of the Falcon upward and outward into space. ]

Alright, Chewie. [ She nods, eyes fixed out the front window. ] I’m going to bring us to light speed. Bring down any that follow.

[ On radar, she can see one of the Star Destroyers—a large, angry blip too close for comfort—steer wide and turn to pursue them once, indubitably, stormtroopers report back from their zippy fighters. With a series of adjustments to the instrument panel, Rey listens as the ship begins to tremble and bob, white starlight peeling at the edges of their vision. The Falcon lurches and jumps in the same moment that everything goes to hell.

A series of alarms sound and flash on the console and in the cockpit above the pilot and copilot’s seats. On her feet in an instant, Rey searches out the codes, reading symbols and then barreling, anger burning her heels, out of the cockpit. With a disgruntled howl, Chewie turns his attention more fully to their set course, which carries them far from Corellia to the Outer Rim. ]

What the hell is going on?! [ She wheels through the circular corridor full of secret smuggling compartments in search of Kylo Ren and, with him, answers. The heating system is blown—completely, judging by what she finds when she stalls in front of its control panel. Even with the warmth provided by the Quadex core running the hyperdrive wouldn’t keep them from freezing to death in the depths of space if they didn’t get it back online in some capacity. No life support systems in the world could keep oxygen breathable at subzero temperatures.

Immediately, Rey pulls the faceplate off the control panel and sets to work evaluating the extent of the damage, which looks irreparable due to the apparent explosion that set off within, leaving charred tubing, melted wires, and jagged holes in the metal casing. Panic and anger color her presence as she forces it out again at the slick metal wall that blocks her from Kylo Ren’s mind, and she grits her teeth as she tries this time to bulldoze straight through it. ]

( He is on the floor, hands and knees pressing hard into the metal grating that hides cabling, power couplings, and the hidden compartments that, he knows, Han Solo used to smuggle spice in his days before becoming a general in the Rebel army. Kylo's fingers spasm around whatever he can find to hold onto, halfway to catatonic with pain that bursts like blown star systems behind his eyelids. His head is on fire, skin hypothermic, every beat of his heart pumping metallic blood through his circulatory system as he struggles to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide and not throw up at the same time. Blood floods his mouth where he grinds his teeth down into the meat of his cheek in an effort not to cry out, to ground himself in the vertigo-inducing sensation of Rey's piloting skills as she steers them away from Corellia.

Kylo lets Snoke feel the shaking of the ship around him, the floor vibrating under the length of his palm as something takes a hit. In his mind, General Organa barks orders for updates, and Skywalker, despite his innate desire to be behind the wheel of the Falcon's controls, remains as a guard to flank his nephew in the event that he tries to utilize any power in order to escape. Rey is called away, to the cockpit for assistance, and he imagines that he can feel her footsteps pounding away down the hall enough that the echo of them resounds perfectly in the dome of his head. Snoke stands in his mind's eye, and the helmet in Kylo's vision falls away so that long, spindly fingers can thread through his hair like wisps of smoke, like clouds of vapor made corporeal, trailing motor oil down the back of his neck in rivulets.

He only realizes that it's sweat that's congealing under the strain of the illusion when Rey actually does bark at him, breaking through the haze of heat and bringing him away from the summit of the experience with a barrage of her own presence against the sheer cliff wall that he has constructed in an effort to keep her out of this. Teeth gnash, lined with bright red blood, and he makes a noise not unlike something savage and wild, a sharp grunt that might be a shout were his teeth not pressed so tightly together. Stay out, he hits back, shoving at her with a burst of strength that would upend her and send her sprawling back the way she had come were it made physical. It's a peer back at her through a crack in the door, the wild white of his eye visible before he slams it shut in her face and looks up at the beckoning hand of the Supreme Leader, extended toward him as if in conciliatory acceptance.

The Outer Rim, Kylo says simply, eyes tracing the sunken, misshapen face that he has looked to time and time again for understanding and guidance, for wisdom and respect. Twin eyes, black as Ilum's glacial plains, curve in the darkness toward him. In the projection of his projection, the bulky width of his frame straightens and stares ahead at the general, meeting the softness of wide brown eyes. Snoke says to him, I will not abandon you as they have, boy.

And then he's gone. The pressure on Kylo's head and neck swells to a paralyzing crescendo before it abates and washes away like the faltering of the tide, and he is left to blink his way back to full consciousness like coming out of a stupor. He breathes loudly, each inhale and exhale punctuated with a half-choked scratch of sound that rolls outward from his larynx like it's being ripped out of him. Alarms blare in his ears, the floor swimming into focus where his face has nearly pressed into it. Something is burning, melting, and when he swallows his mouth is full of saliva and blood. He fights with the urge to vomit, blinking black spots out of his eyes, curls his hand into a fist and strikes viciously at the floor before pushing himself back onto his hands and knees. The wall separating himself from Snoke slides back into place, allowing Rey to once again tumble face-first into his mind as he frees up her end of the connection. )

The Knights are coming.

[ This time, the head-splitting pain never comes, and she staggers blindly into his mind, briefly losing physical sensation as she charges so assuredly into the telepathic link forged by their Force bond. A moment later, she detaches, hearing the heavy weight of dread in his voice fill her to the brim, though she has no personal concept of what to anticipate of the Knights of Ren.

In the wake of the dread comes the immediate and obtuse complaint that they don't have time for the Knights of Ren to come beating down their door right now. It's an indignant huff, whispered in her mind as she stares at the backfire caused in the heating unit. There's nothing she can do about the heating immediately, and they have time before the effects really start to sink in. The shields, the pressure in the ship afforded by the atmospheric controls, and the circulating heat of the hyperdrive should keep the ship at tolerable conditions until the mess of melted wires and metal have cooled enough to touch.

She shakes her hands out, flicking molten rubber wire casings off the edge of her reddened thumbs, and draws herself into the closet he'd steadied himself in for the task—right where she'd left him, but for the heap that he'd puddled into on the floor. Rey crouches, but not to soothe him. The hand claps quickly onto his shoulder, and though reassuring in its promise of teamwork, still grabs a fistful of his surcoat to drag him up by it. ]

Hey. [ She leans in to try to catch his gaze, steady him, sift through the immense and apparent strain that the task had put him under. As much as she wants to alleviate whatever trauma was reopened by the mission she had offered to him, they simply have too much to prepare for.

His breath roars over the sound of the engines, a desperate gasped wheeze that clouds her mind with guilt, and she can't tell if it's the image of Snoke or the knowledge of what the Supreme Leader has sent after them that sends him into this panic. Her nerves prickle at the sight of him so acutely unhinged, a picture she's only been on the other end of once before, one she doesn't want to relive. ] Come on. Don't make me do this alone.

[ The statement, clear and reverberating in the metal coffin they hurtle through space in, exposes a raw nerve that she had hoped not to offer to him but can't avoid now. He is her only chance not to be alone in this galaxy. Jakku was a very literal, physical isolation, but since then she's felt the blind and wayward confusion of stumbling through her understanding of the Force and training with it, watched Luke keep secrets from her, fought off the influence of the Dark Side in a way that she had hoped Finn could understand but was so different from his own experiences. Kylo's mere presence offers her an illusion of solidarity, even if it is unwilling on his part at best.

It's not that she'll be alone—Chewie would still be on board, after all—but that she would be without him and everything his presence at her side entails. The image he'd painted for her on Yaga Minor still burns in the corners of her mind, begging to be realized. ]

Not now. ( His voice tumbles out of his mouth like a pile of rocks rolling down the side of a hill, unbidden and uncalled for. ) Eventually. Soon.

( Kylo isn't sure whether or not he's responding to something that Rey has actually said, a perceived inquiry bordering on a complaint that remains unvoiced, or a follow-up to the aside he had offered upon emerging from the bog he had been wandering in. What he means is that the Knights are not coming now, but they will. Eventually. They'll scour the Outer Rim and scorch the earth in their attempt to find him, find them, Rey included. The only benefit to knowing ahead of time that they'll be looking is that he will be able to feel them coming a long way off, casting wide nets to drag the sea of space in an effort to find their master.

Her hand claps on his shoulder as she hauls him to his feet with strength that never fails to both impress and surprise him, and Kylo lashes out automatically, catching the bones of her wrist in the tight circle of his hand, unable to stop himself from trying to ward her off physically. He squeezes and pins her in place with wild eyes, and he takes a couple steadying breaths before dropping her arm in favor of wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Leather smears with damp blood and spit, and be begins to come down from the manic high of having the Supreme Leader claw at the contents of his mind like a child scooping porridge from a bowl.

Rey's words offer little comfort in the cold world of space, but he accepts them for what they are nonetheless and finds that they resonate with him in a way that he has felt before, what feels like countless times now that he has come to know and understand her so much better than he had when he'd initially encountered her. Kylo can read between the lines and intuit her actual meaning despite the state of the ship around them, the hissing of the heating unit that had burst as a result of his poorly maintained control and focus, and he nods in response, the after-image of an island, unique to her thoughts, her perceptions, finding a niche within his own thoughts and bringing with it a poor substitute for comfort. It's an action that ignites the pounding of a migraine deep in the dome of his skull, but he doesn't let it slow him down. )

Step back. ( He warns her in time for him to lurch out of the cramped space he has crawled into to angle his face over the galley sink and spit into the drain. He doesn't waste water on the taste in his mouth but takes a few steadying breaths with metal bending under his palms before righting himself enough to turn back around and face her. There's no schooling his face into impassivity now, so he doesn't try. ) Did it work?

[ When he grabs her, she's not sure which version of Kylo Ren she gazes up at, the hard edge of his gaze echoing back a void that he'd stared into too long, one she recognizes from the landscape of his mind as the cold and barren wasteland occupied by Leader Snoke. But she keeps her jaw tight, her chin high, and she doesn't relent to his grip.

Eventually, he releases it, and relief carries the breath out of her lungs just as quickly as her eyes study and process the blood she sees smear on his leather gloves. Powerful indeed. It would seem the Supreme Leader is not to be underestimated; if his hold on Kylo Ren can cause such minor physical injuries, there is no telling that it can't draw out something more severe through the pain he inflicts mentally.

She does not question Kylo on what he saw or heard, but accepts his report with a kind of implicit trust that he has not earned: rather, she offers it to him to spare his dignity and leave him to bury his reinvigorated traumas. Not trust, then, but respect. As a result, she takes a series of wary steps back, offering him breathing room. ]

At least half the ships they sent have begun to pursue us, but I don't know that we'll make it to the Outer Rim without making repairs to the systems they've damaged. [ She shakes her head, then fixes her attention with apparent distraction on the melted heating unit, the furrow of her brow debating its role in triggering a meltdown across the rest of the system. She opted not to make accusations—it wouldn't make a difference, anyway. It still needed to be repaired. So instead, she looked back to Kylo and offered her suggestion. ]

We should be able to lose them around Kessel, but we won't be able to make it back to the Hapes cluster for a rendezvous with the rest of the fleet without a pit stop to repair the systems that took damage. [ Which makes the whole lure them to the Outer Rim and shake them there plan something of a bust, unless they wanted to be stranded and frozen in a nonfunctional antique. She launches quickly into a contingency, revealing a certain reverence she offers for Organa herself in the apparent imitation. ]

I think our best bet is to adjust course for the Roche asteroids, lose them in the rubble, then slingshot around for Hapes to regroup with the General and Master Luke once they've made it off the surface of Corellia. Their escape should thin the herd of the First Order's fleets to something properly manageable, and as long as we're within the Hapes Cluster, we should be safe from their interference.

( Kylo's eyes follow Rey's to the blown heating unit, which still belches dark clouds of smoke that stinks of melted rubber and overheated metal. It's a distinct, sharp stench that flood his nostrils and clogs the back of his throat. He should try and fix it, he realizes, but he's at the disadvantage of not really knowing how. The attention that Rey spares the destroyed component makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at the accusation she doesn't level at him, but the guilt inherent in knowing complicity that he was responsible for something that may have set them back in their trajectory makes him uneasy: a child reacting with anger at having been caught with his hand in a jar of sweets while the jar is also in pieces on the floor and his hand is also bloodied from the broken glass.

The charge never comes, though, and he's left tense and waiting against with one hand gripping the counter hard enough to turn his knuckles bone white and practically warp metal. He doesn't relax until Rey lays out the finer details of her plan and even then it's only by various degrees, letting go of the counter once his vision stops prickling at the sides and he's swallowed most of the blood that fills his mouth. When he speaks, there's a sharp prick of pain where he's bitten through his cheek, but Kylo knows exactly how to draw strength from pain and doesn't see it as a bother. )

As long as you think that the ship can hold together long enough to get to Roche and get through Roche, it's a plan with merit. ( Kylo pushes himself to his full height, casting a sideways glance over at the heating unit, which at least is no longer on fire. ) The real problem comes after, when Snoke realizes that we've changed course and not gone to the Outer Rim territories and systems as he's been led to believe. The Hapes Cluster might be able to shield you from First Order chatter and scouting, but it isn't going to do much to dissuade a Knight.

( That, still, is something that they can discuss when it's upon them, hurtling toward them like a comet rather than burning threateningly like a far off star. Ultimately, though, it comes down to one truth between them: )

You're the pilot of the this bucket. It's your call.

( It's likely the most control he ever has or ever will cede to her, but that doesn't make it any less accurate. He's an adequate pilot in his own right, but her skills are impressive enough that he can put the responsibility of their escape in her hands and not feel slighted by it. It's also as close to a compliment as he's likely to get as well. )

It'll hold together.

[ Rey growls the words out instinctively, casting a look up and around at the walls of the Falcon as if it could hear Kylo slinging insults at it. He can be thankful that she stops far short of reaching out to pet it with tender reassurance, at least, and turns her attention back to him instead of extending her moment of defense for the ship. ]

You think it's dangerous to reconvene with the Resistance with the Knights still pursuing us. [ Rey makes the evaluation carefully, sizing him up as she does, like she's not sure whether to believe him or attribute it to some personal distaste for the group. Unfortunately, his arguments carried solid reasoning in them, and she couldn't help finding herself in agreement that it was dangerous and irresponsible to lead the Knights straight to wherever the Resistance leaders moved themselves.

Whatever they decided, it needed to happen soon. Without adjusting the trajectory, they'd run out of options in the heart of Kessel space with no choice but to land on the barren, spice-laden asteroid with no hope for reinforcements.

She cycled through the nearby planets she'd seen on the astrogation chart in her mind—Nar Shaddaa would have the supplies they needed, but attract the wrong kind of attention; she'd heard stories of it from the earnest hunters who visited Jakku hoping for treasure of some kind that fell from the sky during the Galactic Civil War. Tund, Gand, and Kubindi were all marked as uninhabitable to humans (for reasons she certainly didn't want to test). Rey folded her arms over her chest while she worked the problem, finally bringing herself to think aloud for Kylo's benefit. ]

Mon Cala's too far. Kegan doesn't have a spaceport for us to find parts at. [ She rattles the planets off one by one, cutting down each option with a swift and brutal chop until finally, exasperatedly, she drops her hands. ] We don't have a choice. I can get us through Roche, but we have to reconvene with the fleet for as long as it takes to complete repairs. A few days, maybe more. Then we can pack off to the Outer Rim as we please to draw them off the Resistance.

[ She doesn't look happy about it, eyes already hardened by the prospect of whittling days away on another planet as desolate as Jakku, waiting to be hunted like animals. Given her rathers, Rey would hunt the First Order and the Knights of Ren down personally and meet them where they live, but she knows it's not a workable plan, and Leia would skewer her had she any idea the young Jedi was even thinking it. But given the choice, she'd rather stay the bait and use that to protect her friends from a battle they couldn't possibly win. The Force seemed to command that the Jedi fought a second front of this endless war, and Rey could only move through its streams to where it guided. ]

You know the First Order better than anyone: worst case, how long before the Knights find us?

( Kylo lets her talk it out, acting as a sounding board more than anything else, although he gives minor adjustments in expression or small indications at the corner of his mouth to either agree or disagree with her. Were it him, he would set them down on Nar Shaddaa and be done with it, but she's right in assuming that landing there would garner them the sort of attention that they aren't looking for. It's difficult for him to think like a Resistance operative when he has spent so long moving unperturbed and uninterrupted through the galaxy, unafraid and unaffected by the sorts of problems and cautions that they run into now. Part of him wants to risk their presence on Nar Shaddaa regardless of the risk involved, knowing that between the two of them, he and Rey could cover their tracks through the Force quite nicely, with relative ease, but it's not a tactic that she's likely to be fond of, and if he's being honest with himself, Kylo doesn't know that he has the strength left in him right now to wipe their existence from memory were they to regroup there. )

Rejoining with the fleet could be beneficial. ( He pushes away from where he's been leaning and paces a slow, steady path between the galley unit and just a couple of feet from where Rey has taken up her position. ) They might assume a change of hands has taken place and be unsure which ship to focus the bulk of their attention on. It won't be an unexpected move, necessarily, but navigating through Roche will buy you enough time to stop them from breathing down the back of your neck, long enough for the First Order to begin looking in the territories I provided the Supreme Leader with. I think it's dangerous to reconvene with the Resistance with Knights pursuing you, yes, but the Knights aren't going to pursue with the sort of immediacy that the First Order is. It doesn't work like that.

( Which isn't an answer to her question, and Kylo knows that, but he needs a moment to talk it through himself in order to arrive at the other end of the spectrum, perceiving the idea of his Knights attacking a problem from an end opposite his, without his direction, without his command, without his control. )

Worst case? One of them finds us in the Roche asteroids and tails us to the Hapes Cluster, brings the entire First Order back down on the Resistance, unaware and unprepared, but that would mean leaving immediately, and Snoke is not going to scramble them so abruptly. Knights - ( He has to forcibly stop himself from saying my Knights, though the desire to do so is there, right at the tip of his tongue as it draws away from his teeth to pronounce the syllable necessary to complete the thought. Every word that follows feels like an acute betrayal of not only a collective that he spent the last decade believing in but also of a tight unit of some of the most gifted warriors - Force users or otherwise - that he has ever known. It's a betrayal they will see without question, once the smoke clears and the concussive glare of the blast wears off, and it's that bloodlust and thirst that they should be most concerned with. The First Order does not suffer traitors; the Knights of Ren dare not even breathe the word into existence. ) - operate independently of the First Order. When our efforts are coordinated, then we collaborate, but they are a unit distinctly different from what the First Order is and represents. They don't defer to any chain of command within the Order. They defer to me. And in my absence, they'll defer to Snoke directly as opposed to carrying out his orders through a channel and go to him for instruction when they're beckoned. ( Kylo levels a look at her, making sure that she's paying attention to this part. ) It's imperative that you understand the kind of people that you're going up against.

( The odds had been stacked against him, the first time, and partially even the second time, during their battle on Corellia. He had been injured on Starkiller Base, and he hadn't wanted to kill her in either skirmish, attacking with the controlled ferocity intended only to subdue. Rey knows the story, however she wants to paint it, but the reality is that had he been interested in killing her, had he been operating at full capacity, Kylo could have overpowered her without a second thought. The warm tendrils of darkness, offering to wrap her in a soft, powerful embrace, that she encounters every time she turns her head in the wrong direction is nothing compared to the tangle of Dark power that surrounds some of the Knights of Ren. Kylo glances at the lightsaber that is strapped to Rey's side, and he is immediately proud of his decision - and hers - to go back into the woods to retrieve it. )

I would keep the time that it takes to repair your ship to a minimum once you rendezvous with the Resistance on the other side of Roche. It won't be an immediate hunt for the Falcon's bumper, but it will come quickly once Snoke realizes that the Outer Rims are not actually our intended target. And he and the Knights won't exactly be pleased.

[ The blunt edge of his assessment shocks her, fear crawling beneath her skin in a way that sends her turning away from him to busy herself at the smoking heating unit. At the very least, it would help her to work with her hands while she mulled it over: the mechanics of the ship offered her a comfort and safe haven where things made sense, but better still, it offered her the opportunity to mask her expressions from Kylo as he spoke.

It unnerves her, the way he lumps himself with the First Order and rebuffs her plans and the Resistance's to the impersonal you, as if he claimed no part in them, but she tried to assuage herself that it was habit, not confession, and thus she doesn't allow it to hinder the way his relative assurance that they're unlikely to arrive quite so quickly prompts her to shut her eyes and breathe a single moment's relief, though she doesn't dwell in it: after all, it's only supposition. All of it.

She pries the melted panel off the front of the unit and lets it clatter to the floor in a pile of charred steel, backing away from the cloud of smoke that effuses from the ashen interior of the unit. Without parts, she won't be able to repair even this, but taking stock will do for the time being.

Already, she shaves time off with a series of mental tallies. Everything about their plan relies on cooperation from the Hapans, but she can't afford to presume that Leia fails in diplomacy when she lands. At the very least, they should receive safe haven. Maybe even mechanical assistance, which would speed things along. But it wasn't a guarantee either, any more than evading the Knights in Roche would be. Even with her and Chewie working around the clock, there was no telling how extensive the damage through the heating systems were: it looked as if the explosion had kicked back through the circuitry and fried the whole system by overloading it with the energy created. ]

Yes, well, I think we'd be in worse shape if any of the people you just listed were pleased. [ It would mean they were already captured, and nothing that followed could bode well for either Force-user. Rey scrubbed a hand over her mouth, looked away from the heating unit and back at him. She catches his eyes on the lightsaber at her belt, and absently, she reaches for it, suddenly aware of its weight. At least that's one thing working in their favor. ]

I'll do as much diagnostic work as I can before we have to drop out of hyperspace near Roche. That should shave maybe a day off our time on Hapes, if we're lucky, and get us back in the air hopefully before Snoke realizes we haven't lost his strills in the Outer Rim.

[ The whole plan wobbles in the air between them like a house of cards, rattled by their very breath, by the smoke of the disabled heating unit. One wrong move, one sharp breath, and the whole thing would come clattering down around them. She straightens her spine and squares her shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle, bracing herself against the coming storm, then breezes past him into the ship's main corridor. ]

But you're right: I should understand the kind of people we're going up against. While I'm working, you can brief me on them.

( Kylo has to concede the point that she makes about the Knights, the Order, and Snoke being in a position of far greater superiority and delight were they happy in any capacity, and he also has to concede that he has utterly bunked the heating system. And by the looks of things, not just in the galley's stovetop unit. Even from where he comes to stand crowded around the doorway, he can see that he has done real damage. His arms cross and he takes a sideways step toward where Rey has peeled the warped metal door that encloses the unit's innards. It doesn't look good, even from the distance that he maintains in the interest of not squatting down to take a closer look or crowding her too completely, operating in a peripheral sense until Rey straightens back up and catches his eye, slipping her hand over the reflective surface of the hilt at her hip. Kylo mirrors the gesture half on instinct and half just to feel the weight of it in his palm. The metal of the hilt is warm even through the leather shield of his gloves, and the exhaust ports in particular feel oddly hot, as if they had been recently ignited.

Skywalker, he thinks, and resolutely does not imagine his uncle examining his blade with the kind of abject despair and resignation contingent upon the crushing totality of guilt. Instead, he nods once, shallowly, to the plan that Rey is laying out, getting the impression that she's talking more for her own benefit than for his understanding or in search of his opinion. He's given it already, and from the resolution in her tone, Kylo gets the sense that there's going to be little deviation from their course from here on out. He doesn't look forward to running to ground on Hapes, and plans to stick to the ship as much as he's able both in the interest of not drawing attention to his person as First Order fugitive - he's sure of that, regardless of what he had done to deceptively earn back some of Snoke's scuttled faith in Kylo Ren's loyalty, he is still a traitor in ways that many people will never be able to understand - but it's their only option, it seems, and he'll see it through.

Rey skips around him, and his hand uncurls from the relaxed grip on his lightsaber just in time to grab the door frame and follow her out into the main hall as she chatters at him over her shoulder. Kylo has to take several long strides to bring himself up to pace with her, and experiences no small amount of indignation as a result. His knees hurt, like they've been pressed flush to stone for hours, for days, an immense weight on his back driving the distribution of pressure to the task of his kneecaps alone, but he gives only the slightest indication of discomfort as a manifestation rippling through the Force. It's nondescript and fleeting, and it's quickly overwhelmed by the bubble of dark amusement that swells and bursts at her inquiry, curling cool fingers through his perception of the Force, a tree comprised of seven roots, sturdy trunk, black bark, at the center. He doesn't laugh or even smile, just follows her lead with heavy steps as he talks above her head. )

There are eight of us, myself included. ( It's as simple of a beginning as any. There are eight of them now, but the ranks have thinned and thickened with the culling and strengthening of their number over time. When he assumed his position at the head of their faction, there were three, including himself: all leftover Jedi hopefuls from the ruins of his uncle's collection of potentials, Force-sensitive and scared and scared of him in the wake of what he had done, rallying to his cause in an effort to prove themselves but to also stay alive. That had been enough, then, their survival instincts and desire for self-preservation above all else carving out an adequate gully in the Dark Side. One had fallen under Kylo's hand at Snoke's behest, leaving only one connection within his ranks to the boy he had once been. A Mandalorian warrior named Ji, his second in command and one of the three remaining Knights with any degree of Force sensitivity. ) Two of the others are Force sensitive, though they haven't been trained, strictly speaking. ( Snoke had been adamant in taking on one apprentice and one apprentice only, and Kylo Ren had been it. ) The rest are formidable warriors with various areas of specialization. They have all been trained in lightsaber combat, similar to Stormtroopers. However, unlike Stormtroopers, their propensity for creativity and thirst for violence remains unchecked by the hierarchical standards of obedience that General Hux and Captain Phasma are so eager to promote.

( It's halfway through the debriefing that she's asked for that he realizes putting the Knights' abilities into verbal representation doesn't do them justice. Despite the splitting headache that's beginning to wreak havoc behind his eyes, Kylo reaches out and grabs her elbow before they're able to get too much further into whatever task she's going to throw herself into. He doesn't wait for her permission but shoves his way into her thoughts like jamming his foot between a door and its frame, shouldering it wide open and letting a flood of images and sensations pour from his memories into her thoughts with all the power of a hurricane.

Ji is nearly as tall as he is and just as fast, and they duel to first blood - hers - during a reconnaissance trip to Moraband. She is the only other Knight to carry a saber, and it pulses green - a relic from her time as one of Skywalker's hopefuls - before she extinguishes it and trades it for the heavy blaster strapped over her back, turns to line up a target in the sights and lands a hit with deadly accuracy, an advancing party's face blown to black, charred ashy muscle and bone under the steadiness of her hands. The mask that she wears is an aberration of Mandalorian design, a twisted representation of her homeworld better suited to the house that she now serves. More images and impressions follow: the taste of blood, human and otherwise, flooding their mouths and rusting the air; screaming, crying, the vague stench of burning flesh and acrid smoke totally unlike the concoction that chokes the galley on the Falcon; a pop of electricity, not unlike the charge of a Stormtrooper's riot baton, cracking the air like with a sharp pop; an advancing figure, a dilapidated, beat up helmet, concussion grenades and primitive looking blasters arranged over the breastplate that covers his chest; the swing of a wide, heavy broadsword, the steel cut of the edge wet with black blood, a slick hood throwing the slash of the mouth underneath into shadow, red eyes glowing dark from underneath as they search for and pin.

She'll recognize them all, their shapes and figures a familiar outline against a dark blue, nearly black, sky streaked with sheets of rain and forked with lightning. Kylo, of course, has no way of knowing that she's glimpsed any of them before in a vision, though the road map that he affords her now is not the same thing she had seen upon touching Luke Skywalker's lightsaber. This isn't a vision; it's a warning. He lets go of her arm, dropping it as if it's burned him and steps back toward the wall, sweating again. His voice is strained and his throat dry. )

Ask questions, if you have them.

[ Terror rocks her, for even if the image transferred isn't identical, it is close enough for her to place the dark helmets and lean forms of the Knights of Ren to that vision. She wrenches her elbow free from Kylo to end it, staggering back into the arched doorway that separates the main hold from the forward hold with a clang that echoes through the ship.

A shake of her head tries to kill the connection, but she can remember stumbling to the ground, rain pounding down on them all, and a red lightsaber piercing through someone she couldn't recognize. From behind the fallen warrior, Kylo Ren advanced, footfalls splashing water up with each heavy thud of his boots. Behind him, a small army of dark-clothed warriors who look just as menacing, Ji among them. A sharp gasp draws her back to herself, eyes blinking wide, trying to make sense of what the inclusion of Kylo's Knights in her vision could have meant. That long ago, could the Force have felt this moment weaving itself into the universe's fabric? Was it a warning?

Frazzled by the emotional intensity of being brought back to that moment in the basement of Maz Kanata's castle, Rey takes a moment to collect herself, turning away from him and pushing off the wall to guide herself through the forward hold to the freight loading room and the number two hold after that, where the life support systems waited. She traced circuitry back to make sure that the heat hadn't fried anything there either, but she can't get her fingers to remain still on the panel. Quietly cursing them, she glances up at the ceiling, jaw clenched, and drops her hands, resolving herself to questions before she sets about testing for what needs repairs. ]

I've seen them before. [ Around the words, her breath comes out ragged and heavy. It was a dark knight, the rain still crashes down inside her head. She can remember Luke's metal hand reaching for Artoo. And she can remember the frozen forests of Starkiller Base. That, she knew now, was the Force showing her path to her. In the back of her mind, a voice echoes from that moment: these are your first steps. But she still hadn't figured out where those steps were leading her. ] The Force showed them to me. When we meet, it'll be raining. And dark.

[ Her eyes close, and this time, she deliberately tries to remember, but though her fingertips search her memories for the seam in the vision, something to tell her when it changed from the fiery oranges that cast on Artoo to the dark, heavy rain of the massacre that Kylo Ren and his Knights stood over, she can't find it. It's as if it were a blurry daydream.

Opening her eyes, they fix with a controlled accusation on Kylo. He was with them, in her vision; if it were an image of the future in any sense, it would mean he had betrayed them again. Even though every atom of her body resisted the possibility, her mind refused to divorce it entirely from her perception of what may have not yet come to pass. She couldn't ignore a warning of the Force. ]

Can we fight them as we are now?

( Kylo can feel the fear that rolls off of her in waves, flooding the corridor that they stand in and feeding into him in a way that he hasn't felt in a very long time, especially not from her. It's an intoxicating draw, to know that he has cultivated and inspired fear in some abstract way, and it's a struggle not to let it overwhelm him and rip a hole in him wide open so that it can crawl inside. The desire increases tenfold once he realizes that the terror she's experiencing isn't solely a result of what he's shown her but of something remembered, some nightmare or twisted daydream that feels familiar but alien all at once. He gets flashes of it in the connection that she has yet to terminate: the smell of rainwater washing topsoil away to reveal thick mud underneath, the splash of deep puddles up to the ankles, and the buzzing crack of his lightsaber in the darkness, a glare off the warped durasteel of his helmet as he turned his head to look right at -

Kylo flexes his hands and the leather of his gloves scratches over the untreated lightsaber burns and it grounds him somewhat, moving in tandem with the sharp sound of Rey's gasp. He doesn't move toward her but keeps his distance with the same long, lean look that had colored his expression when the Resistance had had him caged in the command shuttle. A predator hunted and defensive, ready to strike should the blow come. But Rey doesn't lash out at him, through the Force or otherwise, though she might technically have every reason to do so. Rather, she turns on her heel and enters the hold without saying a word to him, giving Kylo little choice other than to follow her, waiting for her to pepper him with questions that don't immediately manifest. What he is treated to is the trembling of her hands as she tries to peel back layers of the ship in order to continue chipping away at small problems with larger problems of their own. His own hands don't shake, but they do throb.

An inquiry hangs on his tongue, which she answers as if perceiving its existence before he can even give voice to it, although that answer only inspires further questions in its own right, similar to the way the accusation inherent in the gaze she levels at him inspires his own hackles to raise and his neck to prickle. Her mistrust only serves as a necessary reminder that while they might be on the same side for the moment, their status as allies is questionable and unnatural, and as such he takes a moment to consider whether or not he should answer in any true capacity but ultimately decides that if the day ever comes in which they don't mistrust one another at least a little, they will have larger issues to contend with. )

Prepared to practically scuttle ourselves on the Roche asteroids and barely keeping our eyes open? I'd say probably not, and that would be terribly optimistic of me. ( Kylo crosses the secondary hold from where he has remained by the entrance and crouches down next to her. It's hell on his knees, but he's able to work the panel off where she couldn't, wrenching it free with a sad, metallic whine. His voice is low and hesitant between them, as if reluctant to admit anything. ) Together, I think that we stand a chance against them. But I wouldn't expect them to attack as a unit. In groups of two at the most, maybe. My second-in-command is more likely to pursue on her own.

( As a general rule, Ji dislikes almost all of the other Knights, including Kylo on various occasions, and prefers to work on her own. His tone, however, gives no indication that her choice to operate solo will make her any less of a formidable opponent; on the contrary, she's the one that is likely to give them the most trouble. The inevitability of her tracking them down eventually does not interest him so much as Rey's admission to having glimpsed them standing as a united front, and even that does not interest him so much as the fact that she has seen anything at all. Wading through the Force in that way is a murky and confusing affair, and while he'd sensed her awakening to the Force itself, gotten a sense of her in some way through Snoke's guidance and his own connection to his ability to perceive the universe in ways that non-sensitives could not, it wasn't with the same detailed explanation that she's giving him now. )

The Force showed them to you? ( He tries to keep his voice level with patience, but it's never been his strong suit, and it rises somewhat in pitch and volume as he interrogates her. ) What did you see?

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literally have no idea what i am talking about la la la mechanics

Me always with Star Wars worldbuilding tbh so I feel you. Consumes EU at a glacial pace.

hahahha likewise. i just have multiple wookiepedia tabs open constantly

sobs i'm so bad at retaining reference material, but i just read 5 pages about sabacc and i'm like y

i am so proud of you. i never retain any information. i literally looked up 'glass' the other day

ok but like how much sleep had you gotten i feel like that is an important fact to consider

i mean probably like 7 which is 7 more than i usually get

oh .............. look i tried to excuse it idk what you want from me

and then i slept for like nine hours anyway it's fine you are forgiven

After this tag I know way too much about start wars spacecraft

hahahah totally applicable to every day situations absolutely

i'm so ready for the GRE question about quadex cores

my friend said he kylo ren told him quadex core questions are definitely on the GRE

truly a credible source

you can cite him your thesis

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/quietly hides my massive knights of ren boner

no get that back out hoW DO YOU EVEN FIND THESE THINGS

i stared FOREVER at the vision scene. and used lots of name generators. IDK MAKING THIS UP AS I GO