the general | v. @adtenebras | incompleteÂ
To set foot on a planet was⊠strange.
It had been years, after all. It had been easy to become caught up in the daily routine of keeping an entire organization running smoothly, rising and falling in time with the shipâs regimented schedule.
But some things had to be settled in person. These were the demands of the planetary counsel, and it was easier to send a small group of shuttles instead of relocating one of their precious destroyers in a grandiose show of force.
Grass was a surreal sensation beneath the sole of his boot. It gave, and shifted, and he couldnât help but glance down at it over and over as though heâd already forgotten what was causing this. All while the diplomats were speaking amongst each other, nothing important, something about leisurely pursuits on this continent.
So the General curtly excused himself, only after double checking that he had both his blaster and his cigarettes. A small handful of specialized troopers followed, and they all stepped down into the dusky gardens.
Hux found himself somehow unsettled by all the new scents that mingled with his cigaretteâs particular blend, pacing the stone paths while he cleared his busy mind.
âYouâre sure thatâs him?â He peered again at the pilfered surveillance holovid and the little man that paced within, authoritative but unremarkable. Rumors of his ferocity and terrifying presence were, so far, unfounded, much to Benâs disappointment. This might not be as difficult a job as itâd been made out to be.
We need him unharmed, Ben. Keep an eye out. We donât know what heâs capable of.
Sure, mom. I got this. Iâll be careful.
With the aid of the binoculars he could see General Hux and his extremely modest retinue, taking a stroll of all things. Politics must wear on even the most notorious of them. Somehow, Ben almost found time to sympathize, but thereâd be no better opportunity to act than now. He flicked a signal to his men, shifted forward like a predator, and the trap was set.
Between the dense cover of the hedges and the nightfall, Hux had been handed to them on a silver platter. This was the ingenious, illustrious General of the First Order? Not likely, butâ they werenât through. Silenced blasterfire perforated the still air of the gardens from the cloak of the shrubbery, felling half of the troopers where they stood, while Benâs own blaster took out the remainder with the sort of uncanny aim that could only be explained by the Force.
Perfectly orchestrated, simultaneous and effective, all before their position had been discovered, let alone before the General could return fire or shout for help. Freezing him in place took care of those particular details. Ben emerged from the shadow with the beginnings of a smirk on his lips, hand lazily outstretched to keep the man still while a resistance fighter cuffed him and another relieved him of his blaster. He was quite handsome, wasnât he? The holovid hadnât done him justice.
âYou made this a little too easy. Wanna go for a ride, General?â
The clatter of a rifle against the overgrown path was the only warning Hux had. The Generalâs hand moved reflexively for his blaster, but his fingers fell just centimeters short. Muscles immediately began to strain and pull against unseen restraints, and attempting to keep a clear head at this point felt like gulping for air in a room with low oxygen.
Faces swaddled in cloth appeared in the growth surrounding the garden, exchanging hand gestures before they swept forward to apprehend the officer.
A woman clad in worn leathers pried the cigarette out from between his fingers, immediately dropping it onto the stone steps. It was crushed beneath the heel of her boot, her vindictive gaze locked firmly with his. There was some small conversation in hushed voices about souvenirs, coupled with pointed looks at the patch on the Generalâs shoulder. What an incredible lack of discipline.
Too easy? The validity of it stung. A dozen excuses could be made, but theyâd be just that. Excuses. In the end, this rag tag group of thugs had not only found him, but made childâs play of his protection. This had been a failure on his part, inexcusable and⊠well, in this light, potentially catastrophic.
He missed whoâd said that, his focus entirely on the man in front of him. The Force sensitive man in front of him. It bothered Hux that he should have known who this man was, but there was nothing in those striking features that felt familiar.
Oh, how he wished he could say some thing, any little bit of the spiteful and barbed dialogue running through his head.
Ben took a moment more to survey his gaunt prisoner, to feel his anger and defeat, before stepping forward to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder that contrasted with the righteous triumph set in his features. This manâs capture was monumental in its victory, in its accomplishment, but there would be time for celebration later. âSee you on the other side,â he said simply, and passed a hand over Huxâs head to lull him to instant sleep. Two soldiers were there to catch him, each taking an arm over their shoulders and joining the others who had already begun to dart back to the ship. They would make it. They would make it.
Taking one last look at the fallen troopers and their pretty resting place, Ben took his leave, too.
As testament to the operationâs success, they hadnât been followed back to DâQar. A welcoming party came out in full force for Ben and his detachment, cheering and jeering at the still-unconscious General; not one among them didnât wish to see him dead, but his capture would sate them for now. He was ferried to his cell, dumped, and abandoned by all save for a single guard to watch over his still form while Ben attended a debriefing.
It was not that guard, however, who Hux would see upon waking, but Ben himself. He lounged against the far wall as Hux stirred in that dim cell, having only just begun to deconstruct his blaster for cleaning to while away the time in wait for this moment. Two other empty cells and the bench Ben occupied made up the dingy little room, the clattering and electrical hum of the baseâs operations distant.
âHey there. Sorry we had to meet like that.â
Huxâs dreams, in the past, had always been a continuation of his work: the hushed voices of his subordinates debating trajectories, the click of boots against the floor of a crowded corridor, panels that periodically displayed numbers and commands before dimming. This time, it was unfamiliar.
An unfamiliar storage compartment, filled to the ceiling with unfamiliar duraplastic crates. He couldnât have possibly been aboard a First Order vessel, everything seemed wrong. The General knew he needed to find an exit. His gloved hands gripped the edge of the cargo as he searched for a door or a hatch, anything; instead, he came face to face with a torn Resistance banner.
Hux woke, acutely and immediately aware of his surroundings. His face was pressed against the rough surface of a wall, and every muscle in his body ached. Was it from the paralysis? With his head bowed, he stared at the hands bound in his lap.
He preferred the dream to this.
That voice forced the officer to take in his greater surroundings, his usually carefully slicked back hair now falling forward against his brow. It was the Jedi; thatâs what he had to be, after all. He couldnât even imagine the value of a resource like a force sensitive individual.
âWe werenât even introduced.â Hux spoke slowly, but he kept his voice steady despite the circumstances. He had no intention of showing weakness, not even now.
Ben could already feel the Generalâs thoughts stirring, absorbing the surroundings and the situation at hand. He continued to lovingly pass a cloth over the burnished metal of his blaster as he spoke, quiet and conversational. His eyes never met his captiveâs.
âI already know you. The illustrious, decorated General Huxââ Here, his lip turned briefly, despite the thick sarcasm in his words; ââand an easy catch at that. Your little entourage put up no more of a fight than a handful of womp rats.â
As he continued to deconstruct the mechanisms of the blaster and inspected each piece, a new cockiness entered his voice. âAs for me, Iâm Ben Organa-Solo, and Iâm your new best friend.â He finally dragged his gaze to Hux, a lazy, self-assured smirk on his lips as he settled against the wall. âDo they teach you friendship at brainwashing school?â
Humiliation wasnât a familiar emotion for the General. Even the handful of, honestly complimentary, adjectives that Ben had to offer felt more like a mockery; in fact, there may have even been a marked eye roll as he turned to put his back against the wall. It served to help support his weight, straighten his spine, and regain some of that lost pride. Circumstances be damned, he still represented the Order.
The Order. Relius refused to welcome the cold tendril of doubt lingering at the edge of his mind. It was quiet, but persistent in its orbit. Are they coming for me? Of course they were, he would argue, but a thought is a powerful and relentless thing.
Hux could ignore the majority of his captorâs monologue (did he think himself charming?), but that introduction grabbed greedily at him. That senatorâs son. He could see it now, in that sharp gaze, that same face heâd gone toe to toe with a handful of times in the political ring.
âI want to speak to her. I am a political prisoner, correct?â He didnât need to specify, or at least he believed it was clear enough.
The Generalâs attempts at piecing his dignity back together didnât go unnoticed. Futile, but admirable, Ben supposed. Heâd expected no less. He tapped a fingertip against the blasterâs muzzle, tracing the nicks where itâd clattered to the ground countless times in either neglect or the simple rigors of battle.
âWho?â He dragged his eyes languidly over the Generalâs form, so slight and so defeated. Disappointingly human despite the (likely exaggerated) tales of the manâs cruel exploits. An acute mind, and perhaps not much more than that.
Her. There was only one her, but Ben wasnât through having his fun. âSorry to disappoint if you were hoping for a prettier guard, but weâre fresh out of them.â
He was being toyed with. Huxâs complexion had gone ruddy in the wake of this realization, his frustration all too clear. In all of his effort to remain dignified, he couldnât remember the last time anyone had spoken to him this way.
âThen you can expect nothing from me until Iâve spoken to the Senator.â His heels were dug in now, and he had no plans on budging. âOr who ever wants to pretend theyâre in command of this rag tag organization.â
For all his sardonic humor leading up to this point, Ben slipped easily into a harsher tone while managing to maintain that grin, just as stubborn with the added bonus of nothing to lose. Smiles came easy to him, just as authority came to the General. âThere you go already, thinking you have any say in how this goes down. Youâre pretty rude for a guy everyone wants dead anyway.â He began to unhurriedly reassemble the blaster. âMomâs busy. And you can call her General.â
There was nothing surprising about the taunts Ben had tossed around. Power attracted a variety of enemies, this was the natural order of things. Still, it did illuminate one fact: Hux was alive. That meant theyâd be expecting to extract information from him, or use him as some kind of a bargaining chip- a ploy the First Order would never even entertain.
Was it up to himself to escape? There was that persistent doubt again. The General swallowed slowly, refocusing his attention on the lanky man near by.
âBen Solo-Organa.â He repeated the name, deliberately slow, as though committing it to his memory. Force sensitive, force trained. A proper Jedi, even, perhaps.
They had been working to eradicate them. Hux himself had spent countless nights pouring over pilfered, ancient texts- all to try and gain any understanding of this archaic warrior. Training manuals had been pieced together, procedures had been put into place. Many troopers had died, only for Huxâs staff to collect any and all data surrounding the incident so that they could so that they could reevaluate.
The small pieces and parts of the newly trained Jedi had been a stubborn thorn in his side, but the First Order proved stronger and more organized. They undoubtably had the upper hand.
âWhy are you here, then?â
Something he was honestly curious about. Was the man skilled enough to read minds, to manipulate Huxâs actions? He found himself on edge now, fists clenched, wondering just what sort of precautions could even be taken against such a thing.
Ben didnât expect to hate quite so much how the General tasted his name like that. While the dark side didnât cling to him like Ben had anticipated (as force sensitive as a blade of grass, this one,) it was difficult not to feel the weight of death on him. Not by his hand, no, but by his command. Such evil tended to cloud the thoughts, especially the thoughts of those sensitive to it; the handful of those who were left, at any rate. They were being picked off byhim.
A question. Heâd almost missed it in his musing and the brush of anger heâd had to ignore. Ben scoffed, as if it should be obvious. âIâm babysitting you, should you try anything heroic. Not that I think youâre capable of it. Youâre going to bide your time, see if your friends will come rescue you, but I have bad news for you, pal.â The blaster was holstered at his thigh, leaving his hands free to lace behind his neck. He cocked his head, giving Hux a cool, assured look. âThey arenât.â
Heâd be harangued for chatting with the prisoner so much, he was sure, but Ben could glean a lot of information simply from the Generalâs reaction to his half-baked razzingâ a level-headed man, but capable of terrible thingsâ and besides, there would be no need to showcase the extent of his power by simply extracting the information he needed.
It wasnât as fun, either.
Oh, anyone on this miserable base could have babysat him. There was something personal to this, and it didnât take much effort to piece together why. The Resistance ran in this boyâs blood. The force swam in that handsome head of his. He had to have hated Hux, exceptionally hated him.
âYouâre correct.Theyâre more practical than that.â Was it true? Did he believe it? Perhaps he did, but this response wasnât for his own sake. He wanted to gauge Benâs reaction.
âSo you would have been better off killing rather than capturing me. Or are you people planning on something more public?â He didnât seem nervous or bewildered anymore, in fact he wasnât even flustered.
Perhaps he could yet live up to the reports of his intelligence, if he truthfully realized how hopeless his situation was. âI have no idea whatâs in store for you yet, but itâs not going to be an all-expenses-paid trip to Spira. Sorry.âYouâre lucky itâs not up to me, his eyes said, despite the lingering simper. It was becoming more difficult to pretend he wanted anything for Hux other than a swift death.
Ben had, up until this point, remained in his own thoughts, an automatic courtesy extended to Hux for far too long. Now, though, he let himself stray.
âŠAnd Ben found nothing but surety when he let his consciousness brush against Huxâs, something the man mightâve not even felt. It told Ben all he needed to know. âYouâre not apprehensive about what might happen to you?â The question was posed in honest curiosity as the Jedi continued to search the Generalâs eyes and, more subtly, what lay behind.
After years of commanding, it was impossible for Hux to miss those minute changes in the way Ben regarded him. It seemed that suave attitude Ben chose to hide behind had developed a few cracks.
âNo. It wouldnât serve any purpose.â The General spoke slowly, with continued confidence, his chin kept high. Even with his hands bound behind his back, his shoulders still proving an aching distraction, he held himself as any officer should.
âIâm interested in progress, Ben. Iâm interested in speaking to someone who actually maintains some authority here.â
Tiring of Huxâs shows of confidence (and even moreso of the actual confidence that radiated from him), Ben straightened where he sat and rolled his shoulders, cocking a brow. âJust because I donât have the final say doesnât mean I donât have a say. And unfortunately for you, Iâm not interested in helping to soften the sentence youâre likely to get. You have a lot of information we need.â
Here Ben picked up the blaster again, though not by any physical means; the threads of the force lifted it above his lap, and slowly, it came apart in midair just as Ben had done with his hands earlier. He didnât raise a single finger.
âThe mind isnât so hard to pick apart, either,â he mused quietly as the gleaming components clinked against each other and sought their place once more.
It took an enormous amount of self control for Relius to keep still, to not make some sort of tiny exclamation in a gasp or a flinch. This was what lay in his cards, and there wasnât even a bluff left for him to make. He wish he had more time to think, time alone and without this distraction-
âNow youâre just showing off.â As usual, Poe didnât wait for an invitation. He unshouldered his flight bag, letting it hit the floor with a solidthwump, before taking a seat next to Ben. Fresh off of a sortie, he hadnât even changed out of his gear- heâd figured that his friend would be in need of a little company. An unconscious, evil overlord wasnât about to do the trick, anyways.
Except the General was awake. He wasnât looking at the pilot, heâd only spared him a quick glance before setting his sights on Ben all over again, but that was fine. Poe shifting his weight forward, elbows braced against his thighs. âSo, is he talking?â Like the General wasnât even there.
He wouldâve liked to enjoy the Generalâs surprise a little longer, but suddenly Poe was there, as Poe was inclined to do. The blaster dropped into his lap, concentration scattered. He found himself locking eyes with Hux even as his thoughts strayed quite away from him.
Poe came back. Poe always came back. Still, to have him physically here was reassuring in a way Ben found consistently difficult to ignore.
âItâs like trying to hold a conversation with a Jawa. They talk, but all you hear is this high-pitched chattering, and they never say anything important.â At last he glanced sidelong at the pilot. âGotta say Iâm disappointed.â
âWould you rather I take on a vow of silence?â There was no small amount of chagrin in Huxâs tone, his lips drawn in a sneer. As a matter of fact, that should have been his first course of action, but the situation had over whelmed him.
âYes,â Poeâs reply was immediate, one finger raised in the Generalâs direction, before it was half lowered. âActually, Iâll level with you. Itâs probably better to just get the important confessions out of the way. Anything about, I donât know, those ion flux cooling systems your squadrons are using.â
Huxâs eyes slowly rolled into the back of his head, and then closed.
âIâm already getting bored of him.â Ben let his head tilt back to rest against the wall, studying Hux with dark, hooded eyes. âThis /is/ actually their General, right? Heâs kinda wimpy looking.â