#ltxmitaka

The First Order had fallen, and all around the galaxy entire worlds were rapt in celebration. And bloodshed. Stormtrooper occupations were disbanded and arrested. Any surviving loyalists had bounties on their heads; at least those that the Resistance knew about. Most, however, were nothing but ash, buried in the unknown regions beneath their ravaged dreadnoughts. It was a new era, and Phasma had long ago fashioned herself into a new likeness to survive in it. 

The cantinas usually proved good hunting grounds for new jobs and bounties when business was slow, and by now she’d gained enough of a reputation that she rarely had to pay for her own drinks. She rarely socialized, opting to sit quietly at a table and listen, observe, always and forever the quiet predator taking in her surroundings. Information, after all, could be more valuable than bounties in lean seasons.

Then, a familiar voice caught her attention. A soft and subtle timbre, an accent being masked. Phasma looked to the bar where it originated and saw a man’s back, the shape of him obscured by baggy, slightly-too-large threadbare clothes. Just a local. Some world-weary stranger ordering a drink, and nothing more. Phasma would have dismissed her recognition, had he not turned away from the bar with his drink to scan for an open table.

Mitaka.

Phasma’s entire body stiffened at the sight of his face. The last time she’d seen him, she was being dispatched, accompanying the General to collect two Rebels and hand over a large sum of bounty in exchange. She’d never mastered the art of affection in their relationship, but him...with a few words, he’d expressed his, and asked for a promise that she would make a swift and safe return. It was a promised she was destined to break, and now a terrible feeling, much worse than the pain of hunger, began to gnaw at her stomach as she watched him, both unable to stand looking at him, or to tear her eyes away. 

The swirl of emotions rising like bile into the back of her throat made her shudder, and finally, through the open lower panel of her helmet, she took a long drink of the glowing blue alcohol in her glass, then sealed the panel shut, retreating into the full safety of her mask.

The very act of saving Hux’s life could be considered treason, given the circumstances, but Mitaka couldn’t possibly have left him there to die, not after years of working by his side. His loyalty to the First Order was one thing - his loyalty to the best officer he’d ever known was another thing entirely.

Standing by Hux’s bedside, he almost wanted to laugh - at least it would be better than bursting into tears, which was what he’d been fighting before Hux had spoken up. “You don’t owe me anything, sir,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I’m just relieved that you’re alright.”

Hux was thankful he was alive. He had not expected Pryde to just shoot him right there, in the middle of the bridge in front of all their men. It must have been revenge for Brendol. They had been friends. Hux took in a deep breath and looked up at Mitaka. He was his best lieutenant and the most loyal man he knew. 

There was no denying how strongly he felt about the prospect of the General taking his leave. Starkiller Base had been a disaster, that much was true, but it seemed unfair for such a dedicated and loyal officer to lose his rank because of it, after all that he’d done for the Order.

“There must be some other way,” Mitaka insisted, a little desperation bleeding into his own voice. He’d admired Hux for so long, had been overjoyed to be allowed to work under him directly, loathed the thought of losing him. “Couldn’t you work your way back into good graces? It isn’t impossible.”

  “ It’ll take years to rebuild my reputation that I’ve worked so hard to construct. The fear I instilled in our men and the resistance no longer stands...”

    Lowly Hux expressed, well aware of the many options he had gone over several times. Now he had been replaced and that certainly did not sit well with him. It was a reminder how easily replaceable anyone in the Order could become. 

   Others deemed his mistake due to his age, being one of the youngest known to reach such a status he had. Hux was constantly reminded of his failures. He could only handle so much.

 “ I can no longer endure serving Supreme Leader Ren.

Send “💖” and my muse will admit something they find cute about yours.

“You don’t sound fine,” Mitaka pointed out, quite bluntly. He could hear the panic seeping into the trooper’s voice, even with it amplified and distorted by his helmet. His body language spoke volumes. And he knew that they were taught to hide their distress as much as humanly possible, had heard of far too many cases of troopers dying because they didn’t want to speak up about physical discomfort that had ended up being fatal.

Still, perhaps here is too public. He thought for a moment, pulling up his datapad and typing in a quick request. Less than a minute later, it pinged, and he nodded, typing back a quick thank-you to the nurse who had responded. “Come with me,” he insisted, with a gentle touch to the trooper’s elbow, indicating that he could help support his weight should he feel unable to walk on his own. “I have a private office in the medbay that is ours to use. I won’t press seeking medical attention unless it becomes necessary, though I would appreciate it if you would come with me and remove your helmet so that we can speak. Just between you and I. No assessment.” He looked up at the trooper, offering a reassuring smile.

“Deal?”

       FN-2437 was doing his best to keep it together in front of the other. There was only so much he could show in resistance to the officer. The fact that he was resistant at all bothered him. This mixture of emotions was overwhelming. He didn’t verbally contradict the officer, as much as he wanted to insist he was fine. 

       The touch was too gentle for him to be comfortable. He twisted in his suit to see his hands on his elbow and quickly straightened. “Yes sir.” He acknowledged without argument. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be taken straight to reprogramming, but he had little choice that the moment. Maybe his officer was going to have better solutions to help him, or maybe he was just going to shoot him. Either way, this wasn’t a deal he was allowed to refuse.