#nightsfirst

“Agent Zed, status.”  Hux forced a pretense of calm into his voice as the palace descended into chaos around him. He spoke crisply into his comm.  “I need you to divert Hapan navy from the west corridor on the ground floor. Can you access their comm channel?”

REY: So that’s my plan. FEE: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean. REY: No, go ahead, I want to hear it. FEE: It fucking sucks. REY: That’s not constructive criticism.

For once, Third Sister is here for her own reasons and not with Seventh. She strides down the middle of the hall, neat little rows of white armor parting around her. Third smirks as they sense the troopers’ disquietude. As she reaches out, though, she feels another presence following in her wake.   (Well, well. This visit might even be interesting.)   Third turns a swift corner and stops to await their pursuer.

“Aren’t you a curious little thing? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

How long had it been since the incident? Since communications had been shut off and felt like he was left in the dark? If there was one thing that Kylo Ren hated the most, it was not knowing what the fuck was going on with his own people. They needed command. They needed guidance and he needed to make sure they fell in line and didn't mess anything up. Each piece was vital. Each movement made by the Empire was calculated and he had a hand in a majority of it. He needed to make sure that each piece of the puzzle fit together perfectly and none were about to fall out of place. Who would he have been without order? Without people fearing the man they knew as Kylo Ren? A breath and he looks up at the door to his office as it opens. He's caught in an awkward moment. He's dressed in his normal black outfit, the one that everyone is used to seeing him in, however, his helmet is on the desk at his side, his dark gaze is resting upon them as they enter. "May I help you?" His voice is even but then he softens ever so slightly as recognition hit. "I never did get to thank you properly for stitching me up that night. Thank you."

The nightsister from the future had been kind enough when they patched up Zeb’s eye.   (Or... what had been Zeb’s eye.)   They didn’t really know Fee well, not like the other displaced Resistance kids did, or even the rebels who’d met her in the years Zeb missed after Endor. But word got around the base that they were a trustworthy sort with a sympathetic ear, and Zeb was starting to feel bad about always burdening Hera with his problems. Trouble was the problems just kept coming.