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It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment two stormtroopers are advancing towards them, the next two bodies lie on the floor unconscious.
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” remarks Finn, clutching at the white helmet he took from one of the soldiers. “A really bad idea.”
He’s right of course, but the voice in her head keeps pushing her. “It’s too late to turn back. Besides, it’s not like we never escaped from a First Order base before,” she quips as she adjusts the last piece of armour.
The plastoid chest plate is too large for her twig-like figure, but she can’t be picky when it comes to stolen equipment, can she? It’s not like she’s joining the First Order, anyway.
“Don’t make jokes about that,” Finn objects while verifying she attached the plates in the correct order. His hands are trembling when he passes the helmet to her but not from fear - from something else. Something she doesn’t have words for.
She summons a reassuring smile and pats him on the shoulder to appear more confident than she is. It’s no use, because in his eyes lies the determination of a soldier, and the concern of a friend who knows better. “We haven’t come all this way to abort the mission, Finn.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I know. I wish there was another way though.”
“Me, too.”
Me, too.
His arms envelop her in a tight embrace, and they stand there for a moment, enjoying the comfortable silence. She hasn't thanked him for trekking to the end of the galaxy, and most importantly for not grilling her about what happened at the temple. Finn is far from an idiot, and it doesn’t take the Force to see that meeting with the fabled Luke Skywalker, saviour of the Galaxy, wasn’t quite the experience she expected. On the rare occasions she looks into a mirror, even she can’t help but notice the gravity simmering in her eyes. Something darker she doesn’t want to think about.
It’s Finn who breaks the embrace. “Did you get the code before that guy fell asleep?” He crouches and starts tugging at the tube-shaped canister attached to her lower back before she has a chance to answer.
“Try Four-Two-Seven-Nine,” she responds absently.
“Try?” Finn asks a little concerned. “There’s no ‘trying’. Either you’re right or boom!” he adds, imitating the sound of a bomb going off.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the right combination.”
At last Finn chuckles. It’s as good a sign as any.
“Anyway, I can’t be wrong. I promised Rose that I’d bring you back in one piece.”
“You what now?” he asks, a note of embarrassment in his voice.
“She made it abundantly clear that if something happens to you, the Resistance will hunt me down. By the Resistance, she means her, Poe and BB-8. You’ve made quite the impression.”
Finn giggles. “Shush, you. I have a thermo detonator to extract. Stay still.”
She raises the helmet and studies it. It’s as impersonal as you can get. Over the years, how many of these has she found attached to a dead body on Jakku? “It must be good to be surrounded by people who love you.”
“I wish you could have stayed with us,” Finn replies. “You’d have loved it. Until the recent attacks , that is. Now, it’s not the same. People are scared.”
Even the helmet seems to be giving her a disapproving look now. Why can’t she shut her mouth sometimes?
The canister opens eventually with a soft pop, and Finn hands her a metallic ball topped with a rather ominous red button.
“Give me your lightsaber. Here. It’s in the tube now. Perfect. You’re all set,” Finn finally announces. She’d rather keep her weapon close to her, but there are no better alternatives than smuggling it inside the utility belt. A stormtrooper with a lightsaber? That’s a sure way to attract the attention of the wrong kind. It’s a good thing she’s perfected a trick or two with Luke, or they wouldn’t have been able to guess the combination that is unique to each stormtrooper.
Finn accepts the gloved hand she presents and stands up. In return, and as a form of thank you perhaps, he pats her shoulder, like he must have done hundreds of times to his comrades when he was a stormtrooper. “Repeat mission parameters one last time?”
She nods and begins summarising the plan they came up with before leaving D’Qar.
“Infiltrate. Find target location. Extract. Or...” she hesitates. Some words are harder to say than others. “Kill.” She might be wearing the First Order's colours today, but she refuses to use their euphemisms.
“I think you’re ready to go,” Finn says. “I wish I could come with you. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
She gives a quick nod of the head. It would be so much easier if she could tell the whole truth, explain that some things are bigger than her, that she needs to walk this path alone.
Every time she looks at Finn a pang of envy pinches her heart. He found his place with the Resistance, with Poe, Rose, and General Leia. He and the other soldiers who are fighting every day have a purpose: to put an end to the war. Some mornings she wakes up missing Jakku. It was hard, lonely, unfair, but it was her choice to stay. Even though Maz told her the belonging she craves is ahead it’s hard to believe you even have a future when everything around you falls apart.
She takes a long last look at Finn before disappearing under the white helmet. Kriff, it’s heavy! Also itchy and uncomfortable.
She points at the two men lying at their feet. “I’ll be alright. Just make sure they don’t wake up and alert the rest of the base.” Her voice comes out completely changed, distorted by the vocoder. It’s like she’s become someone else. Perhaps that’s the reason Ben found it so easy to slip inside the persona of Kylo Ren?
Finn warned her that wearing the armour would be an unpleasant experience, but it’s even more claustrophobic that she’d imagined. Finding her way isn’t going to be easy with such reduced visibility. As Finn explained in painful details, the last report sent to the Resistance about this new base was incomplete. In all likelihood their informant got arrested (or worse) before she could transmit the entirety of the blueprints, adding another name to the long list of casualties.
“I should go. See you at the rendezvous point.”
The corridors aren’t as large as Starkiller base, but they go on and on forever. Large numbers are carved into the walls to show which section they belong to, and according to their intel, there should be a fork about a hundred meters ahead, where the corridor splits into two passageways. The problem is that after that, she has no idea where to go. But who needs a map when they have the Force, right?
She opens her senses and draws a long breath as Luke told her to do numerous time. His voice resonates in her ears: “Let it flow and guide you; it’s like a tide or a gentle current. If you try to swim against it, you’ll only tire yourself.” It would have been amazing if he hadn’t pushed her into the water after hearing she’d never learnt to swim on Jakku.
A faint nudge on her left side informs her she should go that way. The Force is always right. Right?
As soon as she enters the hallway, her heart drops. A full division led by a stormtrooper with a red pad across the shoulder is heading straight towards her, their heavy footsteps echoing against the wall like a horde of angry happabores.
Kriff! And of course, there’s nowhere to hide.
Except, she doesn’t have to. As a matter of fact, they don’t even acknowledge the lone Stormtrooper who keeps walking with her head straight like nothing bizarre is afoot.
When she turns down the corridor, instead of sighing with relief, she can’t help but curse under her breath. What is she even doing here in the heart of First Order territory? This hangar must be double the size of the one on Starkiller. Hundreds of ships and shuttles are stationed on either side of the tarmac, ready for deployment. Troops, workers, officers, and maintenance droids are coming and going, every one of them minding their own business. Luckily they’re all too busy to pay any attention to her.
She takes a deep breath and channels Luke once more. The Force embraces her like a mother would their child, stopping her heart from trying to escape from her ribcage. It’s almost like she isn’t trapped with the deadliest troops the First Order has to offer as she crosses the hangar bay toward ‘somewhere’. Wherever that ‘somewhere’ is, she’s reaching it one step at a time. At least the garage reeks of the reassuring smell of grease and petrol. Who would have thought she’d ever miss the polishing station of that greedy Unkar Plutt?
But the past is in the past, and she's almost there. Luckily, no one can see her smiling smugly under the mask as she notices the exit. From there another hallway opens . It’s a wider space that leads to several smaller corridors. Signs on the wall show directions along this aisle: there’s a canteen nearby, maintenance rooms, and an infirmary further down. Too bad there’s no neon sign showing “Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren.”
A chuckle amplified by the vocoder escapes her throat, immediately drawing the attention of two stormtroopers stationed nearby. The one on the right walks in her direction with the air of someone who just walked into bantha poop and wanted to wipe his boots on your new coat.
“You! Identify yourself!”
Her body stiffens into a salute. She can talk her way out of this. After all, Finn briefed her extensively on First Order protocols during their journey. But the First Order probably knows that as well, and they may have taken extra precautions to eliminate the spies.
“RY-1707 sir.” That sounded convincing enough, surely.
“Never heard of RY Corps,” the trooper replies suspiciously. “Where were you deployed?”
Her legs are getting twitchy with impatience. It would be so much easier to use her powers to persuade the stormtroopers to leave her alone, but two female officers are now joining them, intrigued by the scene. Why does everyone in the First Order act like sharks drawn to blood? No doubt that if they suspect she’s a spy, she’ll end up strapped to a metal chair. Never again .
Years of trading with Unkar on Jakku prepared her for this anyway. If a small skinny girl could keep her wits with the smarmy junk dealer, surely a woman who trained under the tutelage of the last Jedi can get out of any prickly conversation.
“I was assigned to the Bormea sector, sir. Arrived this morning.”
“Bormea?” the trooper repeats, not convinced. “What are you doing here today?”
Should she lie?
“I was sent to deliver a message to Lord Ren.”
“Ren?” the stormtrooper exclaims. Even if she can’t see his face, the way his body stiffens at that name betrays bewilderment.
One of the female officer leans closer to her colleague. “Probably a prank of MS-1111. He likes to terrify new recruits.” There’s an accent of cruelty in her voice, similar to those of the Imperial generals she’d scavenged holovids of.
An unseen look passes between the two troopers. With some luck, they’ll let her go to avoid any trouble with Ren. It’s not like a spy would willingly admit they’re about to pay a visit to Snoke’s Force prodigy. Even the officers are walking away, uninterested in her fate.
“Come with us,” the stormtrooper orders. “We will accompany you. For you own safety,” he adds ominously.
Left without any choice, her feet follow the two soldiers down the corridor until they stop before a large metal door. A gush of cold wind escapes after it opens with a whoosh.
“Get in.”
They must sense her hesitation because the stormtrooper who hasn’t spoken yet, gives her a push to emphasise his meaning.
This new corridor looks more like a cave than a human-made structure, and it’s difficult to believe it belongs to the same base. The walls reek of humidity.
“I can find my way. Just point me in the right direction.”
The stormtroopers remain silent as they walk in front of her. Kriff! They must know who she is, or most likely what she isn’t. There’s no way this passage leads to Ren’s quarters. It’s foul and dusty in here, nowhere near the obsessive level of cleanliness the First Order is famous for.
She’s about to whack their head with the lightsaber she’s discreetly retrieved from the hidden compartment, when they come to halt in front of a second metallic door. Blast. This one looks like a prison door but the stormtrooper who stayed silent until now turns to her and whispers: “Do not make him mad.”
The door slides ajar, and the two stormtroopers instantly freeze on either side. Once she's stepped across on the threshold, they retreat in a hurry, not concerned by protocol or her safety anymore.
The room is cleaner than she’d imagined - It’s an octagonal chamber, with black walls and chrome panels, not unlike the place where she was detained on Starkiller. However, instead of a torture rack, a large leather chair sits under the main source of light.
“I was waiting for you, Jedi.”
Blood curdles in her veins, and for a fraction of a second, it’s like the oxygen is sucked out of her lungs. She hates what his voice does to her.
“I’m no Jedi,” she responds as coldly as she can. “Not yet.”
He’s addressing her from a shadowed corner, his long legs dangling from what looks like a cushioned surface. Difficult to tell through the dark lenses of the helmet. Wait, is it a bed?
“Am I interrupting your nap?” she teases.
He scoffs. “You can take that bucket off. No need for disguise, it’s just the two of us here.”
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” she responds with bravado to emphasise she’s not afraid. The stormtroopers may crap themselves because of Lord Ren’s bad temper and spooky command of the Force, but he’s no threat to her. Not anymore.
Contrary to what she expected, he stands up in silence to walk to a nearby alcove. When he steps towards the light, he’s holding that dreadful helmet.
Somehow he looks different from their last encounter; it’s not just the scar she gave him, it’s how he stands, how he inhabits his body. Even his clothes have changed; more practical, less intimidating. He’s no longer a pale boy with sunken eyes who built a shell of black fabric to isolate himself from the world; he’s a man trapped within himself.
She jolts when he throws the mask at her feet. There’s no fight? No insults? All he does is stand behind the chair, using it as a shield. A barrier between them.
Her helmet joins his on the floor, the cool air taking care of the thin layer of sweat that beads on her forehead. Unlike Poe, icebreakers have never been her forte. “You said you were expecting me? Are these your quarters or are you putting on a show?”
Once more, he refuses to take the bait. His mouth stays tightly shut in a line as his eyes scan her from top to toe. He must be under stress because his hands are tightly gripping the back of that poor chair.
“Say your piece and be on your way, while you still can,” he finally says impassioned.
“You know why I’m here. Luke needs you.”
He snorts.
“Ben, listen to me.” His shoulders twitch at the mention of his birth name. “You know it’s true.”
Before she can continue, he dashes towards her, face contorted by hatred. In less than a second he’s looming over her, his hitched breath crashing on her skin like the angry waves of Ahch-To.
Kriff. He's so tall. And large. The room shrinks around them, like a star collapsing in on itself.
“Whatever Skywalker told you, he lied.” His voice and body tremble like a steam machine put under too much pressure and ready to explode. “He’s a liar and a coward!” he adds, leaning further. “Sending you to do his bidding, because he can’t even face me.”
“You’re wrong.”
They study one another in tense silence until his eyes linger for too long on her lips. She pushes him to regain some personal space. “As a matter of fact, he didn’t send me. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
That piece of information takes him by surprise. The tension in his jaw relaxes a bit. It doesn’t stop him from throwing her a suspicious look though.
“He didn’t send me because he thinks he failed you, that he lost you forever. It’s killing him.”
The tremors in Ben’s muscles return immediately.
“He also thinks that he can defeat Snoke on his own. But that’s not true.” Her breath catches, waiting for an answer or a reaction. Ben has an awful glower on his face.
“He doesn’t need me,” he spews bitterly. “He has you. The Last Hope for the Jedi.” Could he sound even more condescending than that if he tried?
His face turns sour. “He’s never needed me. I’ve always been expendable.”
Despite herself, her hand moves slowly towards his sleeve as a sign of trust, or peace perhaps. She came to the edge of the galaxy to find out the truth after all. She’s trying to picture the lanky boy Luke trained in the Force, before they all made choices they now regret. But before she can reach him, he retreats and flops into the chair.
“And no one can defeat Snoke. I paid a hefty price to learn that lesson.”
“Perhaps Snoke convinced you. But that’s not the truth. Deep down, you know it.”
A pained grin creeps over his face, and he springs to his feet once more. He really can’t rest, can he?
“You think you know better than me because you stole my life?” he erupts, pointing an accusing finger to her chest.
All of a sudden this “thing”, this energy that was flowing on Starkiller the day they met, is back. Invisible tendrils are creeping like vines around their limbs. Perhaps it's not the time to notice that his Adam’s apple wobbles when he’s angry?
A crease on his forehead appears. “Skywalker did nothing! Skywalker let me rot here. He said he’d find a way to stop The Supreme Leader’s rise.”
Luke spoke similar words on Ahch-To. “I let him go. He trusted me to do the right thing, but he was impatient and naive. We were all too naive.”
Ben continues, aggravated. “The Supreme Leader only reaped what the Jedi sowed!”
“I need to know,” she pleads. “You wanted the map so badly, why? What was your plan?” Her voice becomes soft and soothing; she’s not here to antagonise him after all. Just to uncover the truth, to hear it from his mouth. He must think she’s trying to trick him because he takes two steps backwards.
“Who cares? It doesn’t matter anymore. The Jedi found you; he can defeat Snoke and put an end to all of this.” The Force flares around them. “Now, leave me to my misery. You and your accursed friends stole everything from me.”
She senses his emotions as if they were her own; hope and love twisted, gnawed at, rotten and disfigured. Anger mistaken for a sense of purpose. Regrets. Sadness. Fear.
There’s something else , too. Something that shouldn’t be there when he reminisces their fight in the snow, something forbidden that keeps him awake at night; he hates it, yet he craves it all the same.
“Get out!” he shouts. There’s no way to be sure if he’s talking about the room or his head. “You managed to fool them once. Don’t push your luck,” he adds more quietly.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She stomps her foot, trying to make her point. She's had enough. “Why aren’t you listening? Your uncle! You! Your mother! All the same! What is wrong with you all?”
Ren walks menacingly towards her. Perhaps he’s hoping to scare her for good.
What he doesn’t know is that she’s as tenacious as a steelpecker who found a nice piece of metal to feed on in the desert. “You need to come with me. Luke cannot defeat Snoke because Snoke has YOU, don’t you understand?”
His eyes flare with rage.
Her hand flies to her lightsaber, but his reflexes are too quick. A gloved hand snaps around her wrist before she can press the button, and her body slams against the duracrete, trapped between the wall and Ren.
“Oh, I understand perfectly now” he growls in her ear. “I’m valuable to Snoke, and we can’t have that, can we?”
Kriffing idiot!
“Get off me!” she snarls, calling the Force to her, her hands itching with energy as they connect with his chest.
His body flies across the room and goes smashing against the chair. When he tries to get up, the tip of her boot meets with his nose. She’s not going easy because violence is apparently the only language he understands. It wasn’t always like that though.
Luke told her stories of a young boy with a crooked smile and knobby knees who loved to study lore and artefacts.
Blood pours from his broken nose, but she doesn’t give him time to wipe his face . In one swift move she thumbs her weapon on and sits on his chest with her knees pinning both of his arms to the floor, ready to nest her blade in his heart. If he still has one.
The look of pure shock and horror on his face is almost comical, and a wild grin creeps over her face. She bested him again. It’s a good thing Luke isn’t watching– he certainly wouldn’t approve of such a display of raw emotion.
“Why?” she asks, trying to regain control.
She puts more pressure on his wrists, claiming a wince of pain from him. Nothing ‘Kylo Ren’ cannot endure, surely.
“After all the things you’ve done? They still love you.” Her fingers twitch around the shaft of the lightsaber. Killing him right now, on the cold floor, would be so easy. It would also be the right thing to do for the Galaxy. Not everyone was given a second chance. Not her mum. Not her dad. “Why? Why?”
Why do they keep loving him?
Ren freezes, eyes wide open with shock.
Her voice breaks more than she’d like it to. “You don’t get it, do you? Luke can’t defeat Snoke because he doesn’t have the will to destroy YOU! You thought he had betrayed you, so you betrayed him in return, is that what happened? You lost hope? How could you lose hope?” Why are tears flooding her eyes now? She’s not the type to cry. Water is too precious to waste, especially on idiots like Kylo Ren.
He looks at her bewildered. She wants to punch him in the face, make him bleed even more but he’s not even trying to fight. “You’re not a weapon to them. They never lost faith in you when you went away. They didn’t abandon you.”
The heat of her lightsaber is burning a hole in the padding above his heart, but he doesn’t appear to be in pain. He keeps staring up at her with those big brown eyes that can’t decide if they’re infinitely sad or mad.
“Rey,” he splutters, choking on his blood.
She loosens up the pressure on his chest and frees him before turning off the weapon, allowing him to rest on his elbows. It’s the first time he’s said her name out loud.
“Your parents,” he continues despite the pain. “They wanted to come back.”
“I know,” she responds plainly, “Luke told me.”
“And you’re still following him?” he asks with genuine surprise.
She looks down on that man who did terrible things for the right reasons. “Why not? I have good things to protect now. Friends to protect. Like you had, once.”
What would it feel like to do the wrong thing for the right reasons?
They stare at each other for a very long time, eyes blurry and unfocused. She needs to know.
“Will you come with me, or do I kill you here?”
He lets his upper body hit the ground and twists his mouth in an attempt at a gory smile. The blood drips down his cheeks and soaks the dark crown of his hair on the floor.
“Do I really have a choice?” he asks derisively.
“You always have a choice. Always. ”