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Chapter Text

Kylo had to bite back the first sharp reply that came to him when his master said that the Finalizer was not under his command alone; it involved some of the colorful curses he had picked up from Outer Rim mercenaries as a boy. But that was another life—one he had cut his ties to with his blade two years ago. Instead, he forced himself to keep his voice steady as he said, “Master, I’ve earned this. I’ve done everything you’ve told me to do. I haven’t failed at any task. You said I would have a ship.”

“And you do,” Snoke replied in his loose rubble voice.

“Then assign this general to another destroyer,” Kylo said. “I don’t need him.”

Despite the hundreds of parsecs between them, Snoke probed into his mind hard enough to make him wince. When Kylo displeased him, he had a quick and decisive punishment ready. Kylo, chastised, backed down.

“Fine, Master,” he said. “If this is what you want, then I will do it as you command.”

Snoke’s holographic projection sat back in his chair. “Good. You cannot always be aboard the Finalizer. In your absence, General Hux will see to the running of the ship.”

“I won’t answer to him,” Kylo growled, temper flaring. “You are the only master I have. He will do as I say.”

“No,” was the pointed counter. “Your rank is equal to his.”

Kylo scowled, even though he knew Snoke could see it without his mask to conceal him. He worked outside and above the First Order’s military; he had no rank. He was the Supreme Leader’s chosen apprentice, not a regular soldier like this co-commander he was going to be saddled with. The regulations and standards they obeyed and conditioning they went through wasn’t of any use to him.

“Master—” Kylo started again, but Snoke silenced him with a stab of pain in his head.

“You have your task,” Snoke said, steely. “General Hux will rendezvous with the Finalizer shortly. Go and meet him in the hangar.”

The projection disappeared, leaving Kylo alone in the communications room. He had a bad taste in his mouth already, and, despite his orders, was prepared to put this general in his place. It wouldn’t be something to ease him into, either; Kylo didn’t pull punches. This ship was his territory, and he meant to make that clear. Setting his mask over his face and hair, he swept out of the room, ship’s personnel scattering out of his way.

A few of the Finalizer’s officers were gathered in the hangar when Kylo arrived, and they shifted nervously as he stood to the left of their little gaggle. They whispered and tittered like the society matrons he had seen in his other life—the ones that his mother had tolerated but never liked. She was too practical, and they gossiped about her unladylike manner and how she brought a baby with her to Senate hearings and parties in a sling across her chest. At least that was until he grew into a toddler with a gift for the Force that frightened her to the point that she sent him away to her brother to teach him control. Uncle Luke had tried, and he had failed. Kylo’s new master understood his talents and let him use them. The whole First Order knew what he could do, and he had come to expect a certain fear from all of them. No doubt this new general would wither, too.

The shuttle landed only minutes later, and Kylo got his first look at his co-commander around the hissing jets of decompression. General Hux marched down the loading ramp alone and onto the hangar floor, the heels of his shined jackboots snapping across it. He wasn’t a small man, but a narrow one, and he was perfectly turned out in uniform and cap, which rested over bright red hair. He was young, Kylo realized—maybe around his own age, if not a little older.

The officers stood at attention as he approached, and he gave them a passing glance, but his attention came immediately to Kylo. He looked him over from boots to mask and frowned, saying curtly, “You’re the apprentice, then. I will comply with the Supreme Leader’s directive to work with you, but I have certain expectations. First—”

The imperious tone raised Kylo’s hackles. He wouldn’t be ordered around by this slip of a man, who was clearly trying to make himself look bigger by having an over-large greatcoat draped over his shoulders and hanging down to his ankles like a cloak. In the future, he would disdainfully mock what he called Kylo’s “ridiculous costume,” but he had one of his own, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Kylo snapped, cutting him off. “You have a duty, and so do I. Do it and don’t get in my way.”

Hux lifted his round, cleanly shaven chin and sniffed. “We should discuss our roles here. I don’t even know what to call you. The Supreme Leader told me that you are Kylo Ren, but do you have a title? After all, I expect to be addressed by mine at all times.”

Kylo was glad General Hux couldn’t see his dismissive expression; he didn’t want to waste time on unneeded formality. He replied curtly: “I don’t care what you call me.”

“Then I suppose ‘Ren’ will do,” Hux said as he tugged on his leather gloves, flexing his fingers inside them. “I will take the bridge now. Will you join me?”

Kylo didn’t answer him, only turning and stalking toward the lift. He would learn later that it was dangerous to turn his back on Hux—he was quick with the knife he kept in his sleeve—but Kylo didn’t know that then. They stood silently side-by-side in the small cabin of the lift, neither looking at the other, until they arrived at the bridge.

Kylo made to take a step forward, but Hux charged ahead of him, taking control right away and treading right over anything Kylo might have ordered. Kylo watched with a mix of anger and astonishment at how quickly he put all the techs and navigators to work. The commands rolled off his sharp tongue and within what seemed like seconds, the Finalizer had a course. Kylo almost missed that it was in the completely opposite direction than where he needed to be to recover some artifacts, as his master had commanded.

“Stop,” Kylo barked, and all the servicemen froze, turning wide eyes on him. “I have business in the Outer Rim. That’s where we’re going.”

Hux had come around to face him, somehow looking down his nose despite being an inch or two shorter than Kylo was.

“You have your own ship, do you not?” he asked in his crisp hold-over Imperial accent. “Take that to your destination. I require the Finalizer’s full arsenal for an offensive.” Risking the brunt of Kylo’s fury, he raised a ruddy eyebrow, almost mocking. “The Supreme Leader has priorities for this vessel.”

“My priorities are his,” Kylo growled. “Whatever you have can wait.”

He expected Hux to bow and concede, but the bastard held firm, still wearing that condescending expression. The Force tingled at the ends of Kylo’s fingers, ready at a moment’s notice to wrap its tendrils around Hux’s skinny neck and choke him into submission. That would give him something to think about.

“I’m afraid it cannot,” Hux said with chilly evenness. “The Supreme Leader gave me direct orders to take the Finalizer to the Inner Rim and lay siege to a planet in one of its systems. They have supplies we can use but have been unwilling to treat with us. It has come to force.” One side of his mouth curved up just a millimeter, but it was clearly another slight. “I’ve heard you’re quite familiar with force, Ren.”

Kylo’s gut burned with outrage. This little red weasel was taunting him, something that no one had dared do since Kylo and his knights had been loosed on the Order’s enemies. Everyone had seen the holo footage of what they could do; nobody crossed them. That was clear enough by the open terror on some of the techs’ faces as they watched Kylo and Hux, expecting the worst.

“He told you what to do,” Kylo said, though he didn’t add the sullen “and not me.”

Hux seemed to hear it, though, and his knife’s edge smile widened. “Yes, he did, and he expects us to do our duty. But of course you didn’t want to discuss that before. Shall we do it now, here?” He held his gloved hands open.

The point was easy enough to take: Do you want us to fight in front of all of these people? Hux was once again waving a red flag at him, daring him to act out. In the years to come, Kylo would discover that this was often something he did just for the satisfaction of watching Kylo struggle with his temper and, in the end, back off. This was the first time, Kylo hated to admit, that he got exactly what he wanted.

“Later,” Kylo said. Hux was about to speak, but Kylo turned away and left the bridge. He would take his command shuttle and the knights and do what needed to be done. Hux could be dealt with when they returned.

****

Dealing with him turned out to be the chore Kylo would have to do daily for the next three years. The iciness of their initial meeting had quickly thawed, but only to turn into outright conflict. The flimsy agreement that they wouldn’t fight in front of their subordinates splintered and soon they were arguing in places all around the ship—from conference rooms full of officers to passageways outside the bridge.

Kylo almost always snapped first, shouting through his mask at Hux, who just waited with his lips pursed sourly until Kylo had exhausted himself. Then he said something cold and pointedly cutting that made Kylo even more furious but at the same time like a teenager who couldn’t control himself, as he had been with his uncle once upon a time. It brought a shame that made him want to pummel something—most times Hux. But, it usually just ended the argument with Kylo stalking off to “sulk,” as Hux put it. Most times he stripped out of his robes and went to train until his body was screaming for rest.

Despite similar orders from the Supreme Leader, their missions continually clashed, and Hux’s upright, rule-bound way of running the ship had Kylo tied in resentful knots. He was so arrogant. He talked to Kylo as if he was simpleminded and without any sort of tactician’s sense. Kylo hadn’t been raised to command armies—as Hux loved to remind him—but he knew a battlefield and led his knights with lethal precision. But Hux derided and dismissed any suggestions he made for operations.

He drove Kylo to the breaking point so much that he appeared in Kylo’s dreams just to talk down to him again. In those dreams, though, Kylo overpowered him bodily, as he knew he could, and left him in a disheveled heap on the floor of the bridge while all the junior officers and navigators and comm techs looked on. Kylo wondered if the little lieutenant who managed Hux’s schedule and followed him like a nervous shadow would weep openly. Kylo grinned just thinking about it.

Hux knelt and kowtowed only to the Supreme Leader, which would have made Kylo laugh if Snoke didn’t seem to relish and encourage it. Hux spoke simperingly and openly pinned failures on Kylo like a tattling sibling. It was true that Kylo had been responsible for some operations that went wrong, but it was only because of Hux’s opposite tactics for his stormtroopers. If he had let Kylo take charge of the battalion and lead them, it would have been a success; but Hux didn’t let Kylo lead anyone but his knights. Every other trooper and officer and pilot onboard the Finalizer was Hux’s alone to command.

“He is an asset to the Order,” the Supreme Leader had said more than once, when Kylo’s restraint had broken and he had gone to Snoke with a complaint about Hux. “He has his uses and you yours, Kylo Ren. Together, you make us strong.”

But they never did anything together. Kylo took the knights when he needed them and fought when he had to, but Hux planned most of the large-scale offensive measures and extended their diplomatic hand to worlds that might supply and support the Order. Kylo didn’t mind avoiding the diplomacy—he didn’t have an ambassador's silver tongue—but Hux knew when to flatter and when to threaten, and almost always succeeded. Kylo hated to watch him win with a childish resentment, even if it was to the benefit of the Order.

When they could, they avoided each other, which they had been doing so far today, before they were summoned to an audience with the Supreme Leader. Hux started with his own reports, as he usually did.

“We’ll engage them in the necessary talks,” he was explaining to a stone-faced Snoke, “but we’ll be there in force in the event that negotiation isn’t enough. I propose bringing twenty troopers—”

Kylo barely listened to Hux’s schemes by this point and was letting his mind wander. His mask was firmly on his head, saving him from having to hide his boredom.

However, he snapped to attention when he heard Snoke cut Hux off: “No. No troopers. Take Ren and his knights.”

Kylo shot a glance at Hux, whose mouth was hanging open in shock—much to Kylo’s amusement—but then they were both protesting at the same time:

“Master, we have better things to be doing than acting as nannies—”

“Supreme Leader, surely if we mean to intimidate them, troopers would be better suited—”

Snoke held up a long-fingered hand, silencing them both. “You think there is something more intimidating than the Knights of Ren, General?”

Hux’s lips were pressed tight together now, a sign, Kylo had learned, that reflected his intense disapproval. If Kylo didn’t hate the prospect of tagging along on some treaty negotiation he didn’t need to be a part of, he might have laughed out loud at Hux’s discomfort. Hux always hated to have his clever little plans ruined, especially by Kylo.

“I don’t doubt their potential, Supreme Leader,” Hux said, “but I question their capability for a mission as delicate as this one.”

He fired an acidic look at Kylo, and Kylo took the usual pleasure in knowing that he could only see his own reflection in Kylo’s mask and not Kylo’s face. Hux regularly accused Kylo of being unwilling to look him in the eye—“as an honorable man would”—and, knowing it annoyed him, Kylo made a point of almost never being without the mask when Hux was around. And Hux played too dirty to be honorable, anyway. There was no point in pretending either of them had any sort of noble code they lived by.

“We can handle anything,” Kylo said, “but there are other places we could be, Master. We have relics to seek out in the Outer Rim, holocrons—”

Snoke sat forward with a glare. “Are you questioning me, my apprentice? Defying me?”

A probe of sharp pressure formed in Kylo’s head, and he flinched behind the mask. “No, Master,” he said, backpedaling. “I will always do what you command me to do.”

“Good,” Snoke said as he folded his hands in his lap. “You will travel with General Hux and his entourage to the planet’s surface and make sure the talks go smoothly. You can attest to and, if necessary, demonstrate the power the Order wields through you.”

Hux nearly choked as he rushed to speak. “Ren is a weapon, Supreme Leader, we should not reveal our hand in such a way.”

“I won’t do parlor tricks for some backwater warlord,” Kylo said. To Hux: “And I’m not just a weapon, either.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “Whatever you want to call yourself, Ren, you are not suited to this kind of mission. Supreme Leader, I implore you to rethink this.”

“Silence,” Snoke said, amplified voice booming. “You will both do as you are told. Get the treaties signed and the resources flowing into the pipeline as quickly as possible.” He blinked down at them. “Now go.”

When the transmission ended, the room was pitched into darkness. Tone clipped, Hux ordered the illuminators to eighty percent, and as the room brightened, he was already glowering at Kylo, gloved hands fisted at his sides. He always wore them, and his standard-issue officer’s cap. Kylo had seen him without either once in the years they had been on the Finalizer. It had been the time Kylo had bypassed the locks of Hux’s private quarters and stormed inside to continue an argument they had been having during a meeting earlier in the cycle. Kylo had been stewing with what he would say when he got Hux alone again. He had found him at his desk, looking shocked to see Kylo there. That was the one and only time Kylo was sure Hux had been afraid of him.

For the most part, Hux talked about Kylo’s abilities as if they were fancy magic tricks at best and useless wizardry at worst, but he also didn’t see Kylo and the knights in action. There were holos recorded, of course, but as far as Kylo knew, Hux never bothered to watch them. And Kylo would never let Hux watch him train. That one night cycle in Hux’s quarters, though, Kylo had been so angry that he had lifted some kind of metal decoration, bent it into a ball with the Force, and thrown it into the bulkhead, deeply denting the durasteel and shattering the fragile transparisteel table under it.

Hux had frozen, his usually cold green eyes wide with surprise and, if Kylo wasn’t wrong, fear. Kylo took a few seconds to appreciate that look and Hux’s obvious disquiet before turning on his heel and leaving the room in shambles for whatever droids could be found to clean up. He was positive the dent would remain in the bulkhead, and he sometimes still thought of whether it reminded Hux of him and what he was capable of when he looked at it.

In the communications room now, Hux stalked up to him and leveled a finger at his mask. “You had better not compromise this assignment, Ren. If I must take you and your band of sorcerers, I will, but you will do exactly as I say throughout the proceedings.”

Kylo slapped his hand away like an annoying insect and said, “You have no authority over me and the knights. We’ll go because we must, but if you try to give a single order to any of us, you’ll end up the one who’s compromised.”

Hux scoffed. “You’re a barbarian and I’m not frightened of you.”

“Are you so sure of that, General?” Kylo asked, using the extra inches of height he had on Hux to loom over him. He had no shadow to cast in the even light of the illuminators, but the effect was the same.

Hux’s fury was so overt that Kylo could see it in his expression, but he managed to keep his tone even as he replied, “Perfectly sure.” He took one measured step back, clasping his hands behind him at parade rest. “We depart at seventeen hundred hours from hangar four. Do not be late.” He left of the room, and Kylo, amused, watched him go.

The good humor faded, however, when it set in that he would have to gather the knights and actually go to whatever meeting this was going to be. He should have asked, but in the end, it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t be participating; he was there to look imposing and frighten the locals. This task was below him, but he would do it on the Supreme Leader’s orders, and because it would make Hux miserable.

****

The world they landed on was rustic and the compound they were brought to for their audience was ramshackle at best. Still, the natives had a direct line to beryllium mines that were crucial for the Order’s operations. Kylo walked at the head of the knights, but behind Hux. He hated that place, but he had his role here and would do as he was told.

At the head of a low-ceilinged hall, a squat tribal leader sat on a throne constructed of some kind of animal bones. The woman’s long hair was braided in thick cords, and maybe once she had been attractive, but now her face was wrinkled and her skin paper-thin. Her vivid blue eyes were bright, though, and took in the Order’s delegation with open suspicion. Hux—upright, shoulders back, chin high—stopped before her and greeted her in Basic.

Her reply was heavily accented and to-the-point: “I don’t care for you and your First Order, but you offer a great deal of weapons to subdue our enemies. And in exchange only for the ore we bring from the mountains. This is not a fair trade. What do you really want?”

“Only that, Your Excellency,” Hux said. “Our needs are simple, and we offer you the weapons in good faith.”

She snorted. “From what I know of you and your organization, General Hux, nothing is ever simple.” She turned her gaze to Kylo and knights, sucking her red-stained teeth. All of them were armed, the knights carrying some of their pike weapons openly. Kylo wore only his lightsaber at his waist. The leader said, “You come with warriors prepared for a fight. Do you plan to take what you want by force?”

Hux replied, to Kylo’s annoyance, “I brought these men only as my security. They go where I do.”

The leader gestured to the people around her—both men and women. They had appeared to be some kind of servants, but now they produced outdated blasters and blades. Kylo’s hand went immediately to his saber.

“I come prepared, too, General Hux,” she said icily. “So, we deal on even terms or we don’t deal at all.”

Hux held his ground, playing the diplomat. “Your Excellency, the Order is not trying to cause any trouble for you and your people. If you wish me to send my guards out, I will.”

Kylo stepped forward. “We won’t go.” He forced out: “We take your safety seriously, General.”

“Yes, of course,” said Hux, “but if Her Excellency requires it, we will do as she asks.”

“I don’t like this,” Kylo hissed, hoping he wouldn’t be heard from a distance. “Do you want to die today?”

Hux scowled at him. “I don’t care about your opinion, Ren. This is my operation. Keep your nose out of it.”

The leader tugged at her long chin, watching them carefully. “Send them out, then,” she said. “Save for that one. He can stay.”

“Do it,” Hux said to Kylo.

Kylo gestured for the knights to go. They went in silence; they had no doubt Kylo could handle himself, even against the score of fighters in the hall. He didn’t care for the odds, especially if he had to protect Hux in the mess of it, but it wasn’t unmanageable.

“There, Your Excellency,” said Hux. “Now, may we continue with our negotiations?”

She grinned and slowly shook her head. “The two of you will be staying here. The mines will remain ours, but we will get our weapons as ransom for you.”

Hux sighed heavily. “I will warn you only once that that is a terrible mistake. The might of the First Order is at the ready. We can level your compound in minutes and take your mines. Deal with us reasonably and it won’t come to that.”

“We won’t,” she said. With a flick of her hand, five of the warriors came forward, two holding binders.

“Can you handle this, Ren?” Hux asked, even as he reached into his greatcoat for his own sidearm.

“Easily,” Kylo replied. In one smooth, practiced motion, he grabbed for his saber and, with his left hand, pushed out with the Force and sent three of the warriors sprawling. The other two he cut down in two strokes of his blade.

“Force devilry!” the leader yowled. “Kill them! Kill them both!”

Kylo dove into action, lashing out with both the Force and his saber. The warriors charged him, but never got close enough to wound. Blaster bolts flew, some of which he managed to stop and turn on those who had fired them. Hux was quick and precise with his shots, catching enemies in the chest or head. The tribe’s leader cried out and stamped her feet as she watched her warriors fall. Kylo thought she would only wait until the battle was over, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw her draw a blaster and level it at Hux. Kylo lunged to stop the bolt, but it got past him and caught Hux under the chin. His weapon fell from his hands as he collapsed.

Kylo couldn’t go to him right away, trapped by the new wave of enemies, but when they were dead or thrown against the wall and knocked unconscious, he went to Hux’s side and knelt there. He was bleeding profusely from the neck, but his eyes were open as red frothed from his mouth. For a split second, Kylo’s instinct was to let to him go—let him die and be rid of him. There would be no lie to tell the Supreme Leader about this; he was killed in the line of duty. It would be so simple and neat.

Kylo thought he saw the realization cross Hux’s face then. Surely, he too had thought of getting rid of Kylo and taking the helm of the Finalizer himself. Understanding seemed to pass between them, and Hux blinked in wordless resignation. If this was it, he was ready to accept it. Kylo should have relished the victory, but instead he found himself pulling off his gloves and wrapping his hands around Hux’s neck to stanch the bleeding.

Through the comms in his helmet, he called for the knights and they came bursting through the door to put down the rest of the enemies and bind the leader. She spat and cursed them in her own language, but Kylo tuned it out. Hux was quickly fading, his face going white from blood loss. Kylo didn’t have either bandages or bacta, but he cut a long strip of fabric from his cowl and tied it tightly around Hux’s neck—not tightly enough to restrict his breathing. Lifting him by the shoulders and under his knees, Kylo carried him out of the compound and into their shuttle. The knights would deal with the situation planetside, and the pilots commed the Finalizer to send ground troopers as they took off with Hux lying on a cot and Kylo holding his neck. It was as if he might choke him, but instead—maybe foolishly—he kept him alive.

****

Medics were waiting when their shuttled docked, and they were quick to shove Kylo aside and see to Hux. One put pressure on the wound and two others carried him on a stretcher, presumably to the medbay. Kylo stood half in a daze after they had gone, his hands covered in drying blood and gloves long gone. The red had seeped into the hem of his cowl, too; he’d have to throw it away. Usually ruining his clothes just annoyed him, but now he felt as if Hux had marked him in some way. Kylo had never seen him in anything but perfect order and now the innermost part of him—his life's blood—stained Kylo in a way that seemed impossible to wash.

“Master Ren?” came a timid voice from down the loading ramp. Kylo saw Hux’s mousy lieutenant hovering there, pale and clutching a datapad to his chest. He asked, voice quavering, “Are you wounded?”

Kylo lowered his hands to his sides and replied, “No.” Coming down the ramp, he swept past the young man and made for the lift that would take him to his quarters, where he could shower and put on something that wasn’t sweat-damp and crusted with blood. The doors to the lift were just closing when the lieutenant slipped between them. “What do you think you’re doing?” Kylo asked sharply.

“I beg your pardon, sir—Master Ren, but we’re awaiting your orders.”

Kylo hated the stickiness of his fingers and had no patience for anything more than cleaning himself up. Still, he ground out: “My orders for what?”

The lieutenant—Kylo was sure he had heard his name before but didn’t remember it—swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You—ah, if General Hux is indisposed, then you are in command of the Finalizer. We can’t act until you direct us.”

Full control should have had Kylo humming with pleasure, but it came with irritation. He didn’t want to deal with the sniveling officers on the bridge until he had cleaned up. He couldn’t show up there covered in blood, anyway. “I’m going to my quarters to shower,” he said. “Tell them to stay in orbit around the planet and send the troopers I called for.”

“They’ve already landed, Master Ren, and subdued what locals the Knights of Ren couldn’t manage. We’re in control of the beryllium mines completely.”

“Good,” Kylo said. The knights wouldn’t be the best at holding prisoners and managing a crisis situation—other than a fight—so he continued: “Send someone to take care of the rest of it.”

The lieutenant blinked at him, seemingly lost. “What do you mean by that, Master Ren?”

Kylo snapped, “Don’t call me that. What do you call Hux?”

“‘Sir,’ of course. But you’re not a part of the military, Master—uh…”

“Just use that, then,” Kylo said, “or say nothing at all. I don’t care. Just send some officer planetside to...arrange things. And what is your name?”

“Dopheld Mitaka, sir,” he replied. Holding out his datapad, he began to type with one quick-fingered hand. “I’ll dispatch Captain Peavey to oversee the transfer of the mines to our control?”

Kylo waved a hand. “Fine. See it to that it goes smoothly.”

“Of course, sir,” Mitaka said, still typing. “And shall we stand the orbital cannons down?”

“Hux had the cannons trained on the complex we were in?” Kylo said, astounded. Those could easily have vaporized the entire compound and all the villages surrounding it with a few blasts.

Mitaka nodded. “Yes. He plans for all contingencies.” The little squirrel had the guts to sound sick with admiration. Kylo could barely contain his disgust.

“Yes, stand them down,” he said. “Make sure this Peavey takes any prisoners and whatever else is necessary.”

“And that is, sir?” Mitaka asked.

To be honest, Kylo didn’t have any idea how to occupy a planet. “Doesn’t the man think for himself?” he demanded. “Or does he do only the things Hux tells him, like a droid?”

Mitaka ducked his head and said, “Yes, he does, of course, sir. I’ll have him take charge and report back to you once everything is under control.” He scrolled up on his datapad. “Now, there are other matters to attend to—”

Kylo grunted in annoyance as the lift stopped at his residential deck. “Enough for now.”

“But, sir, these things are very urgent.”

The doors opened and Kylo stalked out into the passage. Mitaka, frustratingly, came trotting along beside him. “What, then?” Kylo said.

“Shall I start with the most recent messages or those that came in during your absence?”

Kylo never got messages as far as he knew. He had a standard-issue datapad, but it sat unused in a drawer in his similarly abandoned desk. “These came for me?” he asked.

Mitaka replied, “Oh, no, sir. These are for General Hux. But since he can’t answer them, they fall to you.”

They had arrived outside of Kylo’s quarters, where he permitted no one. He stopped there, looking down through the visor of his mask at Mitaka. “I’ll look at them, but give me half an hour. And...can you download them to my datapad?”

“No, sir,” Mitaka said. “They are encrypted and only accessible through General Hux’s personal terminal.” He wet his lips nervously. “You will have to address them from his quarters.”

Kylo didn’t have any desire to sit at Hux’s transparisteel desk and sort through whatever time-wasting messages he pretended to deal with on a daily basis. For all the strutting around the ship he did—self-important ass—he couldn’t have that much actual work to do. But, if he had to, Kylo would deal with it.

“Fine,” he said. “Go there and I’ll come in a half hour.”

“So long, sir?” Mitaka said. “General Hux performs his personal maintenance tasks in the morning in less than fifteen minutes. He says longer is an indulgent waste of time.”

Had Kylo’s face been bare and his hands clean, he would have rubbed one over his brow. He didn’t care about Hux’s habits and didn’t plan to change his just because he had to check some messages that would probably take a few minutes at most. “Yes, Lieutenant,” he said, dragging out the title as a threat. “One half-hour.”

“Understood, sir,” said Mitaka. Saluting smartly, he set off in the direction of Hux’s quarters.

Kylo unlocked the door of his own quarters with the Force and, going inside, went straight for the refresher. He left a trail of clothes behind him, stopping only to sit at the edge of his bed and take off his boots. He dropped them there and went to the shower, turning on the water setting rather than the sonic. Red swirled in circles down the drain as he soaped and rinsed his hands—one or two times more than was necessary. Even after that, he still felt dirty and invaded, as if Hux had taken a part of him and marked it for himself. Kylo shivered despite the heat of the water.

Clean and wet hair dripping down his shoulders and back, Kylo stopped to look at himself in the foggy mirror. He had a new breadth to him that had filled out in the past three years, since he had begun training with Snoke and the knights. When he had arrived aboard the Supremacy, he had been a skinny and long-limbed twenty-three. Now, at twenty-seven, he actually had the presence he should. And he was in sole command of the Finalizer. He had what he wanted, and this was his opportunity to prove to the Supreme Leader that he could do it by himself. Maybe Hux wouldn’t have to come back to work, and he could be sent away.

Kylo took his time getting dressed again, drying his hair before settling his mask over his head again, and he arrived at Hux’s quarters precisely one minute late—just because he could. Mitaka was inside, standing with his head bent over his datapad beside Hux’s desk. Kylo went to it and found the console already engaged. He expected to find a few messages, but the blinking warnings of extremely urgent correspondence were halfway down the screen. They all read: !!!Atten. Gen. Hux.

“You’ve received eight more messages since you retired to your quarters, sir,” Mitaka said, “all of them marked the highest priority. And Captain Peavey has sent word from the planet’s surface.”

“Is everything under control there?” Kylo asked, easing himself down into Hux’s unfamiliar and surprisingly comfortable chair.

“He reports that things are coming together,” Mitaka replied. “Shall I read you the report?”

“No,” said Kylo. “It can wait if everything is fine.” He reached out and tapped the first message in his inbox, and the text lit up the screen. There was something going on in hydroponics that required credits and equipment to repair. At least that was the general gist of it; Kylo had skimmed the lines. It seemed easy enough to deal with, so he told Mitaka to transfer the necessary credits to purchase the items they needed.

“From which budget line, sir?” Mitaka asked.

“What?” Kylo said.

“There are exactly one hundred and eleven different budget lines General Hux oversees and you will need to decide which one to transfer the funds from.”

Kylo tapped his fingers on the desktop. “Isn’t there one for food and...that?”

Mitaka pulled up a display on his datapad and offered it to Kylo to see. It was all jumbled numbers and characters. “This is the primary life support budget, sir.”

“Well, do we have the credits in it to give hydroponics what they need?”

Another few taps to the screen of the datapad. “We do, sir, but we’ll have to make a few changes to other functions to make sure we don’t go under General Hux’s baseline sum for this fund code.”

Kylo hesitated, but then asked, “What kind of changes?”

Mitaka rattled off a series of expenses for air filtration, food storage and purchasing externally, water processing, and a few other functions that Kylo had never thought about before. Already the pressure was building at the center of Kylo’s forehead—a painful headache he didn’t want or need. Budget lines and credits were things for an accountant to deal with, not the ranking general aboard. Why did Hux bother with this when there were other people who could deal with it? It was a huge waste of his time, and now Kylo’s.

“Who manages money aboard?” he asked. “There’s a name for that…”

“The ship’s purser, sir?” Mitaka replied.

Kylo pointed at him with his forefingers. “That’s the name. Doesn’t he take care of this?”

“She generally processes the transactions, sir, but the orders all come from General Hux. He insists on overseeing—”

“Well, she handles it now,” said Kylo. “Send her a message and tell her to rearrange the budget lines to make it work.”

Mitaka hurriedly began typing. “Yes, sir. Though, I think you should probably send a reply to hydroponics to let them know the status of their request.”

Kylo managed a grumbled, “Okay,” and tapped the button to compose a reply. His mother had, in another life, taught him the intricacies of cultured correspondence, but he hadn’t used any of that knowledge in years, and this wasn’t the appropriate place for courtesies and Core greetings. At a bit of a loss, he typed a terse “Credits will be transferred. Buy what you need.” He deliberated about whether he should sign it with his name, but decided against it and just sent it as it was.

The next message was about troop training, which Kylo was also unfamiliar with. Hux had designed the conditioning for the stormtroopers and Kylo had never bothered to learn much about it. He didn’t know where to start, so he decided to contact Captain Phasma and see if she could weigh in.

“Oh, that will delay the reply significantly, sir,” Mitaka warned.

“Then they’ll just have to wait,” said Kylo curtly. He moved on to the next message: something about supplies coming from the Inner Rim.

Feeling suddenly and unusually claustrophobic in his mask, he released the latches and lifted it off. Mitaka outright gasped at seeing his face; he, and most everyone else aboard the ship, never had. Kylo looked him in the eye, daring him to say something.

Mitaka held his breath, chest full, for a moment, and then said on an exhale, “Shall we continue, sir?”

Kylo turned to the message and tried to think of how to respond not only in coherent Basic, but in some manner of intelligent and knowledgeable way, when he was yet again at a complete loss. Steeling himself, he began to type.

****

He sent Mitaka out of the room after two more hours, after tiring of hearing his “Well, General Hux did it this way” commentary. Even after that, Kylo continued to work through troop movement correspondence from the captains, scout orders on various planets, intelligence reports from spies and informants, and numerous diplomatic requests—whether for audiences or for resources agreed upon in their accords. After four straight hours of it, his eyes were blurring and his head throbbed. Even as another message appeared, he had to get out of the chair and away from the console for at least a few minutes.

Hux quarters were built the same way Kylo’s were, so the layout was familiar, but the space felt foreign. Where Kylo’s rooms were nearly barren except for his bed and closet, there were touches of Hux all around his office and bedroom. There were no drawers in the simple transparisteel desk, but a nearby cabinet—mismatched antique wood—held several bottles of liquor. Kylo didn’t drink much, but he removed the stopper from a half-empty bottle of wine and sniffed it. It smelled sweet, like Hux’s breath sometimes did if they argued after gamma shift. Apparently, he had had a drink on those nights.

Kylo left the tinted glass tumblers in their places in the cabinet and went to the transparisteel table that stood under the section of bulkhead he had once dented. He had hoped the mark was still there, but it was long gone. The decorative metal sculpture hadn’t been replaced, though; there instead was an oblong “art” piece with swirling colors that seemed to move depending on the angle he looked at it from. It was useless, but Kylo figured it was something like the “conversation pieces” his mother had kept in their apartment on Chandrila.

Useless. He might have said the same about Hux earlier in the day, but after dealing with the massive and constant influx of messages, he was rethinking that assessment. In fact, he was a little embarrassed to admit, his own role was much more what he had thought of Hux’s: he trained with the knights, fought when he was needed, and otherwise stalked the passages of the ship looking important.

On the far wall, adjacent to the massive viewport that took up the space behind Hux’s desk, were a few framed medals. Kylo didn’t recognize all of them, but they were for meritorious service, he could guess. He had been given Hux’s personnel file when Hux came aboard, but he had never read it. It would be a sterile list of his accomplishments, anyway, which Kylo didn’t want to read about. This room actually told Kylo more about Hux than any record the First Order kept on him.

The office had little else to see, but Kylo went into the bedroom and glanced around. Hux’s bed was neatly made—likely by the same droids who made up Kylo’s every morning—and inside his wardrobe were identical uniforms hung without a single wrinkle. He had another pair of boots with plasteel forms holding them upright and stretched to contour to his calves. It was all very orderly, unlike the mess of clothing in Kylo’s own wardrobe. Kylo wasn’t completely uncaring about his appearance, but he had droids to take care of the laundry. Something about the way Hux’s clothes were organized suggested he did the work himself. How he found the time, Kylo couldn’t imagine anymore—unless he never slept.

It took Kylo a few seconds of studying the shelf above the bed to realize what was stacked there: books—physical books printed on flimsi and bound with string and glue. They must have been ancient, or at least expensive reproductions. He hadn’t seen a printed book since he had left his uncle’s school. Tentatively, Kylo took one from its place and ran his fingers over the hide cover—genuine, not synthetic. It was in good enough condition to read, which almost none of the Jedi texts had been. Ben Solo had once spent years of his life copying them into new bindings to preserve them.

With care, Kylo opened to the first page of the book and saw an inscription on the inside cover: From the library of Brendol Hux. Below it, in childish handwriting, was Armitage Hux. He had written this himself, once. Kylo had trouble picturing him as a boy. He had to have been all elbows and bones, skinny like he was now. And so, so red. He must have always stuck out. Ben had, too, but he had been big enough to fight anyone who mocked him. Hux probably wouldn’t have been. But somehow Kylo thought he would have gotten revenge on anyone who tried to bully him, even if it wasn’t physically.

The book was a history of Arkanis, a planet in the Unknown Regions that Kylo only knew of because the Imperial Academy had been there. Maybe that was Hux’s interest in it—or his father’s interest. Hux came from military stock, Kylo knew, but that was all he knew. He had no idea what Hux’s homeworld was or if his mother and father were alive or dead. Not that Kylo would share any of that about himself, either. Ben Solo was dead; only Kylo Ren, whose past began five years ago, was left.

Kylo was just flipping to the first page of the book when the door to the office whooshed open. Like a naughty child caught out, he snapped the book closed and slid it back into its place on the shelf. Hastily, he returned to the office. Mitaka, with a small tray in his hands, gave him a queer look.

“Are you all right, sir?” Mitaka asked.

“Yes,” Kylo replied, curt. He gestured to the tray. “What is that?”

“Caf,” said Mitaka, coming forward a step. “General Hux always takes his at 2300.”

Even from a distance, Kylo could smell strong, good-quality caf. He had been raised on tea and didn’t care for the darker caf, but at that moment, he needed something to perk him up. He met Mitaka at the center of the room and begrudgingly muttered, “Thank you.”

“Certainly, sir,” Mitaka said, surprisingly chipper for the late hour.

If Kylo had nothing to do after regular training, he was usually meditating or even asleep by this time. He took a sip of scalding caf, nearly choked, but got it down. Hux definitely had this specially bought and prepared for himself. The watery stuff in the officers’ mess was not this good. He drank a little more, while Mitaka stood there watching.

“Is there something else you wanted?” Kylo asked.

Mitaka tucked the tray under his arm, replying, “I have a status report from medbay, sir. General Hux’s condition is stable and he should be conscious by tomorrow.”

Kylo kept his voice even despite the relief: “Good. When can he return to duty?”

“Oh, not for some time, sir,” said Mitaka. “The medics say that the wound in his neck has compromised his vocal cords and that he won’t be able to speak until it’s healed. The surgeons repaired the damage, so he will get his voice back, but that may take some time.”

“How long?” Kylo said darkly.

“Around two weeks.”

The calm that had settled over Kylo during his exploration of Hux’s quarters evaporated and he nearly threw the half-empty mug of caf against the wall. He had his own training to see to; he couldn’t do everything that Hux apparently did every day, as unwilling as he was to admit it. His hands shook, so he set the mug down on the side table and pushed his hair back from his face.

“Is he totally unable to do anything until he recovers?” he asked.

Mitaka shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. You’ll have to talk to the medics. You can go down now, but perhaps it would be better to speak to General Hux yourself tomorrow. Though he can’t speak to you.”

Kylo had to take a little pleasure in that. Hux berated him with whip-crack ferocity at every chance he got, and he certainly loved his speeches to the troopers and officers. To be without that voice for weeks would certainly anger him. Kylo’s enjoyment was tempered, though, by the reality of what he would have to face in Hux’s absence. The messages were only the start. Mitaka had shown him Hux’s appointment feed, which was just as full as his inbox.

“Fine,” Kylo said. “I’ll go to him tomorrow when he’s awake.” He hesitated, but decided to ask, “How late does he work into the night, normally?”

“I can’t say for certain, sir,” Mitaka replied. “I’m not here after he takes his caf. But I should imagine at least until 0100.”

“And when does he wake?”

“0500, sir, every day.”

Kylo fisted his hands until the blunt, chewed nails bit into the skin of his palms. “Of course he does. You can go, then. I’ll take care of the rest of this tonight.”

Mitaka ducked his head. “Certainly, sir. Shall I come with your first cup of caf at 0520?”

“After my appointed fifteen minutes of personal maintenance time,” Kylo grumbled.

“That’s right, sir,” said Mitaka in that uncannily bright tone.

Kylo waved him off. “Do that.”

Mitaka saluted and left, and only a seconds after he had gone, Kylo realized he hadn’t told him to bring the caf to his quarters and not Hux’s. He had no intention of sleeping here; he craved his own bed and its sleek sheets. Cursing, he drank the rest of the caf in one gulp and sat back down at Hux’s desk. Already four new high-priority messages had arrived. Kylo groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Chapter Text

Kylo’s dreams were always vivid, even if they weren’t true Force visions; he had only heard about the ability, never experienced it himself. He was deep in a dream memory of his long hours spent writing in ancient calligraphy styles when a sharp buzzing sound from a distance jolted him awake. He jerked his head up from where he had lain: a hard plane of transparisteel smudged by the oils on his skin. And his cheek was wet with saliva; he had been sleeping like the dead and drooling all over the table. Desk. It was Hux’s desk. Looking blearily around, he recognized Hux’s quarters.

He barely remembered the last part of the night. He had been working on messages, replying until his eyes were crossed, but he didn’t recall falling asleep. Rubbing at his eyes, he blinked at the console screen. Already there were ten new urgent messages flashing at him. With a groan, he powered the screen down and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. His neck and back were stiff and he wanted a real bed and another few hours of sleep.

Instead, he got to his feet, vertebrae cracking, and shuffled to Hux’s ‘fresher to wash his face. The water was cold and bracing, turning his skin pink after Kylo splashed it up again and again. The ends of his hair were dampened, too, and clung to his jaw. His reflection was as haggard as he felt.

A “Good morning, sir” greeted him as he was leaving the ‘fresher, startling him enough to have him reaching out with the Force to defend himself. It was a gut reaction, but he backed down when he saw Mitaka just inside the doorway, carrying another tray, this one filled with a bowl and a plate of hydroponically grown fruit. Hopefully those credits Kylo transferred would keep that coming. There was also a piping hot cup of caf, which Kylo was more interested in than the rest of it. He took the tray and set it down on the desk.

Whatever gray paste was in the bowl looked less than appetizing and Kylo stuck a finger into it, tasting what turned out to be completely flavorless and a bit viscous. “What is this?” he asked, nose wrinkling.

“Porridge, sir,” Mitaka replied. “General Hux’s favorite. He says it’s very fortifying.” He smiled shyly. “I’ve started having it myself in the morning.”

Kylo pushed the bowl away and picked up a slice of fruit. At least that had a taste, even if it was too sweet. He chewed as he leaned against the desk, picking up his cup of caf in the other hand and sipping at it between bites of fruit.

Mitaka brandished his datapad and said, “Shall I go over your schedule for today, sir?”

Most days, Kylo began with training by himself, leaving his work with the knights until later. If they had a mission, they left whenever it was convenient for Kylo. He had no schedule—unless he had meetings with Hux or with the Supreme Leader.

“What’s on it?” Kylo said, grip tightening on his cup of caf.

“Well,” Mitaka began, “there’s an 0600 meeting with the upper troop command on deck eleven. After that is a 0700 holocall with Yershok Gamma’s governor. It should only take thirty minutes, though he does tend to ramble. You’re scheduled until 0745. The next meeting is with Captain Udril…”

It went on and on for at least five minutes, Mitaka describing a day so full of listening to reports and making inspections and revising plans for operations that Kylo didn’t think he’d even get a chance to eat or go to the ‘fresher. Hux apparently didn’t need to piss—ever—and his “fortifying” gruel was enough to get him through the day.

“But,” said Mitaka, “before your 0600, we’ll need to set a course for the ship.”

Kylo put his cup down slowly, the china ringing against the metal of the tray. “We’re still in orbit,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Captain Peavey has control of the mines and is prepared to turn them over to a more permanent overseer so that we can move on to our next post.”

“Do you know where that is?” Kylo asked.

Mitaka scrolled through his datapad but shook his head forlornly. “I don’t, sir. I’m sorry. General Hux never apprised me of it.”

“Fine,” Kylo said. “Then...we won’t leave today. At least not until Hux is awake. He’ll know what to do next.” The words tasted acrid, but they were true. Kylo was lost, and he wasn’t ready to turn to the Supreme Leader; he wasn’t going to cop to not being able to manage things with Hux in the medbay.

“He should be up soon,” said Mitaka. “I told the medics to comm me as soon as he was coherent enough to see me. I mean you, sir.”

Kylo stifled a laugh at the slip. “You really admire him, don’t you?” he said.

Mitaka nodded, head bobbing eagerly. “I do, sir. He’s a great administrator, but also a tactician. He does the work of five men, I’m sure of it. And he never looks the worse for it. It’s...well, amazing.”

“Is that what the other officers think, too?” Kylo said.

“Not all of them,” Mitaka replied. “There are some older officers who don’t approve of a young man being in charge of them.” He lowered his eyes, practically mumbling as he said, “And they think he’s pompous.”

Kylo chuckled. “They’re not the only ones.”

Mitaka peered up at him with big, searching eyes. “You don’t like him. You’ve never gotten along.”

“No,” said Kylo. “He’s difficult and stubborn and full of himself.”

“He’s said exactly the same thing about you, Master Ren,” Mitaka said meekly. “Almost to the word.”

Kylo knew he made trouble for Hux—sometimes just for the sake of watching him squirm—but this was the first time he had really heard what Hux thought of him. He never listened to scuttlebutt and had mainly focused on his problems with Hux, rather than considering Hux’s problems with him. Difficult: yes, Kylo could be that when he was in one of his rages. Stubborn: he got that from his mother. Full of himself: he was the strongest Force-sensitive in a generation and the chosen of the Supreme Leader; he had the right to hold himself high.

Hux was the same, too, but in all different ways. He seemed to want to counter Kylo’s orders just to spite him and he never relented when Kylo tried to introduce a new tactic to their offensives. And he was pompous, especially in his too-big greatcoat and tailor-made leather gloves. Kylo wondered if he had a budget line of his own for his wardrobe. He’d have to check, if only just to get rid of it. He could always rearrange things to send those credits to hydroponics—or sanitation.

“Cancel the 0600 meeting,” Kylo said, choosing to ignore Mitaka’s last comment. He could wonder about it later, after he’d trained and eaten some real food. “Move it.”

“But, sir, there’s no time in your schedule later on—”

Kylo waved a hand. “I’m not Hux; I have my own life to run. I’ll be gone an hour. Make it work.” Leaving the colorless gruel behind, he swept past Mitaka and returned to his own quarters to change into his training clothes and pick up his lightsaber. He was in the mood to destroy something today. He was reaching for the saber when he thought in passing about how much training dummies cost to replace.

“Kriff me,” he grumbled and left for the gym.

****

Kylo made it to the 0700 holocall, but just barely. The governor of Yershok Gamma had definitely been expecting Hux and was not pleased to have to deal with someone else. Kylo hadn’t had time to read over the dossier Mitaka had prepared on the First Order’s previous dealings with Yerkshok Gamma, and it left him to fumble for the right things to say to the governor. By the end of their appointed forty-five minutes, both of them were annoyed and very little had been resolved.

“When will General Hux return?” the governor asked through his droid interpreter.

“Undetermined,” Kylo replied sharply, his patience having long since run out. “If your business is that urgent, I can take it to him and...confer.”

The rotund little governor leveled him with a cold stare. “Do that, Master Ren,” he said, and then disconnected the call.

Kylo sat down in the nearest chair, letting his head—heavy in his mask—fall against the backrest. He lay his hands on his thighs and tried to control his rising temper. The governor had had no idea who he was or what respect he demanded; he had been treated like a third-rate Hux—maybe even less than that. And now he had promised to bring his failure to Hux. He was going to relish that, Kylo was sure, and the rest of the outstanding issues Kylo couldn’t manage to take care of.

“Sir,” said Mitaka from the back of the comm room, “you have five minutes to freshen up before your next meeting. There’s a refresher around the corner from here—”

“I know where the toilet is,” Kylo snapped. He wanted to waste his five minutes staring at the overhead out of sheer resentment, but he was in need of the ‘fresher and not even his sullenness could outweigh the needs of his body. Reluctantly, he rose from the chair and left the room, Mitaka on his heels. “Are you going to watch me in the ‘fresher, too?” he asked.

“Of course not, sir,” said Mitaka, falling back. “I’ll just be here.”

Kylo backtracked and softened his tone. “Make sure you take care of...you. You have to eat, sleep, and piss, too, I’m sure.”

Mitaka’s round cheeks colored, but he nodded. “I’m all right for now, sir.” A momentary hesitation and then: “Thank you, sir.”

Kylo took his allotted minutes in the ‘fresher, pausing to remove his mask and wipe the sweat from his forehead. He was used to wearing it when he was outside of training, but not for nearly every hour of the day. And people looked at him differently than they looked at Hux when he led their meetings. There was the familiar wariness, but they were frustrated, too, to speak to someone so featureless.

Kylo didn’t like the idea of going without the mask, and yet it seemed, as Hux had always said, the more honorable thing to do. Kylo had never been worried about what the officers thought of him, but now it irked him that they didn’t treat him with the same kind of deference they did Hux. He stood in front of the ‘fresher mirror and considered the features he had: a mix of his mother’s and father’s. He thought it would give him away, that everyone would see Ben Solo in him if he was barefaced. Few people knew where he had come from, though, and maybe it was time to let them look. Tucking his mask under his arm, he went back into the passage.

Mitaka was waiting for him and, unexpectedly, offered a small smile when he set eyes on Kylo’s face. “I’ve had to push your 0800 briefing back, sir,” he said. “General Hux is awake and I expect you’ll want to see him.”

The temptation to put the mask back on just for seeing Hux almost won out, but Kylo left it off. He said, “Let’s go.”

Kylo hadn’t been to the medbay in months; he wasn’t often wounded. When he and Mitaka arrived, a tall medic, her non-regulation long hair drawn back in a tail, greeted them. If she was shocked to see Kylo, she didn’t show it.

“Master Ren,” she said. “General Hux has been asking for you. If you’ll come with me…”

She led them through the main ward, with its many, mostly vacant beds for troopers and sick crewmen aboard ship, to a private room with the door firmly shut. The medic had to scan an identity passcard to get in.

“You keep him under lock and key?” Kylo asked.

“Standard procedure for ranking officers,” the medic replied. “On the general’s orders, in fact.”

Kylo shouldn’t have been surprised. “Right,” he muttered.

As the door slid open, he saw the sickbed inside, the lumps of two feet sticking up under a white knit blanket at the end of the bed. Hux was tucked tightly under it, up to his waist where he sat up. Kylo was taken aback at seeing him so reduced and, well, informal. He wore a pale blue medical gown instead of his severe uniform and his usually slicked-down hair was untreated and flopped loosely over his brow. There was a thick, white bandage taped across his throat. When he noticed Kylo appraising his appearance, he scowled, as if daring him to say something. That, at least, was ordinary.

“Master Ren, sir,” said the medic, “as you ordered.” She turned to Kylo: “He can’t speak for the moment. His vocal cords were severely damaged by the blaster shot. We’ve repaired them surgically, but they need time to heal before he can recover his voice.” She gestured to the datapad resting in Hux’s lap, giving him a stern look. “You can type, sir. You gave me your word you wouldn’t try to say anything.” He inclined his head in silent agreement and she gave a brusque nod. “I’ll leave you, then.”

The door shut behind her, leaving Kylo, Hux, and Mitaka in the little room to stare at each other. It was Mitaka who spoke first: “You’re looking well, sir. Are you in much pain?”

Hux pursed his lips, clearly struggling with being unable to reply, but then shook his head, pointing to the bag of intravenous fluids he was receiving. Kylo assumed it was full of powerful painkillers. They didn’t seem to affect Hux’s awareness, though; he was as bright and critical as ever.

“That’s good to hear, sir,” Mitaka continued. He seemed about to say something else, but Hux’s attention was laser-focused on Kylo, expectant.

Kylo set his mask down on a nearby chair. “I talked with the governor of Yershok Gamma a few minutes ago. He’s demanding we give him more aid. I, uh, didn’t give it right now. He seemed like he was asking too much.”

Hux didn’t appear offended, so Kylo guessed that he had done right. Turning to the datapad, Hux began to type in quick, efficient presses of his narrow fingers. When he was finished he held it up for Kylo to see. Mitaka leaned in close, coming far too near to Kylo. He tolerated it for the moment.

The little bastard is trying to extort us, Hux had written. He thinks his shipping routes are far more valuable than they are. They are a direct route through the upper quadrant of the Unknown Regions, but we can skirt them if we must. It will take just a bit more effort.

“I’ll tell him that?” Kylo said.

Hux nodded.

Kylo would send a message when he had some free time. It would probably ruffle the governor’s feathers—and he literally had them—to get a terse note rather than another holocall. After the way he had spoken to Kylo earlier, Kylo would be more than happy to put him in his place.

They stood quietly for a few seconds, Kylo unsure how to proceed, but he glanced down at Hux’s datapad. “Can you check your messages from that?”

Hux typed: No. It’s not connected to my encrypted network. The medics won’t allow me to “overwork myself” while I’m recovering. He raised a red eyebrow, returning to the keyboard to keep writing. Did you look at them?

“Yes,” said Kylo. “I took care of most of them last night. I haven’t seen the ones from this morning yet.”

Mitaka said, “Most of the critical problems have been seen to, sir. And I’m sure Master Ren will keep up with them while you’re here.”

Hux’s glance at Kylo was pointed and dubious.

The first thing that came to mind was to defensively say “I’m doing my best,” but it smacked of the uncertainty Kylo had no intention of showing. Instead, he settled on: “It’s easy enough.”

Hux’s disbelief only intensified and Kylo forced himself not to shrink under the glare. Hux crooked his finger at Mitaka, holding his hand out for his datapad. Mitaka handed it over immediately.

“What are you doing?” Kylo asked.

Hux typed: Making sure you’re not destroying everything. You haven’t the first idea how to manage this ship, no matter what lies you tell me.

Kylo could read the condescension and almost hear it in Hux’s words. He bristled. “You don’t know anything about what I’m capable of. And things will have to change under my command.”

Hux’s green eyes went wide and then narrowed. He typed furiously on his datapad. We still share command while I’m alive. I may be stuck here for the next two weeks, but the Finalizer is still half mine.

“Two weeks?” Kylo exclaimed before he could stop himself. The satisfied grin Hux wore made him want to slap it off of his face. He continued: “It’s no problem. I can take care of it all.”

Hux didn’t bother to acknowledge him, instead beginning to scroll through Mitaka’s datapad and, Kylo guessed, read over the messages Kylo had sent the night before. The line between his brows only deepened as he got further into it. Kylo kept from shifting his weight like a nervous child as he waited and watched.

A few minutes later, Hux shoved the datapad back at Mitaka and picked up his own. He typed to the lieutenant (though Kylo could read it, too): Schedule two hours for him to come here during gamma shift. He needs supervision.

“Damned if I do!” Kylo snarled.

Hux held up a hand, fingers splayed, to shut him up. Despite himself, Kylo didn’t say anything more.

I will go crazy in this place if I don’t get to do something, Hux wrote. You’ve not made a complete mess of my work, but I have no doubt you will muck up the more delicate things if you’re given leeway. Do this for both our sakes, Ren, and for the sake of the Order.

Kylo calmed some, regarding Hux mistrustfully, but then he conceded. “Fine. I’ll give you your two hours, but that’s it. Everything else is under my charge.”

Hux held out his right hand—an agreement—and Kylo shook it.

Come back tonight at 2100, he typed.

“Sir, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Mitaka asked. “To rest?” Hux eyed him sidelong and Mitaka ducked his head. “Of course, sir. As you order. I’ll bring Master Ren at 2100.”

Hux shook his head, pointing to Kylo. He waved his other hand at Mitaka.

“Oh,” said the lieutenant. “You want him to come alone.” A nod. “Yes, sir.”

Kylo was rarely on his own with Hux, even when they argued. He hadn’t been since that night in his quarters, and he was strangely apprehensive. If anything, it would be awkward to sit and wait for Hux to type while he himself could speak. He didn’t miss Hux’s deriding voice, but it was off-putting to have him stripped of it. He was defined by his voice in a way; he was a different man—maybe a more patient one—when he was mute.

Settling back in his bed, Hux waved a dismissing hand. Kylo said nothing, only stormed out of the room and back into the main ward. He passed the medic and the others in the medbay without seeing them. Outside, he stopped to breathe. Only when Mitaka ventured to ask him if they should go to his next meeting did Kylo realize that he had left his mask on the chair in Hux’s sickroom. It would take less than a minute to retrieve it, but he didn’t bother; he would come for it when he returned after gamma shift that night.

****

Kylo spent the rest of the day in the meetings Mitaka had assigned him, and by the end of it was desperate to spend some fraction of time alone. How Hux could be surrounded by people every hour of the cycle, Kylo couldn’t fathom. And he had been made to sit through a lunch in the officers’ mess, when he usually took his meals in his quarters. He was so closely watched by so many that he could barely eat anything. In the end, he took his half-finished food to the wash station, dumped it, and left.

He used the remaining twenty minutes of the hour to go through more messages. Mitaka had gotten the encryption permissions on Kylo’s own datapad so that he could access the inbox remotely—mostly because he couldn’t bring Hux’s console from his quarters to the medbay.

2100 was swiftly approaching as Kylo stopped by his quarters to change out of his more habitual robes and cowl and into a simple pair of black trousers and a tunic. He pulled his hair up into a half-tail and, rubbing at his tired eyes, made for Hux’s room again.

The night medic was on duty, and he made sure to scold Kylo in the way only medical staff could that Hux should not be kept up any later than the appointed two hours. Kylo agreed; after all, he wasn’t inclined to spend more time with him than was necessary.

Hux was as wide awake now as he had been in the morning, his position in bed and datapad in his lap unchanged. He surveyed Kylo’s uncovered face and clothes cooly before gesturing to the chair where Kylo’s mask still sat. Hux gave him an inquisitive look.

“I’d had enough of it today,” Kylo said, picking it up and setting it on the floor. “I...don’t think I’ll wear it as much, for now.”

Hux shrugged one shoulder and indicated for Kylo to pull the chair closer. Kylo set it beside the bed and sat, setting his datapad on his thighs. Hux was already typing on his, and moments later, a message alert popped up on Kylo’s screen.

I wouldn’t have believed a day ago that you might have seen sense and thrown off that foolish thing, but surprises happen every day.

Kylo gnashed his teeth, glaring at Hux, who smiled in that cutting way of his. “Let’s just get to work,” he growled.

Hux typed: Tell me what you did today.

“I’m not just giving you a report like one of your lackeys,” said Kylo. “I don’t answer to you.”

Hux rolled his eyes, sending another message: You don’t, but I don’t know what you’ve already seen to and what we still need to do. Just tell me and save us both some time. Start with where we are. Did we rendezvous with the shipping convoy?

Kylo pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, stalling. “We’re still in orbit around the mining planet. There was nothing in your messages about a rendezvous.”

Hux’s face screwed up in displeasure. Dammit, Ren. If we missed that convoy, we won’t have new air scrubber supplies, which we sorely need. Life support doesn’t maintain itself. Who did you put in charge planetside?

“Peavey.”

Another pained expression. Get him back here as soon as possible. Put Lanor on it.

Kylo opened his messages and began to type out the order. Hux’s questions came rapid-fire while he was composing the message: What is the situation in hydroponics? How did the governor reply to you? Have Phasma’s troops been inspected? Is the new navigation data packet uploaded?

Kylo replied as quickly as he could: “Hydroponics has the credits. They can buy the supplies next time we’re in a port of call. The governor was short with me, but he agreed to our terms. I haven’t heard anything about Phasma’s troops. Am I supposed to inspect them regularly? Mitaka said something about navigation charts, but I didn’t have time to read the brief.”

Of course, you’re supposed to inspect the troops, Hux wrote. I go weekly. And the charts came from the Supremacy’s databanks. Our systems need to be synced with theirs. Don’t ask Mitaka; he doesn’t know anything about it. Talk to Navigator Berren.

“Berren,” Kylo muttered, making a note on his own datapad. “I’ll talk to Phasma about the inspections, too. I can go tomorrow if I have to.”

Hux nodded, typing: What messages have come today?

Rather than explaining, Kylo handed over his datapad and took Hux’s in return. He waited idly while Hux read over some of the messages. His expression stayed mostly impassive, though occasionally he frowned. With a sigh some minutes later, he held the datapad back out.

I have a few corrections, he wrote. Take these notes, will you?

He ratted off a series of terse instructions and Kylo dashed them down, hoping he caught it all. It was startling how keen a memory Hux had for even the smallest details of the message chains Kylo had barely had time to read. By the time he was finished, it was 2215.

“What else?” Kylo asked, finally willing to admit—but not aloud—that Hux had a far better handle on any of this than he did.

Hux rubbed his chin and down to the bandage on his throat, wincing as he brushed his fingers over it.

Kylo looked at the mostly empty bag hanging beside the bed; the tube from it was connected to Hux’s right arm, where the skin around the needle was bruised green and yellow. “Do you need me to get a medic?” Kylo said.

Hux looked almost ashamed, but he gave a small nod.

Going out into the main ward, Kylo found a nurse and asked him for more painkillers. The young man brought the night medic, who had a fresh bag of fluids to attach to the tube of Hux’s IV. The effect must have been quick because Hux relaxed and closed his eyes. When the medic had gone, he took his datapad again and typed slowly.

When the message alert appeared on Kylo’s datapad, it read: Why did you do it?

Kylo asked, “The medicine?”

Hux gave him dry look and then pointed at his neck.

“Oh,” Kylo said. “Why I saved you.” Hux nodded, and Kylo rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t exactly sure he was ready to or could explain it. “Dying on the floor of some primitive hut isn’t...right,” he said lamely.

He got a huff in return, and Hux picked up his datapad. I would have thought it would be just the kind of death you wanted for me. Ignominious.

Kylo wet his lips before he spoke. “You thought I wanted you dead?”

This time Hux actually grinned. He typed: Of course, you do. I’m in your way, am I not? Death would be easiest.

“Do you want that for me?” Kylo asked.

Hux didn’t reply immediately, instead blinking thoughtfully at him. He wrote after a few moments: No. Despite your ill temper and recalcitrant nature, you are very useful to the Order. Given the choice, I would have you under my command, but I don’t want you dead.

Kylo tamped down the irritation at considering taking Hux’s orders and said, “Thank you, I guess.”

Hux once again rolled his eyes, making Kylo’s “ill” temper flare. He knew exactly how to get to him, even wordlessly.

Whatever your reasons, Hux typed, I’m grateful for what you did.

“You thanking me,” Kylo scoffed. “Never thought I’d hear that. Er, so to speak.” He winced. “I mean…”

Hux smiled, nostrils flaring in silent laughter, and Kylo found himself chuckling, too. He couldn’t think of any time before that they had actually shared a joke. It was unexpectedly friendly and that struck Kylo with its oddness. He had been sure that Hux only laughed at his expense, which, he thought, this was.

“Anyway,” Kylo said. “Should we get back to work?”

To his surprise, Hux shook his head. Like a game of charades, he leaned his cheek into his hand and closed his eyes: he was tired.

“I’ll go, then,” said Kylo. He stooped down to retrieve his mask. “Same time tomorrow?” When Hux inclined his head in assent, Kylo left him to sleep.

In his own quarters, he set the mask onto its stand and went to the ‘fresher. He considered Hux as he brushed his teeth, unable to get past the genuine smile he had worn. It brightened his otherwise severe face to the point that Kylo almost didn’t recognize him. He seemed younger, lighter, and it somehow made Kylo want to see more of it.

Hux had been a source of unending frustration for three years, and his pushiness when it came to the business Kylo was supposed to be managing by himself was still difficult to cope with; but Kylo thought, for the first time, that maybe there were better qualities he pushed down and hid, just like Kylo did. They both projected an image that suited their roles in the Order and that was all they knew of each other. Maybe it was time for both of them to seek out what lay beneath.

****

Captain Lanor went planetside at the beginning of the next cycle, and Peavey returned to the Finalizer. He was curt with Kylo as he gave his report, ending it with an inquiry into Hux’s health.

“He’s fine,” Kylo replied. “Recovering.”

Peavey scowled, his jowls hanging low. “I’m sure you must agree, Master Ren, that a change of regime is in order. Hux has been leading the First Order down the wrong paths for too long. Under your leadership and...that of a more seasoned officer, we would correct those missteps.”

Kylo eyed him. “You mean yourself, of course.”

“I served the Empire well, sir,” he said, chin lifted, “and I have done the same for the Order. I am confident in my abilities; they far surpass Hux’s.”

“Do they?” Kylo asked, steely. “I’m not looking for a replacement for him. This is my ship and you will remain in your current position.”

Peavey’s expression darkened, but he said, “Yes, Master Ren,” and turned to leave the room.

Kylo didn’t care for his ladder-climbing, especially when he sounded so entitled to Hux’s position. Maybe if the Supreme Leader saw fit to relieve Hux of duty, Peavey might make a decent replacement, but Kylo already didn’t like him; and he wasn’t about to co-command with someone he hated—again.

The shipping convoy they had been meant to meet had disclosed their new location and the Finalizer was already in transit. While Kylo was drinking a cup of caf—his third that day—in his ten-minute break between meetings, Mitaka asked what the bridge staff would be doing while they were in transit.

“Aren’t they just supposed to be piloting the ship?” Kylo asked as he cradled the warm mug between his bare hands. Like his mask, he had been leaving his gloves off, too.

“Well, sir,” Mitaka replied, “one or two can monitor the equipment, but the rest are usually given a task.”

Kylo barely held in a long-suffering sigh. Of course, Hux would never let anyone rest. “What kind of task?”

“A drill, sir. Maybe combat maneuvers or a chase simulation.”

“This is a battleship,” said Kylo, “not an interceptor. We can’t chase anything.” He blinked over his mug. “Can we?”

Mitaka’s initial fear of him had faded some, and Kylo thought he was actually suppressing a pleased little smile. “We have certain capabilities for interception, but I was thinking more about a offensive simulation today. You’ve never seen the ship in full action. At least I don’t think you have.” The smile appeared in earnest. “It’s very impressive, sir.”

Kylo gave in. “All right. When do I have time to see this?”

“1400 hours, sir,” Mitaka said, without even looking at his datapad. Kylo had learned he too had a remarkable memory for the day-to-day details of Hux’s—his—schedule.

“We’ll go the bridge then,” Kylo said. He took a sip of caf before asking, “Why is it that you’re still a lieutenant? You’re young but experienced enough for a promotion.”

Mitaka’s face colored. “I’ve actually turned down a promotion twice, sir. I know I should be a major by now, but...I like my work.”

Kylo cocked an eyebrow. “You like Hux.”

“I...um,” Mitaka stuttered, cheeks burning an even deeper red. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then?” Kylo asked, sitting back in his chair, rather enjoying Mitaka’s discomfort.

“I admire him—platonically,” Mitaka said quickly. “He’s excellent at his job and is only ten years older than I am. That’s unprecedented in the Order. And he might be a commandant’s son, but he fought hard for what he has, and he’s better than anyone else at it.”

Kylo set his caf down, curious. “His father was a commandant? Of what?”

Mitaka seemed perplexed. “You never read General Hux’s file?”

“I have other things to do with my time,” Kylo said tersely. “Just tell me what you know.”

“Brendol Hux,” Mitaka began, “is his father’s name. He was the commandant of Arkanis Academy during the reign of the Empire. General Hux is his...illegitimate son.”

Kylo reared back in surprise. “Legitimacy is still a problem on his homeworld? Where does he come from?”

On Chandrila and most other Core worlds, whether or not a child was born outside of wedlock made no difference to anyone. In fact, many parents married long after their children were born, if they married at all. Leia Organa, for one, had never taken any vows, but nobody had looked sideways at her son.

“Arkanis,” Mitaka replied. “Where his father was—”

“Commandant, yes,” said Kylo. “I should have known. But his father took him in anyway and didn’t leave him with the mother?”

“I don’t know the details, sir,” Mitaka said sheepishly, as if it was something to be sorry for. “All I know is that they were evacuated together after the Siege of Arkanis and joined the early First Order not long after. General Hux grew up in the military.”

“And it shows,” Kylo grumbled.

Mitaka’s well-groomed eyebrows knit. “You think that’s a bad thing, sir?”

Kylo knew, now, that it had shaped Hux into the kind of uptight man he was, but it did also translate to him being a capable general, and administrator. “It doesn’t have to be,” Kylo said, “but he drives me mad sometimes with his schedules and drills and perfectly pressed uniforms.”

“You are very different, sir,” Mitaka said. “But that’s not always a bad thing. You could, if you tried, complement each other.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Kylo asked, sharp. “I’ve been trying to get him to hear my strategies for three years!”

Mitaka chewed his cheek. “That’s not really trying, sir, if I may say so. You’re attempting to make him do what you want, not work with him.”

Kylo scoffed. “And what do you think he’s doing? He wants me to be a spearhead for his offensives, but that’s all. He doesn’t think I can make my own decisions about battles. It’s infuriating.”

“Well,” said Mitaka, “he’s also very determined to do things his way. I wasn’t necessarily suggesting that it’s only you who isn’t willing to work together.”

That was one of the only admissions Kylo had ever heard him make that Hux wasn’t perfect. Kylo was quite pleased with that, though Mitaka had also taken a shot at him. Days ago, Kylo might have grabbed him around the neck with the Force, or thrown him back, but Mitaka didn’t deserve it; he was being honest, which Kylo would rather have than kowtowing.

Mitaka continued, a little quieter, “But you’re working together now—every night when you go the medbay. You both work on the messages; I’ve seen the replies. Some are General Hux’s, some are yours.”

Kylo couldn’t deny that, nor could he deny that it was effective. They got more done in those two hours than Kylo could do alone, and with Hux’s guidance, Kylo was getting better and better at managing the affairs on the Finalizer. Hux had even accepted delegating some tasks to others to take some of the burden off of himself—off of them.

The previous night, Kylo had asked him, “Do you seriously not trust anyone to do their jobs? They were trained in the same place you were, probably by the same people. But you won’t let them work without managing them.”

Hux had glowered down at his datapad, typing quickly: It’s my responsibility to oversee the business of this vessel. How can I do that if I don’t have a hand in things?

“You can check in every now and then,” Kylo had said. “Get reports. Almost anything else than making everyone sit on their hands while you do twenty people’s work.”

It could be done wrong, Hux had written, and Kylo had almost heard the petulance.

“Yeah, maybe,” Kylo had admitted, “but you can deal with the fallout when it happens. Trust your staff, will you?” He had paused, rubbing his thumbs against the edges of his datapad, fidgeting. “Trust me.”

Hux had turned to him with an intent gaze, studying him as if to pick him apart. No wonder his subordinates cowered at times. He had looked away only to type: Give me a reason to trust you and maybe I will.

To Mitaka in the small conference room now, Kylo said, “Yeah, we’re doing it together, but I don’t know that it will last. After he’s got his voice back, it’ll probably go back to just how it was: he’ll want to order me around and I’ll want to strangle him.”

Mitaka lifted one small shoulder and let it fall again. “There’s still time to learn to cooperate, sir.”

Kylo wasn’t in the mood to dwell on it, so he drained his caf and stood. “Let’s just get to the bridge for this drill.”

When they came through the doors onto the command deck, all the techs and officers jumped to their feet and saluted. In the viewport, the stars were rushing by as the ship traveled through hyperspace, but Kylo focused on to the unfamiliar faces around the terminals. Many of the staff were young, like Mitaka, and the bars on their uniforms denoted their low ranks. Kylo had been on the bridge uncounted times before, but he didn’t recognize any of them or know their names or what they did in the running of the ship. He felt a bit awkward in the face of that fact.

Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re going to run an offensive drill while we’re in transit. I’ll be...watching.”

One of the meek techs spoke up: “Which drill, Master Ren?”

He floundered, but managed to say, “Is there a planetary blockade drill?”

The young woman nodded eagerly. “There is, sir. Shall we do that one?”

“Yes,” said Kylo. “That will serve.”

Immediately, the techs went into action, preparing whatever it was they did here for the simulation. Mitaka spoke so only Kylo could hear: “You engage the drill, sir. It’s from the main console.”

Kylo went to the center of the floor, where a small podium rose, a screen atop it. He scrolled through some of the options, ignoring the expectant looks of the techs while he struggled to find the appropriate command to start the simulation. Finally, he came to it and hurriedly engaged it. The viewport’s display of the starscape faded into a projection of a fictional planet with a major orbital defence ring the Finalizer would have to break to get a landing force onto the surface.

“Approaching defences,” said one of the techs from his place in front of a console. “Arsenal is thirty-four plasma cannons and a field of mines inside the perimeter. How do you want to proceed, Master Ren?”

Kylo turned to Mitaka and hissed, “I’m supposed to participate in this?”

“Of course, sir,” Mitaka replied. “You’re in command.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kylo tried to find something to say. Despite his big talk of being able to coordinate a battle, he was used to being on the ground with the knights. This was something else altogether.

“Aim our battery at the cannons,” he said after far too long. “Ah, deploy TIE-fighters and target them, too.”

Tension suffused the room, but the tech said, “Yes, sir,” and started typing on his keyboard.

In the viewport, Kylo watched as the Finalizer began to fire blasts of green plasma at the ring of defenses around the planet. Right away, the “defenders” began firing back. The bolts hit the ship’s shield, but that wouldn’t hold forever. TIE-fighters began to pour out of the hangars and flit across the sky, starting to fire at the cannons. The effect wasn’t terribly impressive; their armaments were too small to really make any dents. Kylo fisted his hands, afraid he had just made a terrible mistake. If they failed this simulation because of his bad orders, word would get to Hux and Kylo would never live it down.

“Deploy the heavy fighters,” he said over the chatter of the techs between themselves as they coordinated the guns.

The command was given and bigger ships appeared in the viewport. Their weapons were better suited for attacking cannons and they managed to destroy several, allowing the TIE-fighters inside the perimeter to clear the mines. They suffered losses, of course, but that was to be expected—at least Kylo thought so. Hux always talked about minimizing losses, and Kylo was afraid he was not doing as well at that as Hux would.

The simulation continued for a five or so minutes without Kylo having to give another order. The techs were capable and thought for themselves throughout the “battle” to get weapons offline and clear a path to the planet. Soon enough, there was an avenue for troops to get through and hopefully disable the command center for the defenses. Another five minutes and the enemy cannons lowered.

“Well done,” Kylo said as the viewport cleared and the drill ended. “Final report?”

“We lost fifty-seven TIE-fighters and eighteen heavy fighters,” a tech said. “Our shields are at thirty percent and four of our guns are destroyed. The repair costs will be—”

“Yes, I understand,” Kylo said, cutting her off. “Is that part of the drill?”

“No, sir. We’re finished.”

He clasped his hands behind his back—an eerie echo of Hux’s usual pose—and said, “Your work is appreciated. You can go back to your tasks.”

They all saluted as he left the bridge. He deflated as soon as he got out into the passage. To Mitaka: “How badly did I do?”

“Pretty badly, sir,” Mitaka replied.

Kylo leaned back against the bulkhead, head thrown back. “Kriff. Hux is going to hear about this and laugh for weeks.”

Mitaka gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, sir. But if you do it again, I’m sure you’ll get better.”

“Right,” Kylo sighed. “What else do we have to do today?”

Brandishing his datapad, Mitaka began to list the afternoon’s meetings. Kylo listened attentively, but he wanted nothing more than to hit something until he felt like he was capable of anything. But instead he followed Mitaka to deck 12, where the next meeting was.

****

The Lyriss trade deal needs to be resolved by tomorrow, Hux typed later that night, when Kylo was sitting at his bedside again, working. I expect a full report of the conversation when you’re finished.

Kylo bristled. “I’m not just here to give you reports,” he said, the usual protest.

Hux shot him a cold glare and threw up his hands before going back to his datapad. Fine, Ren. Call it whatever you want, but I need to know what happened. This is very important to the Supreme Leader’s operations on the Supremacy. Manufacturing has to go on.

“Okay,” Kylo said. “I’ll have Mitaka take notes.” He moved on to the next message. “What are we supposed to do about the oxygen scrubbers? The installation isn’t going as planned.”

I don’t know, Hux typed with an expression that conveyed his sarcasm. Why don’t you ask the team you put in charge of the operation instead of letting me take care of it?

“You mean have me take care of it,” Kylo snapped. “I’m not doing work that other people are qualified to deal with, Hux. You have to let some things go.”

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Kylo scowled at him and waited for whatever snide reply he would get through his datapad. However, when Hux went back to typing, the annoyance had gone.

You’re not wrong, he wrote. It can get exhausting to, as you said, “do twenty people’s work.” It’s just difficult to relinquish control. It’s always been a failing of mine.

Kylo, astonished, lifted his eyebrows. “The great General Hux has failings?”

Hux pursed his lips, clearly not pleased with the mocking response.

Backing down, Kylo said, “I understand.” He sat back in his chair, considering Hux in his reduced state: still in white hospital clothes and covered with a knit blanket, hair ungelled. “Have you always been like that? You’ve been in the military since you were a child.”

Hux surveyed Kylo in kind, but then began to type. My father instilled the quality in me, he wrote. He ruled over Arkanis Academy with an iron fist. Everything that happened there went through him. The man may have been a nightmare, but he was good at his job. I was determined to be the same.

“But one school isn’t a star destroyer with thousands of souls aboard,” said Kylo. “You can’t honestly think you could do what he did on this scale.”

Perhaps not, but it’s a hard thing to eschew. When I was in charge of smaller ships and only the Stormtrooper Program, it was easier and less taxing.

Kylo saw then that his hollow cheeks had filled out and that the dark circles under his eyes had faded some. He looked better than Kylo had ever seen him, despite the bandages. He had been resting more in the medbay, and it showed. “You were tired,” Kylo said. “Mitaka said you barely sleep.”

That traitor, Hux wrote, almost making Kylo laugh. I don’t always rest much, but I’m conditioned to that. You, on the other hand, seem to sleep a great deal.

“I did before,” Kylo said, “but now I’m surviving on caf and frustration.”

Hux grinned toothily. Yes, I’d imagine so.

They fell silent for a moment, just looking at each other. Kylo didn’t have any particular ability to read people, and Hux was harder than most to decode; Kylo had no idea what he was thinking.

“Do you remember Arkanis?” Kylo asked suddenly, thinking back to what Mitaka had told him earlier in the day. “You had to have left there when you were very young.”

Hux looked as if he was about to refuse to tell Kylo anything, but he turned to the datapad. He wrote: Barely anything. The New Republic attacked the planet when I was five years old. I have some spotty recollections of gray and rainy days in a solarium of some kind, but otherwise my memories are of the nurseries on ships. I lived there full time. My father came to visit, but I never once saw his quarters.

“You didn’t know him well?” Kylo said.

Well enough to hate him, Hux wrote. He disdained me because of my origins and thought I would amount to nothing in the Order’s army. How I’ve proved him wrong.

Kylo leaned onto his knees, nodding. “Guess that’s true. Is he still alive?”

Hux shook his head with a macabre smile. No. I took care of that a long time ago.

“You killed him?” Kylo hadn’t always gotten along with his parents, either, but he had only in passing imagined murdering them. Of course, he had become a murderer five years ago at Luke’s school; he couldn’t throw stones.

I arranged for him to have an accident, Hux typed. He wasn’t missed. His time was long over. He blinked at Kylo. At least he’s not trying to bring down the Order, like your mother.

Kylo ground his teeth. He hated talking about Leia, unless it was how to destroy her Resistance. “I left that life behind,” he snarled. “Don’t bring it up.”

Hux inclined his head. Very well. But, if you must know, I admire what you did. You threw off the mantle of the Jedi to learn from the Supreme Leader. You may be insufferable at times, Ren, but you’re impressive in what you can do, how you can serve.

Kylo huffed. “It’s all about service for you, isn’t it? Don’t you think about yourself?”

Of course, I do, Hux wrote. I have high ambitions, but I do not plan on discussing them with you.

“Fine,” Kylo said. Still, Hux had already told him a great deal more than he had expected when he asked about Arkanis. He wasn’t a forthcoming man, at least not that Kylo had ever seen. But maybe he was just like that with him; Kylo had never shared anything personal about himself, either.

His attention went back to his datapad as a new message flashed there. Do you ever think about anyone but yourself, Ren?

All of the goodwill Kylo that had crept into their conversation faded. “Kriff off, Hux,” he said before he could stop himself.

I didn’t think so was the reply.

Getting swiftly to his feet, Kylo tucked his datapad under his arm. “We’re done for now,” he growled. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He nearly collided with the medic, who had likely been coming to shoo him out anyway. The woman said something to him, but he ignored her, storming out of the medbay and into the lift that would take him to his quarters—no, Hux’s quarters. He still had work to do tonight.

There, Kylo stripped off his tunic, feeling far too hot in the long sleeves, and threw it onto the bed with a few other shirts and pairs of trousers, underwear and socks. His spare pair of boots was on the floor at the foot of the bed. Seeing it all, he stopped. It had been too much of a hassle to keep going back and forth to his own quarters to get clothes, so he had brought some here to have on hand. The droids had taken the dirty ones and, he realized with a kind of horror, brought them back to this room washed.

Collapsing shirtless into Hux’s desk chair, Kylo rubbed his temples. He had all but moved into Hux’s quarters, and he had been spending more time in them that he ever had in his own. It was an invasion of Hux’s space that should have put him off, but he was strangely comfortable in the office and adjoining bedroom.

Despite what he had said about maintaining his own habits, he had been adopting Hux’s without questioning it. He didn’t want to manage everyone’s business like Hux did, but he was working himself to the bone and, somehow, he didn’t completely hate it. The drill today had been a mess, but he decided he would study combat tactics and run it again. In fact, he would do that now.

He pulled a manual up on Hux’s console and, pouring himself a drink from Hux’s cabinet, sat down to read. By the time Hux was well again, Kylo would be putting him to shame. For a few minutes tonight he had thought they might actually do as Mitaka had said and complement each other, but Hux’s last barb had been enough to squash that idea. Cursing him as he always did, Kylo started the first chapter of the manual and drank sullenly until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Then he crawled into Hux’s bed and slept.

Chapter Text

Kylo didn’t recognize where he was when he woke groggily at 0500 the next day to the shrill alarm. He sat up and peered around until he could identify that he was in Hux’s quarters, Hux’s bed. Coming awake in earnest, he threw back the covers and rolled to the edge of the bed, where he sat leaning his elbows on his knees. He was sure that today would hold another onslaught of meetings and messages that would leave him bone-tired and irritated. He really needed to get to the gym to work out some of his stress; he’d arrange it with Mitaka when he arrived in a few minutes. Reluctantly, Kylo stretched and walked in his undershorts to the refresher to wash his face.

When he came out—dressed—Mitaka was waiting with an actually palatable breakfast: sausages and buttered toast and eggs, even if they were synthetically produced. There was caf, too, which Kylo went for right away.

“Good morning, sir,” said Mitaka, with his datapad already out. “Today’s schedule?”

“I need some free time,” Kylo said around a mouthful of toast. “In the mornings, I have to go to the gym. At some point in the afternoon I need to train with my knights. I can’t let those things slip.”

Mitaka chewed his cheek, tapping away at the datapad. “That can be arranged, sir. I’ll push back your first commitments for this morning. Is an hour enough for your gym time?”

“It’ll do,” Kylo replied. Some days he spent several hours with the weights, but he could give some of that time up if he had to. “And the afternoon?”

“You have a strategic planning meeting with the captains from the other destroyers, but I’ll tell them it will have to wait...two hours?”

Kylo nodded, pleased but not surprised at Mitaka’s intuition. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“It’s my job, sir,” he said, holding his chin high. “Shall I go over the rest of your appointments, then?”

“Yes.”

Kylo felt infinitely better after working his body out and showering an hour later. He met Mitaka outside the gym facilities at 0700 on the dot and they went together to one of the conference rooms for a holocall. 0800 brought his first troop inspection, which led him down to the training decks adjacent to the troopers’ barracks. Five full units were already waiting when he arrived, and Captain Phasma was standing there to greet him—without her helmet.

“Master Ren,” she said, saluting. “My troopers are prepared for you.”

Kylo glanced at the rows of perfectly attentive, white-armored soldiers. “Ah, what exactly am I looking for, Captain?”

She cocked her head, white-blond hair so perfectly styled it didn’t move with the gesture. “You aren’t aware of protocol?”

A mix of embarrassment and anger slithered under Kylo’s skin. He hated that Hux had scolded him for not doing the inspections but hadn’t told him what was expected of him during the process. He should have asked.

“Yes,” he lied. “I just haven’t done this in a while.”

“I wasn’t aware that you had ever done it at all, sir,” said Phasma. Kylo thought he picked up a hint of mocking wryness in her tone and frowned. She continued: “General Hux has been performing inspections for the quality of the troopers since he took over the program nine years ago.”

Kylo said, “Nine years? I thought it was older than that.”

“It is,” she replied. “His father started it and ran it for many years before General Hux was ranked highly enough to assume his position.” A dark, knowing glint came into her blue eyes. “Brendol Hux died quite unexpectedly.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kylo muttered. He turned to face the faceless troopers. “Well, I’ll just look them over, then.”

Phasma’s lips twitched as if she was suppressing a sarcastic smile. “Certainly, sir. If you have any questions, I’m here to answer them.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but said nothing else to her as he approached the first line of troopers. They might have been eyeing him curiously as he passed among them, but as far as he could see, they kept their helmeted heads facing forward. Kylo had no idea what he was looking for, but he did his best to give the impression of deep consideration. He fought to think of any questions to ask Phasma, and yet could find none. He felt hapless and foolish, pointedly aware of how Phasma was watching him struggle. After fifteen painful minutes of silence, he gave up.

“Things look to be in order, Captain,” he said. “You can return to your...business.”

She was no longer totally concealing her enjoyment of his plight, and Kylo was actively willing himself not to duck his head or flush like the fumbling child he seemed to be. “As you command, Master Ren. Will you be inspecting Captain Aurelia’s unit tomorrow?”

“I, ah, no,” Kylo said, defeated. “Maybe in a few days. I’m very busy.” He went to Mitaka’s side. “We need to go, don’t we, Lieutenant?”

“Actually, sir, we have forty-five more—”

“You’re mistaken,” Kylo was quick to say. “We need to go now.”

Mitaka regarded him with a baffled expression but nodded. “Of course, sir.”

Kylo swept past Phasma, making a hasty escape from the training facilities. He didn’t stop until he was in the safety of an officers’ refresher, where he hid in one of the stalls and leaned his head and hands against the durasteel door. He wanted to put his fist through it, but held back, reining in his temper. He would have to inspect the troops again eventually, and he’d have to ask Hux exactly what that meant, too. Tonight he’d just have to face it. He sighed, breath fogging on the durasteel.

“Are you unwell, sir?” Mitaka asked when he came back out, a little more put together.

“No,” Kylo replied. “Just...no. I’m fine. What’s next?”

Mitaka read from his schedule. “Well, sir, there’s an issue from the correspondence you’ve sent to the Snake mercenaries. They were not paid as much as they expected and they’re now attacking First Order ships.”

Kylo cursed. “I paid them as much as Hux said I should.”

“Yes, unfortunately they decided that dealing with someone else meant a higher fee.”

Kylo considered negotiating for a moment—it’s probably what Hux would have done—but he didn’t work that way. He would intimidate them into doing what the Order wanted. “Don’t bother contacting them,” he told Mitaka. “I’ll send the knights for them.”

Mitaka’s eyes widened. “All right, sir. As you say.”

Comming them, Kylo ordered them out to coordinates Mitaka supplied of the last known location of the mercenary leader. They accepted Kylo’s command and agreed that they would set out immediately.

“I guess that leaves my schedule open during the two hours you set aside for training,” he said to Mitaka. He offered the hint of a smile. “Tell the captains I can talk to them after all.”

****

That evening, he returned to the medbay and Hux. Hux was still taking a fairly heavy dose of painkillers and when Kylo came in was drinking some kind of pink liquid through a straw. As soon as he saw Kylo, he spat out the straw and set the plastic cup down on his bedside table—a feeble attempt at hiding it.

“What is that?” Kylo asked as he pulled his chair close and sat.

My evening snack, Hux typed in reply. The medics are keeping me on a liquid diet to “spare my throat.” It’s insufferable. You should taste the vile stuff.

“Hand it over,” said Kylo. Hux sucked his teeth, considering, but then picked up the cup and pushed it into Kylo’s outstretched hand. Kylo moved the straw so he could take a sip from the side of the cup. The concoction was a mix of fruit flavor and chalk; Kylo nearly gagged. “Stars, that’s awful.”

Hux nodded, taking the cup back and setting it aside. Imagine that four times a day. And despite the fact that it’s liquid, they won’t let me have any caf. If I weren’t being pumped full of pain medication, I can’t imagine the headaches I would have.

“I think I’m starting to understand the appeal of the stuff,” Kylo admitted. “Mitaka keeps a steady flow of it coming all day. Your doing, I guess.”

With a silent chuckle—a kind of shrug combined with a smile—Hux wrote: I trained him well.

Kylo found himself smiling, too. “You did. He’s good at what he does. And he said he’s turned down promotions to stay with you. That’s impressive loyalty.”

I recommended him for those promotions myself, Hux told him, loath as I would be to lose him. But he declined. He comes to see me here every few days.

“When?” Kylo asked. “He’s almost always with me.”

Hux replied, He makes time.

Kylo rubbed his thighs, impressed. “You know, I thought he was interested in you, you know, romantically.”

This time Hux made a snorting sound, and winced because of it. He wouldn’t dare. He thinks highly of me, I know, but he would be far too frightened to actually fancy me.

Kylo wrinkled his nose. “Do you do that on purpose? Scare everyone to the point that they wouldn’t ever consider you as a partner?”

Hux raised a brow, but then typed: Isn’t that what you do, too? You’ve never had a romantic attachment in the years we’ve been serving together.

“Don’t turn this on me to avoid the question,” Kylo countered, leveling a finger at Hux.

Fine, Hux wrote, making a displeased face. I’m not looking for a “partner” among my subordinates. There is no one on this ship who doesn’t answer to me, even if indirectly, and I will not dally with any of them.

By habit alone, Kylo said, “I don’t answer to you.” The moment it left his tongue, both of them froze, processing what that actually implied. Hurriedly, Kylo tried to play it off: “Not like we’d ever..I’d ever…”

A message flashed on his datapad screen: That would be unacceptable.

“Yeah, it would,” Kylo said, too loud and too fast. “And you hate me, so…” Hux shot him an incredulous look and Kylo couldn’t help but ask, a little more quietly, “You do, don’t you?”

The reply came slowly, with Hux picking out the words seemingly with care. No, Ren, I don’t hate you. You’re difficult, I won’t deny that, but your abilities are, if anything, equal to mine.

Kylo huffed a half-laugh. “I’m so strong with the Force that not even Luke Skywalker could control me. You’re saying that’s equal to you?”

Hux scowled as he typed: I am the youngest and brightest general the First Order has ever known. I’ve achieved more than any of the other officers have in half the time. We are both extraordinary, Ren, and suited to our roles.

“You mean as co-commanders?” Kylo asked stiffly.

Yes.

Shifting in his bed, Hux, for once, didn’t do everything in his power to look domineering. He actually appeared to accept his place there and settle back into the pillows. Kylo cast his gaze over him differently than he had before, focusing on the features he had generally ignored. He saw the high cheekbones and soft but well-shaped chin. Hux’s eyes, usually hard and full of judgment for what he thought was Kylo’s latest failure, were a dark green. His eyelashes were as red as the hair on his head and made him look a little delicate.

His fingers were long and slender, the knuckles barely visible—unlike Kylo’s, which were prominent and large. Kylo likely could have closed his whole hand around Hux’s and squeezed it until the bones groaned. But he didn’t want to hurt him; he wanted in that moment to take one of his hands and measure the size against his own—gently but with intent. The tenderness of the thought took him by surprise.

Strangely, it was like Hux could see it pass across his face, and he blinked once at him, inquisitive. Kylo was compelled to look away, but held Hux’s gaze instead. To his even greater surprise, he saw color rise in Hux’s cheeks and then Hux glanced away first. Puzzled, Kylo watched him turn back to his datapad.

It’s better that you leave your bucket of a helmet off now, Hux wrote. People can actually look you in the eye.

Kylo couldn’t help the flare of annoyance, but replied, “It’s all right without.” He sat forward and teased: “You appreciating the view, too?”

Hux turned his eyes down, face going red from light pink. You don’t have a unpleasant appearance, he wrote, almost hesitantly.

“Is that so?” Kylo said. He could hear his father’s sly voice in his own. Han Solo had handled men, women, and everything in between very deftly. He had tried to impress the same skills upon his son, but Kylo hadn’t been as good at it. He took too much after Luke sometimes, and Luke would never be described as suave.

Hux pressed his lips into a thin, disapproving line; he didn’t like being pestered as Kylo was doing. Kylo, however, thought it was too funny to quit.

“What else isn’t unpleasant about me, Hux?” he asked.

Hux’s hands curled into fists briefly before he went to his datapad. Very little, he typed.

Kylo laughed aloud, hearty and earnest. “Glad to know you think so highly of me.”

A laugh? Hux wrote in reply. I never thought I’d see the day. To be honest, I don’t know that I recognize you like this.

“Like what?” said Kylo.

Civil, Hux replied. Actually working at something else than your Force wizardry navel-gazing.

Kylo narrowed his eyes at him. “Watch yourself,” he warned.

Hux was nonplussed. You may be new to all of this that you’re doing now, but you’re not doing too poorly. Save for the blockade simulation yesterday.

This time it was Kylo’s turn to flush. “Go ahead, tell me how much of an idiot I am.”

Despite the temptation to do so, Hux wrote, I’ll restrain myself. My first simulation went equally badly. Although I was ten when I ran it.

“Kriff off,” Kylo grumbled.

He got another silent laugh in return. I’m trying to say that it’s not the end of the world, Ren. You’ll get better if you keep doing it.

Kylo nodded. He was about to mention the manuals he was reading, but he didn’t bother. “I have a question for you,” he said instead. At Hux’s gesture to continue, he did: “What exactly am I supposed to do in a troop inspection? Phasma and every trooper in her unit watched me fail at it this morning.”

Hux covered a smile with his hand. He typed: It will take a little telling. Bear with me while I write this out, will you?

He ended up writing a small essay on the history to the Stormtrooper Program and what his role was in it. Kylo hadn’t known anything about it, so he read it carefully. Hux outlined what he did during inspections and what he expected of the troopers. Kylo realized he had done a very poor job today—very, very poor. He tried not to cringe.

“All right,” he said when Hux was finished. “I’ll take care of another unit in a couple of days. Uh, thanks for telling me.”

You’re welcome, Hux wrote. If I can’t do the inspections myself, I’d rather have you do them correctly. Make it up to Phasma, too. Give me your datapad and I’ll arrange another meeting with her and her unit.

Kylo held it fast. “I’ll contact her. This is my screw up; I have to fix it.”

Hux inclined his head. That’s big of you, Ren. You keep confounding me.

“‘Confounding?’” Kylo asked.

Perhaps I mean “surprising.” You’re taking to this. I didn’t expect that.

A bubble of pride rose up in Kylo’s chest. “I guess I am,” he said. He exchanged an oddly warm look with Hux before Hux demanded his datapad again, this time to answer the messages they needed to get to. Kylo handed it over and Hux typed and Kylo talked while they worked.

****

The next two days passed similarly—with Kylo running from one end of the ship to another with Mitaka on his heels. He made the poor inspection up to Phasma, did one for another unit, and finally got to the navigation charts from Berren to sync with the Supremacy. Kylo oversaw the transfer of materials from another shipping convoy and the captain who led the convoy stopped to comment on General Hux’s absence.

“He’ll be back soon enough,” Kylo said.

The captain seemed satisfied enough with that and returned to his ship with his pockets lined with First Order credits. Kylo had made sure to check with the purser about the budget line the funds would come from. He had turned most of the accounting over to her—which Hux should have done in the first place—but she did send him a daily report that he could look over before he slept.

And he was still sleeping very little. His workouts in the mornings were more difficult and the knights were beginning to complain that he hadn’t been training with them as often as he should. They had returned from their mission threatening mercenaries full of energy and they were craving more action, which frustrated them. Keeping six Force-sensitives cooped up for too long usually led to destroyed consoles and harassed crew members.

Kylo had been both entertained and abashed when he had discovered that Hux had put a whole budget line in for fixing the things he and the knights destroyed aboard the Finalizer. It easily could have fallen under the maintenance budget, but Hux had a very wide petty streak sometimes. Just in case Kylo ever looked at the budgets, he would see his line: just a little reminder of how much of a thorn he was in Hux’s side.

During their meetings at night, though, they didn’t argue. They disagreed, as Hux put it, but there were no raised voices and no accusatory finger-pointing. Kylo didn’t threaten to use the Force to put Hux in his place. They actually got a great deal done, and Kylo was begrudgingly grateful for Hux’s expertise. Hux knew he was needed and likely thrived on that, and yet he never lorded it over Kylo, as Kylo might have expected he would. They didn’t have camaraderie, but they behaved themselves for the sake of the work.

Of all things, Kylo had remembered just before their meeting that evening that Hux had been craving and been denied caf. It might have interfered with something medically, but Kylo didn’t think that was the case. It was too generous, maybe, but also a kind of gesture of undue goodwill; he had asked Mitaka for a container of the stuff to take with him to the medbay.

“Something that will keep it hot,” he had said. “And, ah, can be keep discreet.”

Mitaka had raised his eyebrows, but had just gone to do it. Ten minutes later, he reappeared with a metal cylinder warm to the touch and small enough to be concealed in the folds of Kylo’s robes. Kylo thanked him and tucked it away before leaving Hux’s quarters.

Hux greeted him with the usual nod when he walked in and the door hissed closed behind him. Hux’s half-drunk cup of pink sludge was sitting on the bedside table, Kylo saw. Approaching the bed, he said, “You have to keep this quiet, but here.” He pulled the cylinder out and offered it.

With clear suspicion, Hux took it and looked it over.

“Just open it,” Kylo said.

As soon as the scent of caf wafted up from the seal he broke, he shot Kylo the most elated look Kylo had ever seen. Kylo couldn’t help but laugh.

“Thought you might like that,” he said. “Here, I’ll pour for you.”

The top of the cylinder doubled as a cup, so Kylo had Hux hold it while he poured piping-hot caf up to the brim. Hux inhaled the steam with his eyes closed and then drank. The pleasure and relief was visible.

Kylo let him enjoy it for a minute or two while he pulled his chair over and opened his messages on his datapad. He idly scrolled through them until an alert from Hux arrived.

Thank you very much, Ren, it read. This is the best thing I’ve tasted in days.

“You’re welcome,” Kylo said, pleased that the gift had gone over so well. When he looked up at Hux, Hux was smiling with genuine warmth. Kylo smiled crookedly back, but told Hux, “We should get to work.”

Hux held out both hands: one with the cup still in it and the other for Kylo’s datapad to look over the day’s messages. Kylo reached for both at the same time, exchanging one for the other. The cup was filled again, which Hux had to have done. Hux gave him a look and flicked his fingers toward him: Have some.

Kylo took a sip of the caf, finding it rich and bold as it brought him more alert. “I’m getting dependent,” he grumbled.

Hux gave him his silent laugh along with a half-shrug, and Kylo couldn’t do anything but let it roll off his shoulders, either. There were worse vices.

They dove into the work then, sharing the caf between them while Hux made notes for Kylo to use the following day. It wasn’t often that they got off track from their business, and the teasing Kylo had done a few nights ago about himself and Hux’s apparent appreciation for seeing his face never came up again, but Hux caught him unawares some hour and a few minutes later by asking him: What was it like to be born into Republic privilege, Ren?

Kylo stared down at the message on his datapad, uncertain how the reply. He had done his best to forget Ben Solo and the life he had led before coming to the First Order, and his instinct was to tell Hux to leave it and insist they go back to work; but he didn’t.

“It wasn’t ‘privilege’ to me,” he said. “It was the only thing I knew back then. As far as I was concerned, every little boy in the galaxy lived in apartments on the two hundredth floor above the city. The costumes of the senators and their assistants and everyone else weren’t as ridiculous as I think they are now. It was regular life to me.”

Hux regarded him steadily for a few moments before typing: I can imagine you wanted for nothing.

Kylo said, “Toys and clothes and favorite foods, no. But I don’t think I talked to anyone but my nanny droid from the time I could walk to when I left for school at five.”

A lonely child, then, Hux wrote. I’m familiar with that.

“You are?” asked Kylo.

Hux nodded once. After a few seconds of watching him type, Kylo read: I may have been surrounded by other children in the nursery and then during my education and training, but I can’t honestly say I made any friends amongst them. I wanted to excel, and I did, and most of them hated me for it.

“I understand that, too,” Kylo said lowly. “You know I’m strong with the Force—more than anyone in my generation. When you’re too good, you make enemies, not friends.”

He got another solemn nod. But you have certainly retained some of your Core flair for the dramatic.

Kylo raised an eyebrow.

You say you think the senators’ clothes are ridiculous, but you wear robes like some kind of monk or knight from a bygone age. I’ve always wondered...do you design them yourself?

“No,” Kylo grumbled, embarrassed when he knew he shouldn’t have been. “I just buy them when I’m in a port and I need something new.”

I can’t imagine you in uniform, Hux wrote, a little smile twisting his lips.

“Neither can I,” said Kylo. “But…” He trailed off, not wanting to say more after the conversation he had had with Mitaka earlier in the day.

“In two days, sir,” Mitaka had said in that too-chipper cadance, “you have the officers’ promotion dinner. Four of the lieutenants have been promoted and since General Hux cannot attend, you’ll be expected to offer the toast in their honor.”

Kylo had nearly spat out the meat he was chewing. It was lunch, which he had been taking in Hux’s quarters. When he had swallowed, he said, “Toast? No, I don’t do that.”

Mitaka’s air had turned glum. “But, sir, it’s a very special day for the officers and not having a honorary toast would be bad luck. It’s an old Imperial tradition from their navy. The commanding officer always gives a kind of blessing to his new officers.”

“I’m not their commander,” Kylo had said.

“But you are, sir,” Mitaka had told him. “You’re the commander of the Finalizer.”

Kylo had rubbed his face. “What do they expect me to say?”

Ever helpful, Mitaka had tapped away at his datapad and a few seconds later, Kylo’s lit up with a new message. “I’ve sent you the transcripts of General Hux’s toasts for the last three years. He’s given exactly eleven. They’ll be a good reference, I’m sure.”

“Oh, yes,” Kylo had said flatly. “Such a good reference.”

Still, he had read them all, finding them overly formal and full of that high-handed language and tone Hux always affected—even in his messages in their nightly meetings. Still, he was remarkably eloquent and complimentary to each of the officers who had been moving up the ranks.

“Does he really know all of them this well?” Kylo had asked Mitaka before the lieutenant had retired for the night.

Mitaka had chuckled. “No, sir. He speaks to their direct superiors beforehand. I assume you’ll want to do that, too.”

“I guess I’ll have to,” Kylo had said.

In the medbay now, Hux was looking at Kylo with expectation, waiting for him to continue. Reluctant though he was, Kylo said, “But a uniform is being made for me. Mitaka told me that I have to wear one to the officers’ promotion dinner in two days.”

Hux’s eyes opened wide, his lips parted, but then he transitioned to a his silent laugh. Kylo scowled at him, letting him have his fun. Eventually, he typed: What exactly do you plan on saying for the toast?

Kylo had intended to write something up in the morning, hopefully using Hux’s toasts as a guide but not copying them word-for-word. And he had had Mitaka arrange short meetings with the supervisors to get some background on the men being promoted—and women; there were two women advancing.

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” he said to Hux.

Hux went right to his datapad. You don’t strike me as an orator, Ren. So, no.

Kylo had his doubts, too, but he crossly snapped, “I can, and I will.” He ground his teeth, adding, “I may not be the mouthpiece of the Order, like you, but I can string a toast together.”

Write it and bring it to me, Hux wrote. I can help you finesse it.

“No,” Kylo said. “I don’t need you to hold my hand, Hux. I’m in charge of the ship and I can do one karking toast, all right?”

Hux raised both his open hands in concession and Kylo made a haughty hmph sound. They stewed in silence for a time before Kylo found himself thinking back to their conversation before Hux had derailed it with his comment about Kylo’s clothes.

“Have you ever been to the Core?” he asked.

Hux lowered his hands back to his datapad. No. I’ve never been past the Outer Rim. The First Order is not really welcome in the Core. How did you expect me to have gotten there?

Kylo said, “I don’t know. Maybe you went on leave once, in disguise.”

Hux snorted.

“It’s worth seeing one time in your life,” Kylo continued. “It’s not like any other part of the galaxy. It’s half Old Republic and half new. People are quick to go back to their old ways, but the shadow of the Empire didn’t burn off in day. There’s less excess than there used to be, or so I’ve heard.”

The present is less excessive than the past? Hux wrote. Stars, I cannot even imagine the resources those Republicans wasted in their time.

“Arkanis is rich, now,” said Kylo. “It’s one of the gems of the New Republic. They’re Centrist in politics, if I remember right.”

Hux wrinkled his nose is distaste. Yes, and I’m ashamed to have come from there. Fortunately, I’ve not seen it since its fall.

Kylo shook his head. “You think wealth and resources and stable politics is fallen?”

The New Republic is disorder incarnate. They indulge in useless pleasures and fripperies that would never have been allowed under the Emperor.

“I don’t think that’s completely true,” Kylo countered. “The Empire wasn’t poor or austere; they just invested more credits in their navy than the Republic did. People outside of the military still dressed in rich clothes and ate good food and danced—or whatever else you think people shouldn’t be doing. Do you not believe in fun, Hux?”

Hux glared at him, but then went quickly to typing. His message was a long one when it came: You think you understand the Empire better than I do? I doubt it. Perhaps you’re right. Your princess mother was one of those who dressed richly and dined well, wasn’t she? I suppose you would know. Indulgences are permitted in limited quantities, but not to the point that most Republicans let themselves have them. And people who waste their time at parties, whether or not they are official functions, are worthless. A productive individual always has a task.

Kylo turned his eyes up from reading the message to see Hux staring at him, braced for his argument. “What is your task right now, Hux?” he asked.

My body is healing was the reply. And I work with you during these hours. I’m not wholly idle.

Kylo sighed. “When have you last done something that wasn’t work? Something that you just wanted to do because you enjoy it.”

I very much enjoy my work.

“Hux,” Kylo admonished. “Don’t be an ass.”

Hux looked away from him at the far wall and his empty cup and straw on the bedside table. Kylo was willing to wait.

I play music, Hux eventually wrote. It’s not often, but once, on a whim, I found some traditional songs from Arkanis and I’ve become somewhat fond of them. Sometimes I’ll just sit and listen to them. Sometimes I’ll read while they play.

“Do you sing?” Kylo asked, unable to resist the jibe. Hux shook his head firmly, and Kylo huffed a laugh. “Should have figured as much. You have your father’s books above your bed. Why did you keep them if you hated him so much?”

Hux typed: They were the only objects he took from Arkanis. I made sure to have them moved to my quarters before he died.

Kylo smiled coldly. “You have no mercy for anyone, do you?” He had to admire that.

Mercy is like Republican indulgence, Ren. You should have it only in moderation.

“I don’t think I’m very good at that,” Kylo said. “I get something into my head and I go at it with everything I have. I’m not good at control.”

Self-control, you mean, Hux wrote. At least not of your temper. I would assume, though, that you have considerable willpower to condition yourself as you do. Do you enjoy your work, as I do mine?

Kylo didn’t often think of it in those terms. It was what he was good at and he relished the power Snoke had given him. He had a purpose—more so than he ever had with the New Jedi. “Yes,” he said. “I want to hone my power and live up to my master’s expectations for me.”

We share that, you know, came Hux’s message. We both crave power and both of us have it. He paused, fingers hovering above his datapad. And then: We squabble because we have to share it on this ship. Both of us want to hold power over the other. Isn’t that true?

“It is,” Kylo said without hesitation. “To have you taking my orders would be…” He bit his lower lip, pleased with the very idea of it.

Likewise, Hux wrote. You are a very formidable tool, Ren. One I would very much like to wield.

Kylo couldn’t read intonation, but something about the dark, keen way Hux was eyeing him suggested something almost carnal about his message. The hair on Kylo’s arms stood up, his skin sensitised as if he had been touched. He didn’t want to be “wielded” by anyone, but somewhere deep in him, interest stirred.

“It’s not going to happen that way,” Kylo said. “The Supreme Leader will either reinstate you at your same status or he’ll relieve you of command.”

Hux’s offense was plain on his face.

Kylo shoved himself out of his chair and frustratedly stepped back from Hux’s bed. “You can’t say you didn’t think of it. If I’m good enough at this, you’ll not be needed anymore.”

Hux typed, but when Kylo didn’t pick up his datapad to see the message, he flipped his and pinch-zoomed on what he had written. Kylo read: I’ve kept you afloat for nearly a week. You aren’t doing this by yourself, you kriffing pig.

Despite his anger, Kylo laughed. Hux had called him all kinds of things, but he had never stooped to childish insults. “I really must have said the wrong thing. I bet you’re so mad you’re shaking.”

Hux held up a perfectly steady hand before going back to his datapad. Kylo did him the favor of picking up his own to read his message.

I swear, Ren, one moment I think you might actually be a tolerable human being and the next you make me want to have you flogged. Are you truly this unreasonable?

“What is ‘reasonable’ to you, Hux?” Kylo said. “You want to command me just as much as I do you. How can we ever be reasonable about that?”

Hux screwed up his face, grabbing at his throat in frustration at being unable to speak. He typed furiously: I thought for a few fractions of a second that we might be able to cooperate and make a truce. Perhaps we can’t both have what we want, but we can have something close.

“Compromise,” Kylo said. “You, of all people, are asking me to compromise?”

With an unexpectedly tired expression, Hux nodded.

Kylo’s temper cooled some and he went back to the chair, sinking down into it with hands braced on the arms. “What are you proposing?” he asked.

Hux went to his datapad. I don’t have a concrete idea at this point in time, but we’ve proven in the past few days that we’re not unable to work in the same room on the same tasks. You consistently berate me for trying to do too much and managing my staff too closely. I’m willing to back off and share the load, if you’re willing to take some of it on.

Kylo cracked the knuckles of his forefingers, thoughtful. “You’d want me to keep doing things even after you get out of the medbay? What things?”

We can arrange that when the time comes, Hux wrote, but it is not a fair proposition? You want more control of the ship and I can give that to you. It would, however, necessitate that we see each other more often. He raised a questioning eyebrow. I believe we can do that, as we are currently doing. Two hours is tolerable, isn’t it?

“It’s fine,” Kylo replied. “But I still might be gone on missions sometimes. Could you do it without me while I’m away?”

Hux rolled his eyes. Of course, I can. I’ve been doing it alone for three years.

“Point taken,” said Kylo.

He mulled the idea over. It wouldn’t be so bad to take on more of this in the long term. Hux was right in that it gave him more control over the Finalizer. Kylo realized he had miscalculated his role; he had been less needed for the day-to-day running than he had thought. He was, in truth, not anywhere near a true co-commander.

“Okay,” he said. “I agree. As long as it’s what the Supreme Leader wants.”

Hux tensed, but inclined his head and held out his narrow-fingered hand. Kylo rose and took it, closing his grip firmly. Hux’s skin was warm and very smooth—much more so than Kylo’s. The necessary handshake was brief, but they lingered for some unagreed upon reason. Kylo had to tip his head down to meet Hux’s eyes and Hux turn his up. Again, Kylo’s arm hairs rose, this time from the combination of Hux’s touch and the intentness in his gaze. If Kylo wasn’t wrong, there was admiration there—of Kylo’s form, though, not their agreement. He wanted to ask what Hux saw in his face, but he held his tongue and let go of Hux’s hand.

We’ll discuss the details later, shall we? Hux typed. Right now I’m afraid our time for the night is up. I don’t want to keep you.

“I’d stay,” Kylo said. “If you wanted me to.”

Hux’s expression softened, became contented. Perhaps another night, he wrote. I’m tired and you have a toast to write.

Kylo chuckled. “I do.” He added: “I still won’t bring it to you. I’m doing this on my own.”

I understand, Hux typed. Come by before you go, if you don’t mind. I’d like to see you in your uniform before you burn it after the dinner.

Kylo’s laugh this time was outright and loud. “I’ll be keeping it just in case, but I’ll come so you can make jokes about it for the next three years.”

Hux grinned. How very self-sacrificing of you, Ren. I’ll promise not to, however, if you’re willing to let me see it once.

“Okay,” said Kylo. He moved the chair back to its place beside the bulkhead. “Goodnight, Hux.”

Hux stopped him before he went and, quickly putting the lid back on, handed him the cylinder he had brought the caf in.

Kylo took it and said, “I’ll bring more tomorrow.” He remembered Hux’s grateful smile even as he worked later and then fell asleep in Hux’s bed.

****

Mitaka had brought the uniform from fabrication two days later, and it had hung from the door of Hux’s wardrobe until Kylo had slipped it from its hanger and put it on an hour before the officers’ dinner. He had expected to look and feel ridiculous in it, but as he saw himself in the full-length mirror mounted on the bulkhead, it didn’t seem so bad. The lines were clean and he had ordered the tailoring droids to cut down on the flare of the trousers around his thighs. They didn’t contour to him, but they weren’t as foolish as the other officers’. The jacket was tighter across the shoulders and chest than he had expected, somewhat restricting his movement. However, a dinner wasn’t going to require a wide range of motion.

He zipped the regulation jackboots up his calves, tucking his trouser legs inside them, and then took the cap from the box Mitaka had carried it in. The officers aboard generally had close-cropped hair, which suited the caps, but Kylo’s hung just above his shoulders. He tried the cap on first with some hair in front of his ears, but it looked like he was hiding them too blatantly. They were prominent and had always been, so he kept his hair longer. Still, he wasn’t necessarily ashamed of them. With little other choice, he brushed his hair behind them with his fingertips and set the cap on his head.

There; he was a proper commander in the First Order.

Mitaka was waiting just outside Hux’s quarters when Kylo stepped out into the passage. His bright eyes scanned Kylo’s appearance, and he smiled. “You look very smart, sir,” he said.

Kylo resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck, uncertain. “It’ll have to do. Is Hux waiting for us in the medbay?”

“He is, sir. I sent word ahead a few minutes ago that we were ready to stop by.”

Hux had reminded Kylo of his promise to appear in uniform before he went to the dinner and delivered his toast while they had worked together the night before. Kylo had, unfortunately, assured him he would come.

“Let’s get this over with, then,” Kylo muttered.

The stares started right away as they walked down the passage. A tech nearly dropped her datapad in her rush to salute when she set eyes on him. She continued to watch him as he walked past, and he could even feel her gaze on his back. A patrol of stormtroopers collided with each other in a clatter of plassteel armor as they saw him. Kylo’s cheeks burned, but he hoped desperately that that would stop by the time he got to Hux’s room in the medbay. He was used to sticking out among the crew, but not like this.

“Is it that bad?” he hissed to Mitaka when they were in the lift alone.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Mitaka said.

Kylo shot him a glare. “They’re staring at me. Everyone.”

“Well, yes, sir. They’re not used to seeing you in uniform. It’s, ah, very striking.”

“In a bad way, right?” Kylo asked, tense and hating this situation.

“No, sir,” Mitaka replied. “As I said, you look very smart. Very handsome. The crew is just...struck.”

Kylo wasn’t overly reassured, but it had been a long, long time since anyone had complimented his looks; he couldn’t resist the little flame of pleasure in his chest. Not many people had favored him over the years. As a boy in the New Jedi, attachments had been forbidden. It hadn’t stopped a group of teenagers from fooling around with each other, but Ben Solo had not been a favorite among the other boys. He had been older, and just like he had told Hux, they had hated him more than they liked him. He learned his way around kissing and groping, but it hadn’t been until Snoke had taken him in and let him loose on a populated planet that he had learned about physical pleasure. It hadn’t always been free, but when it had, his partners had taken him because he appealed to them. He knew he wasn’t unpleasant to look at, anyway.

“I should order them not to stare,” he grumbled in the lift.

Mitaka stifled a laugh. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t go over well, sir. They’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not wearing this thing again,” said Kylo. “Hux said I’d probably burn it when I’m done. It’s sounding like a better and better idea.”

“Well, I think it suits you very well, Master Ren,” Mitaka said, and that was the final word about it.

The medbay staff was no less shocked by Kylo’s clothes than the troopers or techs had been, but they scattered out of his way as he cut a path across the ward to Hux’s private room. Mitaka wasn’t usually with him when he came here, and, as if he thought he was trespassing, he stayed outside when Kylo went in.

Kylo stopped short just past the threshold; the bed where Hux was usually safely tucked was empty. It had recently been slept in, Kylo could see, but Hux was not in it. He wasn’t anywhere that Kylo could see him.

“Hux?” he asked. But, of course, he couldn’t speak to reply.

From the other side of the narrow refresher door, Kylo heard the distinct flush of the toilet and then the running of the sonic sink as Hux washed his hands. A few seconds later, the door hissed open and Hux came out. No different from anyone else, surprise filled his face as he set eyes on Kylo.

Kylo fought not to glance away or down, instead just keeping his arms steady at his sides and holding Hux’s gaze. Hux’s feet were in no-slip socks, Kylo saw, as he came around the foot of the bed to stand in front of Kylo. He looked Kylo up and down, and then he nodded once. Kylo managed not to show his relief; Hux had no right to judge him, after all. But Kylo liked having his approval. He found himself smiling.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked with much greater confidence than before. “Mitaka said it does.”

Hux pursed his lips, his eyes falling on Kylo’s neck. Reaching out with his clean hands, he took hold of the edges of Kylo’s stiff collar and made a show of pretending to straighten them. Kylo held back a preening hum; he knew the collar was in perfect order—all of him was. Hux was just fussing for the sake of it.

“Better now, General?” Kylo said slyly. “Do I meet your standards?”

As if to say that no, in fact he didn’t, Hux swept his hands over Kylo’s shoulders and chest to brush away imaginary dust. He tugged on the sleeves and hem of Kylo’s jacket before finally backing off, presumably deeming him up to snuff. What struck Kylo, though, was how close he was standing; and he wasn’t moving away. From such a short distance, Kylo could smell the bleachy medical soap he had used to wash his hands, and his clothes had a clean laundry scent tinged ever-so-slightly with a day’s musk from having been worn overnight. His hair was flopped over his forehead again.

Before he could even think about the boundaries it might cross, Kylo brushed a lock back from above his eyebrows. He expected Hux to pull away, affronted, but he stayed, blinking slowly at Kylo. It was impossible to read what he was thinking, but Kylo’s senses were coming online, awareness and excitement tingling at the base of his spine. He had seen others look at him as Hux was now, even if rarely: Hux was attracted—to him.

The second that realization hit him, Kylo was at a complete loss. He didn’t know if he should retreat and pretend it never happened or if he should slide one of his arms around Hux’s skinny waist and pull him closer. Both seemed perfectly reasonable just then, and the desire to do each at the same time had Kylo standing exactly where he was, looking at Hux looking at him. However, he didn’t mistake it when Hux glanced down at his lips. He swallowed heavily.

Hux opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Eyelids drooping, he closed it again, sighing through his nose.

“You can type it,” Kylo said quietly. He thought he might have wanted to hear what Hux had to say just then.

Shaking his head, Hux took a step back. He gestured toward the door, urging Kylo out of it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Kylo said. “Wish me luck.”

Hux smiled, and then he mouthed: Good luck.

The furniture in the officers’ longue had been arranged to suit a large dining table around which twenty of the most senior officers could sit. Upon Kylo’s arrival, most of them were already present, milling around the room with glasses of sparkling wine in their hands. Their murmured conversations died when he appeared. He held himself tall as he went to the head of the table. There was an empty wine glass waiting for him, and it took only a few seconds for a steward to come over and fill it. Kylo picked it up. As if he had bidden them do it, the officers took their places. Mitaka had originally not intended on attending, but Kylo had insisted. He sat at the foot of the table.

“Good evening,” Kylo began.

“Master Ren,” most of them muttered, some raising their glasses.

Kylo lifted his own, summoning up the words he had written and memorized over the past two days. They smacked of Hux and came awkwardly, but he forced them out: “All of you have come tonight to celebrate the promotion of our lieutenants…” He gave their names, meeting their eyes as he said them. “They’ve served the First Order and the Finalizer faithfully for the past three years, and in recognition of their efforts, we toast in their honor.”

As Hux’s past toasts dictated, Kylo spoke about each officer in turn, recalling the duties their supervisors had told him of and wishing them well. The whole thing felt stilted, and he stumbled over the words a few times, but he managed. When he finally finished and they all drank, he deflated with utter relief.

Dinner came shortly after they took their seats and Kylo heard from the man next to him, “A good toast, Master Ren. These young lieutenants—I means majors—will certainly remember that it was you who gave them their send-off into their new positions.”

“I hope it was enough,” Kylo said truthfully. “They deserve something good. Maybe better than I can do.”

The man next to him chuckled. “It’s more than enough, sir.”

Kylo hated small-talk, but suffered through the pleasantries as best he could. He thought by the end of the night that his diplomat mother might even have been impressed with him. Still, he was glad when the whole thing was over.

Mitaka accompanied him back to Hux’s quarters, where he offered: “Well done tonight, sir. It went very well.”

“Thanks,” Kylo said as he opened the door with the Force.

“Would you like me to get the code changed to yours, sir?” Mitaka asked. “So you don’t always have to do...that.”

Kylo balked. “Change the code on Hux’s quarters to mine? No. That’s not necessary. He had just change it when he gets out of the medbay. I don’t even know it. It’s fine.”

Mitaka said, “Okay, sir. Is there anything else you need tonight? Your caf at 2300?”

“I think I’ll just go to sleep,” Kylo said, realizing just how weary he was. “I’ll catch up with messages tomorrow.” He sighed. “As much as I can catch up, that is.”

“If there’s a backlog,” said Mitaka, “I’m sure General Hux can help you with it.”

“Yes,” Kylo said softly.

He thought back to Hux’s touch at his collar and brushed his own fingertips over it. It was strangely sentimental and Kylo should have been put off, but he wasn’t; he liked the memory. He liked the idea of Hux touching more of him—his bare skin instead of the stiff material of his uniform. When that had started, he couldn’t say, but it also didn’t put him off. He was comfortable in knowing it and wondering if just maybe, after how Hux had looked at him that evening, he should say something about it to him.

“Mitaka,” he said as stood half in the passage and half in Hux’s quarters, “does Hux talk about me with you, when you go to see him?”

The little lieutenant seemed surprised, but he replied, “Yes, sir. Sometimes. It’s not as bad as it used to be. No complaints.”

Kylo sucked his lower lip into his mouth, a tic of Ben Solo’s when he was nervous. “Is it good things?”

Mitaka’s lips turned up some. “You want to know if he likes you, sir?”

“No,” Kylo said by rote. “I mean...I know he doesn’t hate me, but I’ve been liking working with him in the medbay, and...maybe he likes it, too.”

“He hasn’t told me anything outright,” Mitaka said, “but I’m sure he would tell you if you asked him.”

Kylo was certain he couldn’t be that up-front. “I’ll think about it. Night, Lieutenant.”

“Goodnight, Master Ren.”

When Kylo was alone in Hux’s quarters, he took his time about undressing. He watched himself as he did it and wondered what Hux had seen in him tonight that had softened his eyes and kept him from stepping away. Kylo figured it had been the right decision not to paw at him then, but he thought about it now. He was good-looking when he wasn’t dead tired and glaring. Kylo sought his smiles and hoped that when he recovered his voice, he might use it kindly.

Good luck, Hux had told him.

Kylo slipped between Hux’s cool sheets and tried to imagine what it would sound like if Hux spoke it. He would someday, he resolved. He’d earn those words.

Chapter Text

Kylo had Mitaka set aside an hour in his schedule that next morning to run another battle simulation on the bridge. He went into it with no small measure of trepidation, but by the end of forty-one minutes, he had successful commanded the Finalizer through a blockade with minimal losses. The techs and navigators actually applauded when the drill was over, and Kylo had to keep himself from smiling like a pleased little boy. He held his expression neutral, thanked the crew for their hard work, and departed the bridge.

In the passage, though, he grinned at Mitaka. “What do you think, Lieutenant? I might make a general after all.”

Mitaka returned his smile, flashing his white teeth and looking less mousy than usual. “It was very impressive, sir. You should tell General Hux.”

“Word will probably get to him,” Kylo said. “By tonight, he’ll know everything about how it went and probably have corrections.” He decided he would take them if Hux did; he wanted to learn more.

“Not many, sir,” said Mitaka. He produced his datapad, as he always did, and told Kylo their destination for his next meeting.

Feeling light, Kylo set off for the appointed place.

He worked his way through the day, and was, by the end, ready for a few minutes to himself. In Hux’s quarters, he washed his face and changed into a clean and comfortable tunic and trousers. He sat for an hour at the console, working and eating his late dinner, until he was ready to go to the medbay. Mitaka brought him his cylinder of hot caf while he was cleaning his teeth.

“I won’t need my 2300 dose,” Kylo told him. “I’ll never sleep, then.”

Mitaka nodded, saying, “Of course, sir. I’ll see you in the morning. As always, my comm is on if you need me later.”

Kylo set a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, Mitaka. Don’t worry about me and Hux for a while.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. Ducking out from under Kylo’s hand, he left the room.

Kylo had ten minutes before he needed to be down in the medbay, so he went to the mirror in the ‘fresher and fiddled some with his hair. Vanity was bred out of the Jedi and since he usually wore his mask, he didn’t bother much with his appearance. Now that he went barefaced, however, he took more time about it—like he imagined Hux did in his fifteen minutes of personal maintenance in the mornings.

Hux’s severity of hairstyle and cleanly shaven chin suited his rank and attitude, but Kylo preferred Hux’s untreated hair. He remembered far more often than he should how soft it had been when he had pushed a lock back from his brow. Kylo wanted to feel more of it, even muss it further, if just to make Hux give him the disapproving look that had begun to fill Kylo’s chest with unaccustomed fondness.

Their time together wasn’t fraught anymore; in fact, it was one of the most peaceful parts of Kylo’s long days. They still shared the caf cup between then: an unexpected intimacy. It seemed that Hux hadn’t thought twice about handing Kylo the cup that first time, and ever since he had given it over without question. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to share anything from which he ate or drank unless it was strictly necessary, but somehow he deemed Kylo worthy. Kylo liked to think it was trust, or, if he dared, sentiment.

Nine days ago, if anyone had asked him if he had any kind of affection for Armitage Hux, he would have laughed; but now he knew Hux was quiet when he needed to be, and willing to split both his workload and his caf. Kylo thought it might be a stretch to call them friends, but, if he didn’t deny the attraction that he swore he could feel between them, neither of them had any particular desire to make a friendship out of it. They were either at odds or they were going to be something far more intimate.

A part of Kylo was apprehensive about forming an attachment to anyone—especially someone he had spent three year hating—but he had been falling asleep most nights to the thought of having Hux in his quarters with him. They could be working side-by-side or, maybe more often, together in Hux’s bed. Kylo wanted to know what his kiss would taste like; he thought it would be caf. And there was the hair he wanted to ruffle and soft hands he wanted to hold in his own or feel on his bare skin.

He wondered if those things showed on his face when he was looking at Hux in the medbay. The ideas crossed his mind there, sometimes, and his expressions hid little about what he was thinking. If Hux was keen enough, Kylo was sure he could see Kylo imagining leaning over the narrow sickbed and planting a kiss on Hux’s mouth. What would he do, Kylo wondered again and again. He couldn’t unleash a torrent of curses on him, but his eyes would be enough, most likely. They were cold and hard when he didn’t approve of something, but there were also times when they seemed softer, even compassionate. At those times, he looked warmly on Kylo, usually with the smiles Kylo had come to seek. Maybe he had the same thoughts Kylo did in those moments—at least Kylo hoped he did. What that would mean to them, and if he would even act on those ideas, was beyond him right now.

Taking a comb to his hair one last time, Kylo gave himself one more quick look in the mirror before leaving Hux’s quarters. He passed few crewmen on his way down to the medbay, standing in the lift alone with his cylinder of caf. He had stopped trying to hide it from the medics; one look from him silenced them before they could scold him for it. And hopefully they saw how it perked Hux up. If they wanted him to heal, this was a way he could feel like himself again.

Medic Andan was on duty when Kylo arrived in the medbay, and she offered him her usual tight-lipped, disapproving expression. “Good evening, Master Ren,” she said flatly. “The general is over by the far viewport.”

“He’s up and walking more?” Kylo asked.

She nodded. “I don’t think we could keep him down for much longer. He would have put us all out the airlock.” She raised one thin gray eyebrow. “The only person he seems to tolerate is you.”

Warmth bloomed in Kylo’s chest, but he kept his tone even and disinterested as he said, “There’s Lieutenant Mitaka.”

Andan shrugged. “He doesn’t brighten for him like he does for you. The work probably helps, but”—she gave him devious kind of look that made her sharp cheekbones stand out further—“I don’t think it’s all about that.”

“Maybe not,” said Kylo, giving away nothing. He spun the cylinder of caf around in his hands as he dismissed her: “That’s all, Andan.”

She inclined her head, even if the deference was false. “Master Ren.”

The medbay had one main viewport, but it took up nearly the entire starboard section of the bulkhead, displaying a wide swath of the starscape beyond. The purple and blue dust that made up the galaxy was visible as a far-off horizon. Despite having grown up planetside, Ben Solo had learned to love space when his father had taught him to fly. Those weeks he spent in the cockpit of the Falcon were some of his best memories. Maybe he didn’t pilot the Finalizer, but he had her view of the open galaxy and he appreciated it.

Hux was seated on a sterile-looking gray couch a few feet from the viewport. Kylo expected to find him sitting upright with his two feet planted firmly on the floor and his back ramrod-straight, but what he saw was Hux curled up in the crook of the couch with his feet tucked under him, his blue patient’s shirt and trousers a little wrinkled from the day. His datapad was in his hand, and Kylo could see him in profile: long neck leading up to his soft jawline and round chin. His nose sloped straight down to the mouth Kylo had spent too much time thinking about in the past few days. The hardness and condescension were gone from his face, replaced by contemplative ease. Kylo was almost reluctant to disturb him.

Still, he went to the couch, coming around the opposite side so that Hux could see him. Hux turned his eyes up from his datapad and gave Kylo an owlish blink. Then one side of his mouth lifted and he gestured to the couch next to him. Kylo sat toward the middle, allowing him to be close enough to hand Hux the cylinder of caf. Hux accepted it with a reverence that had Kylo chuckling.

“You’re happier to see that than me,” Kylo said, only half-serious.

Hux unscrewed the top of the cylinder and gave Kylo a very grave nod, but we he poured the first cup, he held it out to Kylo.

Kylo pushed it back toward him. “You have it. I can always get more. It’s not contraband where I am.”

Bringing the steaming caf to his lips, Hux took a small sip and gave a satisfied little hum. He still wasn’t permitted to speak, but he had been making little noises, especially when he was trying to get Kylo’s attention while they worked and waving his hands wasn’t enough to make Kylo look up from his datapad. Kylo would always feel a small bit sorry to have made Hux go to those lengths, but it didn’t seem like it hurt him. And the bandage at this throat was smaller now than it had been in the beginning; it was barely more than the length of one of Kylo’s thumbs and twice as wide.

“Have you been out here for long?” Kylo asked.

Hux held up his index finger and then drew a circle in the air. Kylo wouldn’t have known what it meant he if hadn’t seen the twelve-hour clock that Hux kept his quarters. The sign indicated that he had been there for an hour.

Kylo continued: “Restless?”

Hux nodded again, shifting in his seat so that he could cross his legs in front of him like a child seated on the floor. It was so out of character that Kylo had to suppress a smile. General Hux was not cute—but that position was, with his non-slip medbay socks ruched around his ankles where they showed just below the hems of his trousers. This man was so different from the one Kylo had worked with before; this Hux was mild-mannered and relaxed. Kylo could see him like this in bed in his quarters with Kylo at his side.

As Kylo looked at him, Hux cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, questioning. Kylo deflected: “Should we start with the messages, or do you want to hear how the meetings went today?”

Hux raised a hand to stop him, shaking his head. He lifted his cup of caf and then took a sip in a pantomime of a toast. He wanted to know how Kylo’s had gone last night.

Kylo glanced down at his datapad, stalling for time he knew he didn’t have. “It went fine,” he said after a moment. “Didn’t Mitaka tell you?”

Hux pointed a finger at Kylo’s chest: You tell me.

Sighing, Kylo said, “I wasn’t as good as you are, but I didn’t completely fail. Or at least nobody told me I did.” He pushed his hair back from his face. “Honestly, I won’t mind turning that kind of thing back over to you when you have your voice back. I’m sure the troopers are missing your speeches by this point.”

With one hand, Hux typed something onto his datapad, the message appearing on Kylo’s own: I’m already writing the ones I have to make up for in my absence.

Kylo might once have taken him seriously, but he could see he was joking by the crinkling around his eyes as he tried not to laugh. Kylo shot him wry glance and shook his head. “Liar.”

Hux wrote: How would you know? I have to while away the hours here somehow.

“Prove it, then,” said Kylo, holding out his hand. “Show me.”

Sucking his teeth, Hux went to his datapad and pulled something up. He handed it to Kylo to read. Kylo started in and recognized his own toast from the night before.

“How the kriff did you get this?” he snarled as he dropped the datapad between them. “You hacked my datapad?”

It’s my encrypted network you have running on it, Hux typed when he picked up the datapad again. I coded in a few back doors. Kylo was scowling at him as he continued: You did very well, Ren. It’s maybe not as tidy as I would have done, but you’re not a tidy person. It suits you, and I’m sure the new officers were pleased.

Kylo’s hackles lowered. “I think they were. And”—he ventured a sly smile—“I kept the uniform.”

Hux smiled in return, but it wasn’t necessarily out of amusement. His focus was on Kylo’s face, studying him. Eventually, he typed: It suits you, too. Although maybe less so than your black monk’s vestments. Or perhaps I’m just used to those.

Kylo scoffed. “Admit it, you don’t hate them as much as you pretend to.”

They’re unncessarily theatrical, Hux wrote, but somehow you use that to your advantage. Perhaps it’s just the sheer size of you when you’re sweeping around in them with your laser sword.

“I’m bigger than you,” said Kylo, moving ever-so-slightly closer to Hux to emphasize his point.

Hux rolled his eyes. I’m aware of that. It’s very difficult not to be when we’re in close quarters, as we have been of late. Or when you’re looming in an attempt to intimidate me.

Kylo had very much done that before, so he couldn’t argue. “Did it ever work?”

Hux hesitated, wetting his lower lip before replying: Once or twice. But clearly I succeeded in hiding that if you had to ask me just now.

“You’re good at that,” Kylo said. “Hiding things from people. You’re always the perfect soldier to them, but there’s more to you that you don’t show anyone.” He looked to Hux’s soft hair and his wrinkled clothes, continuing: “Except now. I think you might have told me more about yourself in the last week than you have anyone else on the ship. Not even Mitaka knows as much as I do.”

Hux averted his eyes, but then turned to his datapad. I’ve never enjoyed talking about my personal life, he typed. It’s not a very charming story or a particularly interesting one. And I’m not looking for confidants among the crew. I don’t require someone to hear out my every concern.

“It’s not anyone’s business, anyway,” said Kylo. “I don’t talk about who I used to be, either. And you’ve never pressed to know.” He made sure to meet Hux’s gaze. “I appreciate that.”

Hux replied: I respect your right to keep things to yourself, Ren, but should you ever need to speak about them, or just want to, I’ll hear you. What you say won’t leave the room. As you said, I’m very good at hiding things, others’ secrets included.

Kylo rarely dredged up Ben Solo, but there were times when it was unavoidable. “I may do that, sometime,” he said. “I’ll make an appointment on your schedule.”

Hux gave one of his silent laughs and began to type. The message Kylo got was short but hit him hard, like a physical blow: If you want to speak to me, I will find the time—no exceptions.

When Kylo looked up, Hux was watching him, parsing his reaction. Kylo couldn’t think of anything better to say than “You, too.” And he meant it.

His hand was resting on his thigh by the edge of his datapad and, haltingly, Hux extended his own and set it over top of Kylo’s. With the touch, his whole body seemed to ease toward Kylo as if drawn. His gaze darted over Kylo’s face apprehensively, but when Kylo didn’t pull away, a hopefulness lit in his expression. Kylo wanted to lean in, too, and see where this was about to lead them, but a clatter from startled them both into looking in the direction of the noise. A nurse had dropped a bedpan and was dealing with the mess. Seeing that, they both remembered where they were and pulled back from one another.

“We should get to work,” Kylo said.

Hux nodded and they turned to the messages.

For a while they kept to business exclusively, but as Hux was looking over the budget summaries from the purser, he rubbed at his chin and then typed: I’ve noticed Line Item 1401 hasn’t been touched since I was injured.

“Which one is that?” Kylo asked. He didn’t have any of them memorized and had no intention of ever doing so.

Hux highlighted the line on his datapad and showed it to him. It was the fund code for Kylo’s damage to the Finalizer.

Kylo, annoyed, frowned down his nose at Hux, who only gave his soundless laugh.

Don’t be like that, Hux wrote. I’m glad you’re not out ruining our ship. Though I admit, I’m a little surprised that you haven’t taken out any of your frustrations on her.

Kylo didn’t want to pout, but it was nearly what he did, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to glare. He was, in part, ashamed for having been so careless before, but he wasn’t going to give Hux the satisfaction of apologizing for it.

“Have a look at the line for training equipment,” he grumbled. “I’ve been cleaving dummies every morning for days.”

Hux shrugged one shoulder. Those are far cheaper to replace than sections of bulkhead or consoles.

“What happened to the bulkhead in your quarters?” Kylo asked, suddenly thinking of it. “Where I damaged it. It looks perfectly fine again, now.”

That took a great deal of workmanship to repair, I’ll have you know, Hux typed, chiding. I had to have the fabrication droids brought up and superheat the durasteel to put it back into its proper form. My quarters smelled like hot metal for weeks afterward. It was vile, and I cursed you for it every day.

“Good,” said Kylo. Hux scowled darkly, so he quickly amended: “I had been so angry that day that the more inconvenience I could make for you, the better. And you deserved it. You deliberately deployed your troops to a different location than I had specified and left me and the knights on our own. If we had been anyone else, we would probably be dead.”

Hux sighed through his nose, affront subsiding. He wrote: That was a poor decision on my part, yes. That operation would have gone better if we had communicated more clearly.

Kylo countered, “I ‘communicated’ perfectly. I told you where I needed the troops and you deliberately went against what I said. It’s not that hard to figure out why it went wrong.”

You’re right. That kark-up was my fault. Is that what you wanted to hear?

“It doesn’t hurt to hear it,” Kylo said. He sat back against the couch, shifting his weight after sitting in the same position for almost an hour. “But what would be better is just to know that you won’t do it again—that you’ll listen to me when talk strategy. I’m not going to try to run your battles for you, but what I need is some support when I ask for it.”

Hux already had his face cast down to his datapad when Kylo finished speaking, and his message didn’t take long to appear: I don’t know. From what I heard of a blockade simulation today, you very well might be running the battles.

Pride welled up in Kylo, but he kept himself in check. “You heard about that.”

Hux nodded. Dopheld told me. You vastly improved on your first attempt. The bridge crew were very impressed with you. I should have liked to have been there.

Kylo felt some heat coming into his face. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Hux watching him run simulations, breathing down his neck and judging his every move. “I’m still not as good as you,” he said. “You’re the general. I have my own place on the ground.”

I will make you a deal, then, Hux typed. When I plan an offensive, I will consult you, if you’re present on the ship. You can give me your opinion. I can’t promise to heed it, but I will listen and consider. Are you amenable?

“All right,” Kylo said. Without much thought for their brief touch before, he held out his hand for Hux to shake. Hux paused, looking at it, before he finally took it. His skin was cool, far more so than Kylo’s. “Are you cold?” Kylo asked, bringing his other hand up to wrap around the one of Hux’s he already held. “Do you want to go back to your room?”

It took a few seconds, but then Hux gave a nod.

Kylo released him to pick up their datapads, tucking them both under his arm as he got to his feet. Hux rose, too, standing beside him for a last look at the stars, and then they started toward Hux’s private sickroom, in no particular hurry.

Gazes of medbay officers followed them as they walked side-by-side, Hux’s strides just a few inches shorter than Kylo’s. Kylo stayed quiet until they got inside and Hux had turned back to the newly changed sheets on his narrow bed.

“I bet you’ll be glad to get back to your own quarters soon,” Kylo said. “Your own bed.” He didn’t mention that he had been keeping it warm for him since he had been gone.

Hux nodded in agreement, gesturing all around them and then affecting weariness.

Kylo laughed lightly. “I’d be tired of it, too.” He pointed at the cylinder, now empty of caf, that Hux had carried in, and held out Hux’s datapad. “Trade you for this.” The objects changed hands, and Kylo said,  “I’ll go, then.”

He went to turn away, but Hux put up a hand to stop him. In a very breathy, quiet whisper, Hux said, “Goodnight, Ren,” and then he let him go.

Kylo cut through the medbay and back to the lift, where he fell back against the wall. It might not have been Hux’s proper voice, but he had said Kylo’s name—at least what Hux had always called him. He had never thought to ask Hux to use his first name, but now wondered what it might sound like if he did. He was overcome with the desire to hear it, maybe whispered, just as Hux had done.

“Armitage,” Kylo said aloud, weighing the syllables on his tongue. He couldn’t imagine what Hux would say if he tried to call him by his given name, but he thought it wouldn’t be received well. At least not unless Kylo asked him for his permission first. Maybe it was a step too far for now.

In Hux’s quarters, he set the empty cylinder aside for the droids to collect in the morning and went to take off his boots. Barefoot, he settled in Hux’s desk chair and powered on his console. Hux had given him some notes for his messages during their work and he wanted to take care of the writing while they were still fresh in his mind.

As he was going for the message icon, he missed it and opened a collection of Hux’s personal files. They weren’t locked down on this console, since it was his. Kylo knew he should just leave them, but he scrolled through them slowly. Most of the file names were cryptic and he tried one at random. The file expanded to show the names of a number of media tracks, their titles in Aurebesh but words he didn’t recognize. Intrigued, he tapped one of them to start it.

The console was apparently connected to hidden speakers around the office because the music came from all around the room, enveloping him in its string-heavy, mournful sound. Mournful might have been the wrong word, but it had a heavy solemnity to it, especially when a woman began to sing. Her voice was low and pure, spinning a melody above the strings. Kylo listened for a while, trying to pick out phrases he understood. Finally, he heard a name: Arkanis.

Hux had once told him that he had music from his homeworld he listened to from time to time to relax. This must have been it. Kylo found it soothing, too, and realized, as it played that this was one of Hux’s only connections to his homeworld, and probably the only one he didn’t object to seeking out. He thought Arkanis was now a fallen world under the “disorder” of the New Republic, but these songs harkened back to days before that—maybe days when a little boy with red hair had sat in the solarium he remembered and watched the rain fall on the transparisteel.

“Armitage,” Kylo said again, quietly, over the music.

****

Kylo chose not to wear his uniform to the dinner he was being forced to attend two days later. Four representatives from the planet Plontril had come aboard the Finalizer several hours before and had been shepherded to their quarters to refresh themselves after their nine-hour trip across the Unknown Regions. Hux had been carefully brokering a deal with them to supply the First Order’s navy with provisions for several months. That wasn’t unusual for the Plontrilians, who spoke slowly and did nothing without consulting their ancestral spirits. He had warned Kylo, who would be entertaining them in Hux’s place, that he would have to steel himself to keep from losing his patience.

Don’t kark this up, Ren, he had warned last night during their conference. I’ve put up with too much of their superstitious Bantha dung about spirits and ‘communing’ for too long to come out of this deal empty-handed. We need these supplies.

Kylo had sworn he wouldn’t destroy all of Hux’s hard work, even if he had to grind his teeth and be the diplomat his mother had decided he could never be. Despite leaving off the uniform, he selected his clothing carefully: a pair of synth-hide trousers tucked into high boots and a long-sleeved black tunic over which he hung a red sash emblazoned with the insignia of the First Order. He didn’t often do it anymore, but Leia had taught him how to plait his hair, which he did tonight: only the top—in one neat braid—to keep it out of his face. The rest he let hang down to cover his ears.

“If I may say so, sir,” said Mitaka when Kylo appeared in Hux’s office, having just finished the plaiting, “you look the part of the commander. Very dashing, sir.”

Kylo ran the flats of his hands over the sash, fussing at where it was knotted at his side. It was the most color he had worn in years and it seemed almost garish. “It’s not too much?” he asked.

Mitaka was quick to reply, “Not at all, sir.”

Letting his arms fall to his sides again, Kylo took a breath. “All right. Let’s just get this over with.” Mitaka would be in attendance, but only to take notes on the negotiations for Hux to read later. Kylo had reluctantly agreed to the plan, though he wasn’t sure he wanted Hux to know exactly what he had said—in the unlucky case that he did, in fact, kark the whole thing up.

The small officers’ mess was set up with a formal table and place settings, more glasses and forks than Kylo remembered how to use. He stood at the head of the table while Mitaka disappeared into the background, both of them waiting for their guests.

The four representatives were all female, as the Plontrilians birthed more females than males and the society was matriarchal. They were humanoid, but had eyes that seemed far too large for their faces and no hair grew on their heads. Instead, they were heavily tattooed with swirling images of their ancestors’ spirit symbols and the symbols they had adopted for themselves. They wore elaborate robes with sleeves that they could tie up with ribbons while they ate and drank.

“Ambassadors,” Kylo said when they came into the mess, “welcome aboard the First Order star destroyer Finalizer.”

They regarded him steadily before the oldest of them stepped forward and bowed from the waist. “Master Ren,” she said in very careful, slow words. “We were told you are called that. We are sorry not to see General Hux here tonight, but cordially greet you in his stead.”

Kylo had no idea whether he was expected to bow back, so he just stood straight, hands behind his back, and inclined his head. “He’s sorry he can’t join us, but I’ve been told of your previous meetings and what has been agreed to so far.”

The old woman smiled indulgently. “Nothing has been agreed to yet, young master. That is what we are here to do tonight.”

On edge already, Kylo offered them their chairs. “Sit. The first course will come shortly.”

Just as they talked slowly, the ambassadors ate slowly. Kylo had cleaned his plate of whatever small dish the serving droids had brought them long before they were even halfway done. The conversation was long-winded, and each of the ambassadors spoke in turn. Kylo listened to them all as attentively as he could, though he was glad Mitaka was catching the notes.

“So, Master Ren,” said the senior ambassador as she finished the last bite of her dessert nearly three hours after they had begun the meal, “we have decided, after speaking with both you and General Hux, that your cause would be sanctioned by the ancestors. We are not a fighting people anymore, but once our mothers fought each other relentlessly for territory on our own planet. You seek territory in the galaxy, and while there are no women among your leaders, we deem you to be competent.” She clicked her tongue. “Despite your youth.”

“You’re not the first to say that,” said Kylo.

The woman smiled. “No, I don’t imagine I am. You’re very unlike General Hux, but you speak of him fondly. You get on well?”

Kylo’s brows knit. He had said a few things about Hux during the dinner, but mostly just about what he had said concerning their trade deal. “Not always,” he admitted, “but more lately than in the past.”

“Mm, yes. It’s a newfound fondness, then.” She swirled her wine around in her glass, looking at Kylo over it as if she saw everything about him with her too-big eyes. “Have you considered a union?”

Kylo choked on the water he had been drinking. “A what?”

She laughed. “You certainly have, then, but maybe not in so many words. On our world, there are many women and much of our affection is shared between us rather than with our men. They have their place and we care about them, but our leadership falls to unions between us. Is there not something akin to that here in the First Order?”

“Ah,” Kylo started, fumbling for an answer. “All...unions are allowed, but there’s no special circumstances for co-commanders. It wouldn’t be expected of us, if that’s what you mean.”

She rested her long fingers under her chin, still looking hard at him. “It’s not expected of us, either, but if often makes our tribes stronger. I could see that for you and General Hux. You would make a very interesting match.”

Kylo’s cheeks were burning red and he was looking anywhere but the ambassador’s face. He was hoping to the stars that Mitaka had stopped making his notes; he didn’t want to Hux to read this later.

“We’ve never, uh, talked about anything like that,” he managed to say. “We’re very different…”

“Don’t tease him, Mother,” said the youngest of the ambassadors. “Just because you and Leterya were at odds before you made your union doesn’t mean it will work for him.”

The older woman waved her daughter off. “I have a keen eye for this kind of thing, girl.” To Kylo: “Consider it, Master Ren. Your First Order is already mighty; imagine what could be if you were truly united.”

“I’ll do that,” Kylo said, half to put an end to the topic and half in earnest. He had been been thinking about and, if he was honest, desiring Hux since they had struck up their unusual truce. Snoke had always told them they were both assets to the Order. If they cooperated instead of bickering, it was true they might be even greater.

“Good,” said the ambassador definitively. “Now, we’ve talked enough. Thank you for your hospitality, Master Ren, but it is time we retire. Our day cycles are only eight hours long, so we tire easily. Will you see us off in the morning?”

Kylo got to his feet and offered a bow like she had given him in greeting. “I’ll be there, Ambassador.”

After they had gone, he went hurriedly over to Mitaka and hissed, “Strike everything about that last part from the notes.”

Mitaka replied, “Are you sure, sir?”

“It doesn’t leave this room.”

Tapping his datapad, Mitaka presumably erased the lines he had taken down. “Done, sir. Should we go? General Hux will want to see these.”

Kylo was prepared to make his way down to the medbay to debrief, but a presence in his mind stopped him dead. Snoke was summoning him, as he hadn’t in some time, and the call wasn’t something to be ignored.

“Go yourself,” Kylo said to Mitaka. “I have something to take care of. Tell him I’ll be down when I can.”

Mitaka’s baffled expression was plain enough, but Kylo couldn’t explain this to him—not right now, anyway. He needed to be in the communications room as fast as his feet could carry him there.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant,” he said as he charged out of the mess and toward the lift.

The pressure in his head grew more and more insistent as he hurried, and was beginning to ache as he finally entered the comms room and engaged the private connection to the Supremacy. Snoke’s image flickered to life, blue in the dark room around it.

“Master,” Kylo said.

“My apprentice,” said Snoke, low and rumbling. “You have been busy.” He smiled darkly, twisting his already scarred and sunken face. “I’ve been monitoring your work while General Hux is unable to command, and you have impressed me. I did not think you had the capacity to do as you have done. I’m impressed, Kylo Ren.”

“Thank you, Master,” said Kylo, ducking his head. “It hasn’t been easy, but it was necessary.”

Snoke hummed, folding his gnarled hands in his lap. “It was. I wonder, now, if General Hux’s time is over. You are more than capable of—”

Kylo cut him off with a firm “No, Master. I can do this work if I have to, but I have other things I need to see to. There are artifacts of the Sith and Jedi that I want to find, and I need more time to train with the knights and hone my skills, as you have commanded me to do. Hux’s role is important. He’s a good strategist and administrator.” He paused, but then added, “We’ve agreed that I’ll take on more aboard, but I need to be able to leave the ship. I would trust no one else with her but Hux in my absence.”

Snoke seemed to contemplate for a few moments, leaving Kylo to stand in tense silence to await his orders. Finally, he spoke: “I condone this choice. You are first and foremost my apprentice. You do indeed have your own work, and it is keen of you to recognize that. Very well. General Hux will return to his position when he is well and you will return to yours.” He raised his naked eyebrows. “If somewhat changed.”

“Yes, Master,” Kylo said. “That’s what I want.”

“Good,” said Snoke.

Kylo regarded him solemnly. “Is there another task you have for me?”

“No. I wanted only to propose a change in command. But, you have made your choice. Tell General Hux what I have ordered.”

Kylo nodded, imagining that Hux would be glad to hear it. Maybe Kylo would even get one of his smiles. “I’ll do that, Master.”

Snoke cut the call, image disappearing. Kylo stood unmoving for a few seconds, processing how he had all but begged Snoke to let Hux return to duty, to retain his position of Kylo’s co-commander. Eleven days ago, he never would have done such a thing, but he knew Hux differently now, and he appreciated both what he did and who he was as a man. He wasn’t quite as reluctant anymore to admit that he wanted to keep Hux around because he liked him—even if he couldn’t yet say that to Hux himself.

He left the room then, headed for the medbay. Andan gave him an uncaring wave as he passed the medic’s station, but some of the others caught sight of his sash and watched him walk by. He was tempted to tear it off and drop it down a trash chute, but he didn’t have the time right now. He would rather be talking to Hux.

Mitaka was in the sickroom, sitting beside the bed in the chair Kylo usually occupied, and they both looked sharply up when he entered. Mitaka greeted him, and, to his complete surprise, so did Hux. He croaked brokenly, “Hello, Ren.”

 It was oddly good to hear the voice that had irked him for three years. Kylo realized that the bandage on Hux’s throat was gone, and there was no visible scar from where the blaster bolt had struck him. Save for the hospital clothes, he was looking much more like himself.

“Hello,” Kylo said. “Are they letting you talk now?”

He gave a curt shake of his head and laid a finger over his lips: Don’t tell anyone.

“Breaking the rules, General Hux?” Kylo laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Hux wrinkled his nose, but shrugged. He gestured to Mitaka, who handed Kylo’s datapad to him. He wrote to him: It’s best I don’t speak much yet, but it’s growing very tedious to be silent.

“Understandably,” Kylo said. “Did you read the notes from the dinner already?”

Yes. We got what we needed from them. Well done. Hux gave him a quick once-over before adding: That attire looks good on you. You should wear more color.

“You’re one to talk,” said Kylo, cocking one eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you wear anything but your uniform, which is black.”

Hux conceded: Fair enough.

Kylo chuckled and said, “Maybe we both need a little more color.”

Mitaka glanced between them with wide eyes, his mouth hanging ever-so-slightly open. He had never seen them behave genially with each other, Kylo thought; he was never here when they worked at night. He supposed it was a bit of a shock. What the rest of the crew would think was beyond him for now.

“I think that’s all for now, Lieutenant,” Kylo said. “You’re excused.”

Mitaka scrambled to his feet, holding his datapad to his chest. “Of course, sir. Goodnight, sir, General.” He fled the room, the door hissing closed behind him.

You still frighten him, Hux typed when Kylo had taken up the chair beside him.

“So do you,” Kylo told him.

Hux laughed, making a little sound for the first time in days. What a pair we make, Ren.

“Kylo.” It was out before he thought to hold it back. “You can call me Kylo, if you want to.”

The look he got in response was unreadable, but not averse, it seemed. He waited, almost changing the subject to the dinner, but then Hux said, “Kylo,” and he offered a small smile. Warm pleasure suffused him, and he grinned back.

“May I call you—”

Hux shook his head, typing: I hate my first name, and nobody but my father ever called me by it. He rolled his lower lip under his teeth, considering. But perhaps it’s time I reclaim it. Fine. Use it, if you must, but preferably not where anyone else can hear.

“I can agree to that,” said Kylo.

Hux raised his brows: Well?

Kylo added, “Armitage.”

Hux sighed and picked up his datapad again. What messages do we have tonight?

Pulling up in the inbox on his own datapad, Kylo began to scroll through them. “The radar technicians have been insisted on new equipment to manage the navigation updates that we put in place last week. I’ve been stalling them, but we’ll have to deal with it eventually.”

Stalling them? Why? If they need updated consoles or software, they should have it. There’s no reason to skimp on them and compromise our navigation.

Kylo said, “Their budget is already tight, according to the purser.”

You have the means of correcting that, Hux wrote. He continued on, insistent that the techs get what they were demanding. If he thought that was what was right, Kylo would go along with it.

After, they moved on to the next messages, working through them steadily. Hux got up halfway through their two hours, stretching his shoulders and arms, and pulling the hem of his shirt up to reveal a stripe of pink skin at his belly. His middle was soft and Kylo wondered, ridiculously, if he was ticklish. Hux caught him staring and blinked at him curiously. He fiddled with the hem of the shirt, keeping Kylo’s attention fixed there. Kylo didn’t bother to look away.

Coming around the side of the bed, Hux crooked his finger, indicating that Kylo should stand up. He did, uncertain what Hux was about. Hux came to the side of the chair and once again looked Kylo over from head to toes, though his gaze returned to Kylo’s hair. He lifted his hand and brushed it lightly over the braid.

“How?” he said.

Kylo asked, “How did I do it? Or how did I learn?”

“Both.”

“My mother taught me,” Kylo said. “She had a way with her hair. Sometimes maids did it, but she plaited it mostly herself. She used to play with mine. At least I remember her doing it sometimes.”

Hux was still standing close, and he gestured for Kylo to continue.

Kylo wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear, but he just started talking. “I didn’t always see a lot of her, but she used to give me baths in the big tub in our apartments. I had my own room with my own refresher, but she always took me to hers. She would sing, but she was terrible at it.” He huffed. “I inherited that from her.

“Sometimes she would just sit on the side of the tub and brush my hair while I played with whatever toys would float. I always liked that. It relaxed me. After I left for school, nobody touched it again.”

Taking him by the upper arms, Hux pushed him back and down until he sat again. Kylo watched in his peripheral vision as Hux moved behind him. A few seconds later, he felt a gentle tug at the elastic band that held his braid in place, pulling it free. Hux began to slowly undo the plaiting, until the hair—surely crimped and wavy from being tied up—was free again. Kylo was holding the armrests of the chair tightly, unaccustomed to being touched like this, but the tension began to leave him as Hux started to comb his fingers through his hair. Again and again he did it, sometimes scratching his scalp with his short fingernails and making Kylo shudder. Kylo wanted to ask him why he was doing it, but it felt too good to interrupt. So, he just sat in the chair, tranquil as Hux touched him.

They said nothing for long minutes, until finally Hux brushed the crown of Kylo’s head a last time and moved away. He set a course for the bed again, but as he passed Kylo by, Kylo caught his hand to stop him. Kylo wanted to say a hundred things: he wanted to thank him; he wanted to ask why; he wanted to know what this meant for them. But he said nothing; he didn’t think they needed the words just now. He rose to his full height and, pulling Hux in by the hand he held, kissed him.

There was no questioning whether he had done wrong; Hux went into the kiss with fervor. He pressed his mouth hard against Kylo’s, putting both of his arms around Kylo’s neck, fingers once again in his hair. He wasn’t as tame this time, however; he took a handful and pulled possessively.

Sucking at Hux’s lower lip, Kylo encouraged him to open his mouth. Hux, it seemed, was more than willing. He opened for Kylo’s tongue, and Kylo swept in, tasting him. The sound he made sent a shiver of approval down Kylo’s back, and he answered with a low growl of his own, hauling Hux against his chest. Hux deepened the kiss further, until they were delving into each other. Kylo would be sure to make his mark; he wanted Hux to remember and to crave this again the minute they parted.

And when they did, Hux was flushed and his eyes had the glassiness of the well-kissed. Kylo stroked a hand down the curve of his back. “More?” he asked simply.

Hux nodded once and Kylo ducked down to kiss him again. They were greedy and eager, Kylo aware of every place where they were connected: from chest to chest and Hux’s thighs against Kylo’s; their arms around each other. It was as passionate as any of their arguments, though Kylo much preferred this to shouting matches in the passages. He smiled against Hux’s mouth as he thought of what kind of scene this would cause on the bridge, rather than a fight. He liked the idea a lot more than he expected to.

Hux’s little nips at his lip, though, kept his focus firmly in the present. He could worry about all the places he wanted to kiss him later. He was so wrapped up in Hux’s taste and the smoothness of his mouth that he barely heard the door as it slid open.

“Master—oh,” said Medic Andan.

Kylo and Hux both turned to see her standing in the doorway, agog. That shock melted away in seconds to a decided smugness.

“Forgive the interruption,” she continued, “but it’s time for Master Ren to leave. You need your rest, General.”

Once in his life, Kylo might have slunk out of the embrace, embarrassed, but he felt none of that now. He moved back half a pace, but he looked Hux in the eye and said, “Goodnight, Armitage.”

Hux, still a little dazed, stood by the bed as Kylo left the room on Andan’s heels.

“You saw absolutely nothing,” Kylo told her as they walked back toward the medic’s station. “This doesn’t leave the room.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “If you think you can keep a lid on this, you’re lying to yourself. I won’t go telling everybody on the ship, mind, but it’s going to get out sooner or later.”

Kylo recognized that—and was satisfied to know it—but he said, “It will happen on our terms, not yours. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a lazy salute. “See you tomorrow at the same time, eh?”

Kylo frowned at her, but nodded. “Take good care of him,” he said.

“What do you think I’ve been doing? But”—she snorted—“I’m not about to give him the kind of special treatment you apparently have been.”

Kylo flashed her his teeth. “I know. No one else will.” Turning on his heel, he strode out of the medbay, almost flying from the high of making Hux his.

****

Kylo didn’t have a great deal of time to think about what he would say to Hux the next night when they were together again—because something had to be said about their kiss—as he and Mitaka bounced between meetings and troop inspections that morning. His thoughts weren’t far from Hux, though; he had to ask officers to repeat themselves more than once during a briefing as his mind drifted to the medbay and the solidness of Hux’s body in his hands.

“Are you all right today, sir?” Mitaka asked as Kylo was leaving the ‘fresher during a short break between meetings. “You seem distracted.”

Kylo considered skirting around the truth, but in the end just told Mitaka: “I kissed Hux last night, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Mitaka’s datapad shattered on the floor at his feet as he dropped it. He was staring at Kylo, dumbstruck. “You...did?” he squeaked. “W-What happened? What did he do?”

Almost laughing, Kylo replied, “Kissed me back.” Darkly, though with a vein of humor: “And pulled my hair.”

Face aflame, Mitaka fumbled for words. “Oh, I...um. That’s...good?”

Kylo smiled, half to himself. “It’s good for me.”

“Well, ah,” Mitaka said, a little more put together as he straightened the collar of his uniform jacket. “I have to say I’m surprised, sir, but if it’s something that works for both of you, then that’s...nice.” Stooping down, he picked up his ruined datapad and looked at it forlornly.

“Go requisition another one,” Kylo said. “I’ll be able to handle this next holocall on my own.”

Mitaka nodded sharply. “Yes, sir. You can take it out of my pay.”

“Not a chance, Dopheld,” Kylo was quick to say. “You earn every credit you get twice over.” He set a hand on Mitaka’s shoulder and squeezed. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you. I’d have you promoted, but I know you won’t want to go.” Lifting an eyebrow, he asked, “Will you be happier to have Hux back?”

“Maybe, sir,” Mitaka replied, “but it’s been an honor working with you.”

Kylo inclined his head and let him go. “Get that datapad. And make sure it’s a new model, got it?”

“Y-Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” The little lieutenant scurried off down the passage, leaving Kylo to chuckle and shake his head.

Mitaka returned after the holocall with his new datapad and in perfect order. He even ventured a smile when he saw Kylo, saying, “I stopped by the medbay. General Hux is in very good spirits and asked how you are today.”

“What did you tell him?” Kylo asked.

“That you’re very well, sir, and looking forward to seeing him tonight.”

Kylo grinned. That, at least, was perfectly true. Gesturing for Mitaka to join him, they went to the officers’ mess for lunch and ate together. It earned them some curious looks, but Kylo ignored them and listened to Mitaka answer his questions about his homeworld and how he had gotten into the First Order. Mitaka seemed more than willing to talk about it, brightening when he spoke of his commendations during his training. He really was too good to be a glorified secretary, but if he liked what he did, who was Kylo to keep him from it?

The afternoon passed, with Kylo taking his requisite two hours to train with the knights before he returned to his other commitments. Phasma’s troopers looked good and she even gave Kylo a full report of their conditioning, just as she would have Hux. She didn’t look sideways at him anymore, which had him holding himself tall. Once he finished with her inspection, he finally got a chance to return to Hux’s quarters to work on some messages he had accumulated over the course of the day. He’d take his dinner there before heading down to the medbay at 2100.

He was barefoot and in only a black t-shirt, sitting at Hux’s desk, when the door to the room swished open. He expected to find Mitaka with some kind of urgent business, but when he looked up, there was Hux. He wasn’t in full uniform, but standard-issue plain trousers and a button-up shirt, with soft training shoes on his feet.

“Good evening, Kylo,” he said, his voice clear and seemingly fully recovered.

Kylo shot to his feet, conscious that he was sitting in Hux’s place, in his quarters, where Hux could see. “Hello,” he said. “You’re out of the medbay...two days early.”

Hux took a few steps closer, until he stood next to the front edge of the desk. He set the tips of his fingers on the transparisteel. “Yes, Andan released me ten minutes ago. I mended faster than expected, apparently.”

“Yes,” Kylo said lamely, uncertain what else to offer.

Hux peered around the room a bit, surely setting eyes on Kylo’s discarded clothes on the bed and his boots on the floor next to it. He had some flimsi sheets scattered over the desk and there were two abandoned mugs from afternoon caf on the side table: all marks of Kylo’s infiltration of his space.

“You’ve certainly made yourself comfortable,” he said.

Kylo swallowed, nervous. “I’ll go right away. I’ll clear everything out.”

Hux turned back and met his eyes. “There’s no need to rush, or to be worried about it. Mitaka had already told me you’ve been camped in my quarters.” The right corner of his mouth turned up. “But I didn’t realize you had colonized them.”

Kylo found himself rubbing his palms along his thighs, looking down. “It was just easier while you were gone.”

He watched as Hux came around the side of the desk, and thought he might be approaching him, but he went to the liquor cabinet and drew out a bottle.

“I’ve been dying for a drink for twelve days,” he said, regarding the label wistfully. To Kylo: “Have one with me?”

“Okay,” Kylo said.

Hux filled two glasses with three fingers of amber liquor and handed on to Kylo. He tipped his head toward the sofa across the room. “Sit.” It came as a command, and Kylo was helpless to refuse. He went to the sofa and sank down onto the firm cushions. Hux joined him a few moments later.

“To my return,” Hux said, holding out his glass for a toast.

“To that,” said Kylo as he clinked their glasses together and then drank. The liquor burned down his throat, almost making him cough.

He and Hux sat there eyeing each other for a few tense seconds before Hux said, “About last night…”

“What about it?” Kylo asked, too curtly. He winced, expecting Hux’s expression to harden, but was relieved when it didn’t.

Hux set his glass down on the side table and, reaching out, laid his hand on Kylo’s thigh. “I liked it. I was hoping we might do it again.”

Kylo was rid of his glass in seconds and leaned in, one palm cupping Hux’s cheek. This kiss wasn’t as urgent as the first—or the second. Kylo eased his mouth over Hux’s, both of them moving closer to each other by inches until they were pressed close and deepening the kiss. Hux made little approving sounds as Kylo pulled back and then moved in again, giving his lower lip short, open-mouthed nibbles. Hux laughed into the kiss.

“What?” Kylo murmured.

“You’re playing with me,” Hux replied, half-mumbled against Kylo’s lips. “Teasing.”

Kylo hummed. “Something wrong with that?”

“No” was the swift answer before Hux slid his fingers into Kylo’s hair and pulled him in for a longer, more intense kiss.

Both of them were breathing a little raggedly by the time they finally pulled back from each other, and Kylo’s mind was fuzzy with pleasure. He stroked a hand over Hux’s untreated hair, as he had wanted to do for some time.

“So, uh,” he began, “what exactly is this?”

Hux rubbed at his side idly, saying, “I’ve given that a bit of thought since yesterday and I believe I know what I would like to make of it. That is, of course, contingent upon what you want.”

“More of this,” Kylo said. “As much as we can.”

Hux chuckled. “I’m sure we can find the time, but I was considering something a little more...decided.” He sat back enough so that he could look Kylo in the face. “These past days we’ve gotten to know a great deal about each other. You surprised me with your aptitude for my work, and I appreciate that.” He moved his left hand up from Kylo’s side to his chest, resting it above his heart. “I’ve always admired you.”

Kylo huffed. “That can’t be true. You hate dealing with me, and you’ve never taken the Force seriously.”

“That’s not quite what I meant by ‘admire,’” Hux said, a bit quieter. “I found you handsome, is what I mean. It was very unfortunate, considering how badly we got on. I spent a great deal of time cursing myself for spending time thinking of you when you irked me so much.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Thinking about me how?”

Hux shot him a disapproving look. “Don’t make me regret telling you this, Ren.” He corrected himself: “Kylo.”

“Sorry,” Kylo said, suppressing a smile. “Go on.”

“Being in medbay offered me hours upon hours to think about things, and, if I must admit, you were often the subject of my thoughts.” He moved his fingers over Kylo’s chest, fussing with the material of his shirt. “I expressed to you that I wanted us to work together, and that’s true, but I also hoped you might want to spend time with me outside of our tasks. In a kind of different partnership. But you had never shown any inclination towards me that was more than a passing look. I wasn’t sure if I was hoping for too much.”

He was looking down at his lap, so Kylo put two fingers under his chin and raised his face. “I didn’t always see you like I do now, but if you want to make this something, then I’m willing.”

Hux’s eyes lit up, but he said, “I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time. I’m not sure I remember how to be a good partner.”

“We figured out how to do the work,” Kylo said, “so we can figure this out, too.” He rubbed his thumb over Hux’s chin fondly. “We’ll have to make sure to actually work when we’re together, even if this is a lot easier.” He gave Hux another quick kiss.

“Much easier, yes,” Hux said. “You don’t talk if your tongue is down my throat.” He snorted. “Listening to you for twelve days and being unable to say anything was torture.”

Kylo frowned at him. “You can’t leave well enough alone, can you? We were doing just fine and then you have to say that. You make me crazy, Hux.”

Hux shook his head slightly. “Weren’t you going to use my first name?”

“Fine, Armitage,” said Kylo. “You’re the most difficult and stubborn person I’ve ever known, but for some reason—stars know why—I think I like it. I’ll never get bored being with you.”

“We’re going to fight,” Hux said. “It’s inevitable.”

“I know,” Kylo sighed. “It’s how we are. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make up later.” He glanced at the bed, where his tunic and socks lay on the bedspread.

Hux’s smile was razor-sharp. “That’s very true.”

Already looking forward to what that would mean, Kylo latched onto Hux’s waist and yanked him into his lap. “I’m not really in the mood to work tonight. Are you?”

“We really should,” Hux said, “but the messages can wait.” He put his arms around Kylo’s neck and drew him in for a kiss.

Kylo had had the opportunity to get rid of him those twelve days before, on the dusty ground of a backwater planet, but he had stayed his hand. He had paid for it with long days and work he hadn’t understood—countless embarrassments before he managed to do something right. But if that had brought them to this very time, this very place, he would do it all again in a heartbeat. He had lived Hux’s life for a while and learned he didn’t want it, but he wanted a place in that life, for as long as Hux would have him.