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