Before all of this madness with the Emperor’s Rift, if anyone had tried to tell General Hux that he would be required to attend a New Republic fundraiser on Onderon, he would have laughed them all the way out the airlock. He used to have people to do these things for him, but with resources scarce, he had no choice but to get his hands dirty. Technically, this was not his first dance with espionage.
Which made it all the more humiliating to be waylaid by this complication. Hux was familiar enough with mind-altering drugs to recognize that he had been dosed with one; he’d read the reports on how they affected troop performance. Ones that caused these symptoms -- light-headedness, giddiness, the gradual onset of an odd (but not unpleasant) tingling sensation -- had merited a hearty “DENIED” from the General. He had a sneaking suspicion about which of these nerf-herders was to blame for his current state, but retribution would have to wait. His reinforcements drew near and he had to brief them before he was too far gone to do it properly. As his most infamous trooper approached, Hux’s chest swelled with relief. Not just relief, joy -- FN-2187, back again, wasn’t it nice how that worked out, there was n o need to worry about o h k r i f f,,, he was already losing it. Hux spoke quickly.
“FN-2187. Good. You’re here. This mission is of the utmost importance. I had hoped to complete it myself, but I fear I have become... compromised.” Hux inhaled a deep breath. His chest was so light! Had his lungs always felt this big? (Focus, Armitage!!) “You have two objectives. One: gather as much intelligence as possible on the New Republic without arousing suspicion. Two -- and this is crucial, soldier -- under no circumstances are you to consume anything on the dessert menu.”