Chapter Text
Slash! Grind!
Luke’s foot leaves no footprints on the salted surface, Kylo doesn’t notice, his rage flooding his blood, flooding his brain. He will kill this man, he will kill them all, he is the Supreme Leader, and no-one holds his leash.
Nothing else matters anymore, only death and victory.
Aboard the Freighter Ship Alcona.
“Sir, it’s been confirmed, Snoke was murdered an estimate forty minutes ago, and 90% of their military power has unloaded on the mining system Crait.”
Crudely scanned images are slapped on the table, Ellor’s black eyes survey the photos. This is what they’re defeating the First Order with: printed photos on paper, uploaded by a spy buried in First Order upper middle management.
He sees Snoke’s body, rendered in half at the waist, his decaying flesh already sinking in on itself. Another image displays the red guard, dismembered and scattered about the room. The last print takes him longer to process exactly what he’s looking at, he sees the low-quality scanned scribbled note at the bottom of the page.
“Have we absolutely confirmed this final image? The splintered ship?” He picks up the page with his good hand and looks to Cyril, she’s sweating and still panting from the haste she’d taken in bringing these to him, black non-descript coat perfectly in place, brown locks as they always are in a slicked-back bun, there’s a single strand fallen out of place resting on her pale cheek. Her brown eyes are wide, pupils blown likely from adrenaline.
“Confirmed by multiple sources, Sir. One of the resistance ships tore into it at lightspeed, while their remaining armada escaped to the surface.”
His eyes widen, she sees the desperation on his face and can’t help the gasp that comes from her chest as he roughly grasps her hand and tears his way to the bridge, pulling her behind him. Before Ellor speaks into the microphone, he locks eyes with Cyril and squeezes her hand, then letting go, relays his orders. Cyril gestures to the tech to transmit him on all comms.
“All agents, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for. The bulk of the enemy forces are unloaded on a single system surface, and their supreme leader lies dead in a destroyed ship. I repeat, Snoke is dead, and they are vulnerable. All teams to carry out final stage mission, no exemptions. Team Delta 9 is with me, we will join and assist teams Alpha 6 & 7 in meeting the Supremacy at their next berth. Be prepared to meet them on Crait as their flagship can no longer travel at light speed, however, as always be prepared for surprises. Take all precautions necessary, all teams are ordered to keep comms open for the next three days without fail.”
Ellor Candine looks at his bridge of officers, smugglers, spies, combatants and support staff. They are watching him with wide eyes and dry mouths, he can practically hear hearts beating out of chests from every warm body in the room. The sheen of lightspeed dances outside the bridge window, and he steels himself in the pause. Cyril sees her leader like she never has before, the burgundy and blue of his Nabooian cloak are just as bright as they’d always been, one hand missing a finger and a chunk out of his wrist rests on his thigh while he speaks into the comm microphone, maintaining eye contact with those about the bridge. His shoulders are steady, but his legs are jittery. She sees a bead of sweat drip down his neck under cropped black hair. She brushes away the fear at seeing him this way.
“This is the moment we take it back.” His voice carries out through all levels of the ship, slowly those seated find themselves standing to attention at his voice’s call. “These people destroyed four planets in the blink of an eye, cultures and histories and peoples that can never be healed. Today, right now, is the time, and we will win. We will win quietly, we will win while screams of fear ring out from the enemy, we will win as blood stains our clothes and faces. We will win as they gnash their teeth and spew hatred and decay. We will win while any number of our brethren in this fight fall today, or tomorrow, or the next day. We will win while our bodies scream for reprieve, and tears fall from our eyes. Today is the day we take back the law, and their precious seats of power and resource. Do not hold back. Think of your families, of your loved ones, of the ones who owe you money and feel empowered not to pay you back while tyranny rules!” He hears a whisper of sniffled laughter from somewhere behind him, and a wretched, manic smile stretches across his face. He’s been anxious for this, for the long-awaited moment of blessed unashamed action. Years of patience and preparation fuel his words, he feels everything in him swell with desperate pride and fury as he proclaims:
“We will win for all of those who have given their lives to this fight, for those who paid the ultimate price to never see the brighter day. If we can’t do this now, we may as well have never tried. Now is the time! We. Will. Win!”
Voices ring out on the bridge and across the galaxy, as pilots in cockpits vibrate with nerves; agents with shaking hands listen on factory floors; local government officers and spies with comms in their ears smile serenely at the complacent and passive enemy; men and women and children with baited breath and hands on pistols and daggers, they all listen to his words and feel power surging through them.
“We! Will! Win!!!!” Ellor hears the shout and exclaims with a roar, the rage of the moment. When the voices die down he takes a deep breath, and returns a final time to the microphone.
“All agents, good luck.”
*
Rey catches her breath as she helps those with injuries onto the Falcon. Having felt the moment of Luke’s death, and seen Leia’s reaction to it, she feels a tear gather in her eye, both her hands too busy to do anything about it, she twists her face angrily as it tracks down her cheek. Her entire body is shaking with the adrenaline of the insanity that has been the last 24 hours.
Kylo Ren.
Ben.
She can’t reconcile what she feels to be true with what has happened before her eyes. He helped her, they helped each other, they fought together. But it turns out escaping a life and death situation together does not equal unanimous agreement on the paths of their lives.
She’s not heartbroken.
She’s not.
Damnit.
It’s not even been two hours since she picked herself off the bloodied floor of Snoke’s chamber in tears with near-burst eardrums and a bleeding nose; found the broken pieces of her lightsabre before a frenzied escape. She honestly didn’t even know if he was alive. She didn’t check.
What she did know was that he had every opportunity to start something new with her, but instead, focused on something to divide them yet again.
The dark side and the light.
The first order and the resistance.
Who owns a fucking lightsabre.
It’s enough to drive a girl mad.
*
Kylo watches from aside the command ATAT as the last piece of the Supremacy crashes pathetically to the surface. He feels the ground under his feet rumble with the impact, and what must have been a blast of salt and energy over four hundred meters away is but a slight wind in his hair when it reaches him.
He lets out an angry breath and tilts his head back, closing his eyes, telling himself today was not a complete and utter failure; he’s got Snoke off his back now. Even if it cost him the only woman who was worthy of his love. His face scrunches up, as do his fists, and he opens his mouth and screams for what feels like the tenth time today. He wrenches his sabre off of his belt and ignites it purely for the satisfaction of feeling the vibration in his arm ground him, and the audible pulse and growl of the blade join his scream.
Are those, Ties fighters he hears?
He opens his eyes in the split second before he is forced to the ground by something large and sharp, but not sharp enough to break skin. Another, more pitiful scream is torn from his throat as his lightsabre is ripped from his hand. He tries with all his might, but he cannot bring it back. Something more powerful than his connection to the force is overpowering him, and he sees red. As he scrambles and thrashes, trying harder than he’s ever tried before to reach out with the force, he feels an increasing pressure on his temples.
Like an animal, he snarls, snaps, shouts insults and slurs and uses all his limbs, his core, his jaw even, to try overpower whatever is on his back with his command of the force. He hears footsteps, voices sound muffled as impossible fury and effort clouds every sense.
“Let him keep trying. The harder he tries, the more effective the drain.”
His vision is limited as a rough hand grabs the back of his head and pushes it into the salt. He feels his nose break at the impact, feels the dribble of blood wet his teeth. A bind covers his eyes then, and he hears the telltale sound of machinery powering down before something covers his ears, and all he can do is soundlessly rebel against his captors.
“I am the supreme Leader!”
“Bow before me, and I will consider sparing you!”
“I will kill you slowly, then I will find all those that you love, and torture them until they thank me as life leaves their bodies!”
He can’t even hear himself screaming, knowing that it will be unpleasant for whoever in the universe has the unmitigated gall to do this to him. He knows, that as soon as his command of the force returns to him, he will escape, and he will kill these dogs. They will feel his rage, and nothing else.
Ellor Candine watches as helmeted officers in team Alpha 7 display their mastery over the ancient machinery forgotten by all but the resolute and staunch Mandalorian people. Kylo Ren is forced to the ground and his eyes and ears are covered, he continues bleating his threats, until suddenly falling silent, and limply his limbs sprawl at uncomfortable angles atop the ruined salt surface. His quilted black cloak looks ridiculous as it lays on his legs, the fixed shape of the tailoring is obvious, billowing up from the ground unnaturally.
“Keep him contained, he will travel on my ship, ensure that he remains unconscious for the entire journey.”
The officer in command of this team nods, and they continue with the giant machine sticking out of the bottom of their ship a few tens of feet in the air. Truly opportune that the Supreme Leader was outside with his eyes shut for their entire descent to the surface, and his team were able to efficiently sneak up on him much easier than he’d anticipated.
It was all going much too well. Ellor felt the shiver of heightened awareness run through him, and mentally recounted the teams and their locations, trusting, hoping, that they would all be as successful as he.
He strode to the powered-down command ATAT and gestured for those un-occupied with restraining Kylo Ren from Alpha 7 to accompany himself and Delta 9 into the command centre.
He looked to the horizon before ascending the ramp into the walker, and watched with a grim expression as multiple legions of armed combatants landed around the remains of the decimated grounded Supremacy, funnelling into the ship with incredible speed. The distant sound of blaster fire carried over the wind, sounding so very small and far away.
Ellor heard the contents of the command cockpit before he saw it, and paused in the hallway, listening to his officers report their findings on comms and sweep the man-able areas.
“All first order operatives in the cockpit are deceased. Commander Armitage Hux identified, confirmed suicide, over.”
When he steps into the command floor, his eyes wash over Hux’s crumpled body, his back leaning against the wall, head rolled back at a shocking angle over his shoulder, eyes staring emptily through the window to the blue sky above. Ellor steps in the growing pool of Hux’s blood on the cold steel floor, as he watches a bound unconscious Kylo Ren be carried into his ship. He can’t help but smile as the doors shut behind the Supreme Leader.
*
Rey paces through the halls of the Falcon. Unable to sleep, unable to sit still. Exhausted, but her mind blindingly awake. She isn’t even solidly thinking about anything, but the last weeks events are swimming through her mind like fog and slicing rain. It hurts, and it’s completely unnavigable right now. She tries lying down. Nope. Sitting isn’t right either. Pacing it is then. Eventually she’ll fall tired enough to stop moving. She hopes.
Thudding footfalls sound behind her, and she recognises Finn’s heavy breathing, and stays facing the other way, awaiting whatever bad news is sure to be heard at this late hour.
“I know you’re tired, but you’ll regret not coming and listening to this right now.”
She turns, only slightly, it’s the first time in a few hours that she’s heard him speak without hearing her own name.
“Good news?” She’s still facing the other end of the passage, and she feels his hand at her elbow, pulling her gently.
“Very.”
The voice coming through the com is staticky, as if it’s being broadcast using tech from over a century ago. It makes the voice sound tinny. It’s completely surreal.
“All Resistance fighters and bases: the First Order has fallen. The Supreme Leader is dead, and Kylo Ren has been arrested. Surface bases on Coruscant, Naboo, Kuat, Fondor, Corellia, Sulllust, Mon Calamari, Borleyas and Thyferra have been re-taken, all high ranking First Order officers have been captured and arrested. You are safe. Make next berth on Coruscant, the first meeting to rebuild the intergalactic seats of government will be held on 13:03:34. Return contact on this channel to confirm you have received this message.”
Rey shakes her head, Finn and Poe are staring grimly at the instrument panel. Leia’s gaze is trained on her hands, Rey watches as a tremor pass through her.
When Leia stands and responds into the microphone, Rey leaves the room and goes to bed.
She sleeps through the night.