Chapter Text
Kylo Ren has never dreaded any mission more than this one.
Difficulty has nothing to do with it. He's walked directly into oncoming blaster fire and deflected it with a mere thought. He's cleared entire enemy strongholds armed with nothing but his lightsaber. He would even raze Luke's academy to the ground all over again if it meant he didn't have to be here.
But Snoke said there’s only one person in the First Order for this job, and he's right.
"If it isn't Ben Solo Organa!"
The receptionist breaks into a broad smile, sincerity etched in the nascent wrinkles at the corners of her lips. Kylo’s steps echo across the marble floor as he approaches. He attempts to project the easy confidence of a man who belongs in the atrium of the New Republic senate.
"I'm here for Senator Tallance." He forces a smile. His hands are itching to tug at his hair, half-up in an Alderaanian braid that doesn’t cover his ears half as well as he’d like.
"Look at you!” Her delight speaks to memories of a boy Kylo has done his very best to kill. “Last time I saw you in here you were still swimming in hand-me-down vests. Now you're just as tall and handsome as your father."
"Hm." A datapad and stylus tremble against the desktop, Kylo’s anger manifested by the Force. He stills them with a measured breath. "Senator Tallance?"
"One moment, let me find you on the schedule." Casting a glance over her glasses, she scrolls through a list of appointments on her datapad.
"I'm not on the schedule." Kylo leans one arm on the desk, affecting the forced nonchalance that Ben had once thought would make him seem cool. "I’m sure you could find space for an old friend."
Her smile turns patronizing. "I'm sorry, honey, but you know how it goes. If you don't have an appointment—"
"You will take me to the senator. Immediately." Kylo pushes off the desk, flitting his hand in a subtle wave. Her face goes slack as she rises from her seat.
"Right this way, please."
She leads him from the sun-speckled atrium down a broad hallway lined with paintings of Rebellion victories and historical events from the former Republic. The Imperial period is largely absent. No tributes to the might of Lord Vader to be found here. It is much the same as it was the last time he was here — though, he reminds himself, Kylo has never been here before. That was Ben.
A deep sense of unease gathers in his chest as he walks. Memories lurk behind every pillar, traces of who he once was. His mother’s political career may be over, but her presence lingers in the bones of the senate. How many of her confidantes remain in these offices, faces who had once smiled patiently down at young Ben? And now it's Kylo's mission to twist those very threads of attachment into an agreement that will lead these people to a terrible fate. A monstrous repurposing. His thoughts turn to what General Hux is doing to Ilum, at this very moment unmaking the once-holy planet of the Jedi and remaking it into the abomination that is Starkiller Base.
Cold air prickles at Kylo’s skin. The Force knows that his presence here is wrong. He stuffs it down — a trick of the Light — and presses on.
Their destination is a plush-carpeted study where the senator holds court from behind an imposing wooden desk. A heated debate cuts short the moment the door slides open. The senator's current guests turn in their bantha leather armchairs, glaring in the direction of the interruption.
"Ben Solo Organa is here to see you, senator," the receptionist announces.
Senator Tallance frowns. His straw-brown hair has thinned considerably since Kylo last saw him, before the senator and his mother had a falling out over some piece of legislation or another. It had chilled their relationship to a cordial distance: not so close that Leia would be likely to confide in him about what became of Ben, but still with enough shared history that he might come to her aid in a time of need.
Or so Kylo hopes.
"I apologize for the intrusion, Senator. I'm here on my mother's behalf. It's urgent." Kylo strides past the two delegates and plants himself in front of Tallance's desk, rolling his shoulders back to stand tall in his navy blue formal robes.
"This is outrageous," objects a Mon Calamari delegate from his armchair. "This bill needs to be hashed out by the afternoon session. Tallance—"
"And it will be." The senator silences him with a wave, an eclectic collection of rings clinging to his fingers. "Take my aide and continue this discussion in one of your offices. I'll be along shortly."
Muttering objections under their breath, the collection of delegates departs the office. The receptionist follows, but not without stopping to chat with one of the guards stationed outside. Only once the door has closed behind her does Tallance speak.
"Ben, this had better be either very important or very quick."
Armitage Hux is not supposed to be on Hosnian Prime. And he's definitely not supposed to be wearing the uniform of New Republic security.
He catches himself worrying at the cobalt blue sleeves, uneasy without his familiar gloves, and locks the storage closet where he’s stowed the uniform’s previous owner — or rather, what’s left of him. Peering across the courtyard from the parking structure, Hux watches in disbelief as Kylo Ren walks in the front door of the New Republic senate.
Dread sinks deep into Hux’s stomach. He’s right to have come.
That he is here at all is so unlikely, so absurd, so utterly against protocol that he can scarcely justify it to himself, except to say that this is simply what happens when Kylo Ren gets involved. That possibility had not even crossed Hux’s mind when he informed the Supreme Leader that New Republic navy had been spotted sniffing around one of the Starkiller construction subcontractors. He had been prepared to follow up with Intelligence about plans to divert the navy’s attention elsewhere, whether by diplomatic manipulation or a more forceful diversion.
Snoke’s subsequent decision to send Ren on a diplomatic mission had taken Hux so wholly by surprise that he’d let slip, “Do you think that’s wise?” The Supreme Leader had responded with an invisible vice grip around his neck — all while Ren stood beside him, to his great humiliation.
"You have your task, General," Snoke had said as Hux fought for air. "Focus your energy on the construction and defense of Starkiller Base. I leave the matter of the New Republic to my apprentice. I do not doubt that he will deliver."
Hux certainly does. He had not said as much, once Snoke's hologram had fizzled out and left the two of them alone, but he didn't need to. Ren knew.
Instead Hux had said, tensely: "You know that failure will affect much more than Leader Snoke's opinion of you. If the New Republic navy is permitted to continue its investigation, there will be nothing that I or any other officer in the First Order can do to prevent an assault on Starkiller Base."
Ah, and what would be Ren's snarky rebuttal this time? "Then you'd better not choke," or maybe "Don't waste your breath"? Ren always seems to think he is terribly clever. But Ren had simply let it drop and walked out the door.
Ren’s silence unnerved Hux more than anything he could possibly have said, and perhaps that is what drove Hux to follow him into the heart of enemy territory himself. Tailing Ren is hardly among his duties. By all rights his attention should be elsewhere. But if Snoke expects him to simply trust Kylo Ren with a delicate diplomatic mission that could leave his greatest achievement vulnerable, well, then he is not as all-seeing as he thinks he is.
Hux wipes the sweat from under the brim of his stolen white domed helmet. The chin strap chafes at his sideburns and leaves his face visible for all — including Ren — to see.
But Ren has disappeared into the senate building, so Hux straightens up and walks after him.
He resists the impulse to salute as he approaches the guards at the door, replacing it with a short nod of acknowledgment. Their conversation tapers off as one guard's gaze lingers on him. He pretends not to notice, pulse accelerating slightly as he inserts his stolen code cylinder into the security checkpoint. Their interest wanes when the security check pings a green light.
Hux strides into the atrium of the senate, a wide chamber lined with columns and sculpture clearly designed to evoke nostalgia for the Republic. Casting around a searching glance for Ren, Hux is horrified to spot him chatting with the receptionist.
Even as burnished bronze columns and harried aides fill the space between them, his gaze sticks to Ren. The receptionist seems pleased to be speaking to him, which in and of itself is evidence that Ren's mind tricks are at play. Not once has Hux ever found Kylo Ren to be charming.
The receptionist stands suddenly and leads Ren down a nearby corridor. Hux follows at a distance, falling into step behind a group of aides immersed in conversation. Ren eventually arrives at a door framed by two guards in the same blue uniform Hux has stolen. Before Ren follows the receptionist inside, he pauses to throw a glance over his shoulder.
Hux pivots sharply, feigning interest in the nearest painting to angle his face away from Ren. He finds himself staring at a bright explosion of brushstrokes on a velvet-black sky. He does not need the caption to identify the pieces of the second Death Star, destroyed before it even completed construction. It feels like an ill omen, but Hux does not believe in omens, so he takes it as an insult instead. Overwrought Republican propaganda. When he looks back again — his expression significantly more sour — Ren has disappeared into the office.
Adrenaline speeds his crisp walk after Ren. Possibilities flit through his mind — does Ren mean to assassinate a key target? Hux itches to follow him inside and find out, but he couldn't possibly maintain his cover in such close proximity. He approaches the guards stationed at the door.
"Hey." The feel of the greeting in Hux’s mouth is all wrong, but he presses on with forced familiarity. "You look like you could use a caf break. I'm here to cover."
The two guards exchange a puzzled look.
"My break's not for another hour," one says, but a glimmer of hope lights the other’s eyes as he glances from his partner to Hux. Hux latches onto his uncertainty.
"What command doesn’t know won’t hurt them," Hux says, recollecting the exact words from a disciplinary report he once filed shortly before sending a stormtrooper to reconditioning.
"I could take a quick ten," the second guard says, clearly eager to take advantage of the opportunity.
Ten might not be enough — but then again it might, if all Ren plans to do is introduce some unfortunate senator to his lightsaber. Hux takes the second guard's place just as the door flies open again. Several disgruntled delegates hustle out along with Ren's receptionist friend.
Hux turns away from the open door, feigning a cough into his hand to hide his face from Ren. His performance, apparently, is a little too convincing. The receptionist stops to ask if he's "okay," a word Hux has never used in his life.
"Yes— allergies," he mutters, not daring to straighten up until the door has closed behind her. "It's nothing. Go."
That must have been a bit too sharp, because the compassion on her face falters, but she goes. Hux catches the other guard looking at him with a slight frown. He fakes a smile, his hand drifting a little closer to his stolen blaster, and stands fully alert for any threat as he waits — whether that comes from his false friend, or from Ren.
"It is important."
Kylo looms over the desk, staring down at the seated Senator Tallance.
The senator’s robes are a light fabric better suited to the warmer climate of his home world than Republic City, and for the senate floor the modest thread count is utterly pedestrian. The observation may benefit him in the moment, but Kylo can't help but resent that he still retains this knowledge from his life as Ben. Yet it is those days spent trailing behind his mother’s flowing robes, the senator’s small and gawky shadow, that prepared him to undertake this mission as her enemy.
"I'm here on behalf of the Resistance," he says, not fully able to tame the edge in his voice as he speaks the last word. "General Organa urges you to reconsider your stance on the naval resourcing bill."
Tallance emits a humorless little laugh. "Her and everyone else. What do you think they left angry about?" He gestures after the departed delegates, his rings clinking softly.
"More than they admit." Kylo speaks with a dry edge.
He lets Tallance believe it's a joke about the senate, which it is, but it's also true. Kylo doesn't need to know anything about pending legislative battles to sense the hidden daggers those delegates are poised to bare. Most of those daggers are metaphorical, but not all. Oddly, for a moment he could have sworn that he had sensed General Hux with them. But that isn't possible. No, what he sensed had only reminded him of Hux, Hux and that dagger up his sleeve which he thinks no one knows about. It's amusing. His belief that it would make an ounce of difference if he chose to turn it on Kylo is so misplaced that it's almost endearing.
"Truer words never spoken," Tallance replies. "But let's cut to the chase. What does she want, and what is she offering?"
"The New Republic Navy is weak," Kylo says bluntly. "The Resistance hunts the First Order because the navy won't. Fine. But pirates and spice lords prey on the Outer Rim. The Resistance can't fight both. Not alone. The navy needs teeth. It needs the authority to hunt these criminals beyond our borders."
It's a lot of misdirection and a little bit of a gamble. His argument has to superficially benefit the Resistance, or his cover is blown. But give the New Republic navy too many teeth, or too sharp, and Kylo's strategy will backfire. If it works as planned, as expected — sending them off chasing pirates will just spread the navy's already thin resources even thinner, and they’ll be too busy to track a handful of suspicious materials shipments to Starkiller Base.
"You're not the first one to come to my office and ask for that. You're not even the first today." Tallance rises and pours two glasses of dark amber liquid from the decanter by his window. Light creeps through the horizontal blinds, the vibrant blue sky outside beginning to turn to golden afternoon light. The harsh shadows make Tallance look younger, sharper. "And still nobody's given me a single good reason why my constituents should hand over more tax money to a navy that everybody knows will leave the Mid Rim undefended whenever anyone so much as blinks at a Core world."
Tallance sits again and slides the second tumbler across his desk.
"I don't drink," Kylo says. He's unsure if Tallance shares the common misconception that Jedi abstain from alcohol but doesn't want to risk his cover. With a wave of his hand, the drink slides back towards Tallance.
"Your loss." Tallance’s gaze lingers on the glass that just moved itself. "This is quality liquor, Ben. Puts that Corellian swill your parents drink to shame. Well, it's here if you change your mind. But so far you haven't changed mine."
Kylo senses something akin to disappointment from him, a sense of unease he’s not able to pinpoint without delving into the senator’s thoughts. But he doesn't pry further. Tallance is blessed with both a strong mind and a strong liver, enough so that even after several such drinks he will know when a Force wielder is interfering. Ben learned that a long time ago. Kylo will reap the rewards today.
"I'll take your word for it," Kylo says shortly. "As for changing your mind, give it time. I haven't even asked after Senator Rana'oran yet. Or aren't you two still close?"
Tallance swallows a mouthful of liquor. His eyes linger on the roan liquid washing around the ice in his glass as he pauses to collect his thoughts. "No," he says finally, "we are not. You remember more than I thought from those functions with your mother, I see."
"Your secret was memorable," Kylo replies with a flicker of a smirk.
That’s not quite the truth. Half the politicians at any given function had been having affairs, and half of those had been with each other. The memorable part was the way Tallance's eyes had locked onto Ben's and his mind gone rigid. Few of the minds Ben casually skimmed out of boredom were sensitive enough to even notice his mild intrusions. He remembers the exhilarating feeling of being caught, the urge to rise to Tallance's challenge and pry more of this forbidden secret right from his mind. The senator's resistance would make it painful for him. He might even scream right in the middle of that frivolous soiree, and what could he possibly say to implicate Ben without admitting to the secret he held so dear?
Ben had been too weak to go through with it. His mother would know, even if Tallance said nothing.
But Ben is not here right now.
"It is still secret?" Kylo prods. "Don't worry, Senator. It will stay that way. If you cooperate."
"Little Ben Organa, all grown up and blackmailing senators. Your mother must be so proud. Does she know her little boy has sunk to these tactics?" Tallance sets his drink down, his mouth drawn into a tight frown.
Despite Kylo’s best efforts, the comment creeps under his skin. It’s been a long time since his mother has been proud of him. The weight of that knowledge should not make his chest ache, but it does. Snoke would chastise him for his weakness. Kylo wraps himself in anger, uses it to shield himself from the call of the Light Side. He seethes at Tallance for inflicting these feelings on him, for daring to bring his mother into this, until his urge to plunge his lightsaber through the senator’s heart is so powerful he has to stop and remind himself that the Order needs Tallance's vote.
"Don't get me wrong, I'd rather that stayed a secret,” Tallance goes on, “but a decade-old affair's just not enough to sell out my planet on this one. The blowback from that won't be nearly as bad as the kind of tax hike this bill is asking."
"Then widen the navy's domain and cut the funding," Kylo says, and he knows immediately from the way Tallance's eyes snap onto his that this concession was too easily given. "Or I’ll have to come up with something more recent."
He raises his hand, large fingers outstretched towards Tallance's forehead. Calling on the Force, he exerts a faint but building pressure. The ice in Tallance's drink begins to clatter.
"Fine. Stop," Tallance says sharply, his voice rising for the first time in their conversation. "I'm sure we can work something out. I'll tell my aides to trim what they can but make sure the bill passes. Your mother will be satisfied with the outcome."
Kylo withdraws the pressure, but he does not relax as he watches Tallance type a message into his datapad. Tallance's agreement is too easily won. He recalls the warning glance Tallance gave Ben — he was not so easily cowed, then, so why now? Kylo is stronger, but Tallance still believes he's talking to Ben.
Unless.
Tallance’s rings click softly as his fingers dance over the datapad. His hands are trembling.
Kylo presses into Tallance's mind. The senator winces, but Kylo pushes through the man’s pain and follows a well-hidden spike of panic to its source.
"You knew I was coming," Kylo says softly. Tallance drops the datapad, clutching his temples as Kylo presses deeper. "She did tell you.”
Numbness bleeds out from his chest and spreads to every corner of Kylo’s awareness. Of course she did. It seems inevitable now, unspeakably naive that he ever expected otherwise — that shrinking hope that this tactically brilliant woman would leave such a weapon in his hands. That maybe the woman who had hidden the truth of Vader’s lineage from her own son would also hide that son’s descent into darkness. Out of shame, he tells himself, to drown out the whisper that sounds so painfully like Ben: Out of hope.
Kylo's last glimmer of hope flickers out as his gaze falls on the abandoned datapad.
“And now you've told her."
"I— I'm sorry." Tallance backs away. He stumbles on his chair.
"Not as sorry as you're about to be!"
Kylo's blade is in his hand. A flash of searing red light slices Tallance's lovely wooden desk into pieces. Kylo thrusts his free hand to the side and sends its smoldering remains flying into the wall. The datapad sparks on the floor, its screen shattered.
"Please, Ben—!"
Kylo silences his final desperate shriek with a lightsaber through the chest. The horrible sound will not be contained in these walls. Already he hears the soft hiss of the door opening behind him.
He whirls around. A pair of guards is across the threshold before Tallance's body hits the floor.
Kylo advances.
But before he can land a blow, his first target falls dead. Acrid smoke rises from a blaster wound in the middle of his back. Kylo pivots towards the other guard, bewilderment beginning to curtail his battle rage, but the moment their eyes lock he sees red.
"You!"
Even dressed in an enemy uniform, there's no mistaking the familiar expression of rage and disgust that could only belong to General Hux.