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enkisstories · 5 months ago

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Mutiny on the Steadfast, Chapter 5 (second half)

Recap: The First Order has wiped Poe's memories and programmed him to think that he is one of theirs. He just left the conditioning and "returns" to life with his "comrades".

It was surreal to return to his quarters now after everything that had happened, Hux thought. Even stranger was the fact that he had Poe Dameron in tow. Strange and at the very least questionable. But one had to keep an eye on the “returned hero”, and who better than one half of the duo that come up with Project Stargleam in the first place?

“Here we are. Back at for what for all practical purposes counts as “home”.”

Hux strode over to the largest window, that ran from the floor to the ceiling. How he had missed windows! Whether it was the snow gently falling on Ilum’s forest region or the empty nothingness littered with stars, Hux enjoyed looking at nature, especially when an impenetrable plastic pane was between it and himself. Soon this sea of stars would be the last thing he’d ever see… But at least he had clawed his way out of whatever Pryde had originally planned for him and back to the galaxy. Not to the triumph he hadn’t just envisioned, but KNOWN it was waiting for him. That had proved out of reach, after all. Still, Hux had wrestled control over his life and death back. Not a total victory, but one against those it mattered.

Meanwhile Poe took in the furniture’s straight lines and the way the non-colors black and white were arranged with lots of grey tones between them. Despite everything looking devoid of life, those gradients gave the ensemble an organic quality. Casting his gaze over the room, Poe also noticed how every object was placed in relation to the others for maximum routing efficiency. Armitage’s suite might look like a pre-furnished officer’s quarter on first glance, but in reality was heavily customized, most likely with a battle plan in case of entering rebels in mind.

Where would the mini bar be? Ah, over there, built into the representative desk that Hux probably wrote a single letter by hand per year on, not his work desk with the neatly arranged drawing tools. A sheet of real paper was pinned to this second desk right now, partially covered by a graphic tablet. The device sported a pastel-blue case, the only hint at the apartment resident having something like a personality that went beyond enjoying to draw blueprints.

“Yeah, home”, Poe repeated. “But right now home, for me, is where-ever you are. Bring out the good stuff already, before I fall in love with you from you being the only familiar cornerstone in all of this!”

Hux nodded. He desperately needed a change of clothes, but apparently first had to feed that overgrown toddler of a “best friend” of his. He walked to the desk, put his finger on the sensor that controlled the mini bar’s door and then looked inside, curious what would still be there and what would have been raided by Kandia’s team when they had searched his rooms for incriminating material.

Poe, too, was curious about the little chamber’s contents. He drew closer to the point where it would have been easy to just shove his head into the storage and turn the cooling unit up to maximum. While Hux indulged in that phantasy, Poe spotted a wrapped candy bar…

“Oh, that”, Hux dismissed the find. “Must have been in a present basked at one point.”

“Quite a few present baskets having amassed over time”, Poe remarked.

“Want one?”

Poe looked terrified at the offer. Not that Hux wouldn’t have enjoyed this sight, but what the heck was scary about a caramel blob encased in dark chocolate?

“I… have… forgotten… how these taste”, Poe gasped. Crouching next to Hux, he struggled to keep his voice from faltering. “Sounds adventurous, doesn’t it? Having your memories blocked after a run-in with the rebels. But in truth there’s nothing heroic or even funny to it. All the small things that made me, well, me… they’re gone. Part of me was killed by the rebel scum.”

“You are not gone. It was close, but you prevailed.”

“So what if I made it!” Poe yelled. “That doesn’t negate all the heartache the enemy is causing to other people while we kneel here! They are vermin, Hugs, all of them, holding nothing dear, dismantling civilization piece by piece!”

“Don’t toss my own words at me!” Hux shouted back.

Genuine anger. Of course, Poe thought, nobody liked to get told what they knew themselves only too well.

“…and now also personal bonds. I’m sorry, Hugs. I didn’t meant to hurt you. We wouldn’t argue without the Resistance.”

Hux dropped onto the carpet, where he then sat cross-legged, ill-befitting his station. He mumbled: “You’re a handful…”, then reached into the mini bar to retrieve a nougat slate that he tore into with his teeth, intent on eating the whole thing in one go. No drink was sufficient now to tide Hux over his new “bestie”’s extended presence, only a serious sugar rush would do. Besides, there was no need to save anything for later…

“Twenty questions, in reverse”, Poe demanded while munching on his candy bar. “Your favorite color is a light shade of blue. What’s mine?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Absolutely no! I won’t tell! If you’re playing mind games here, I won’t indulge you. But if you’ve genuinely forgotten, then good riddance!”

“I was just asking about a color, though? What could be so bad that you’d refuse to… Oh! Oh, I’m beginning to see! It’s…”

“Orange!” Poe exclaimed at the same time Hux ´gave in and in a resigned tone stated: “Orange.”

Shaking with laughter, Poe grabbed his alleged friend’s shoulder and in an attempt to put the nougat away Hux lost his balance. They keeled over. After his laughing fit had abated, Poe lay on his back, Hux on his side, with his right elbow planted onto the carpet, and his fist steadying his head.

“We smell”, he stated. “You of hospital, me of… everything. Go take a shower! By the time you’re finished, the droid with your replacement uniform and keycard for your new quarters should have arrived.”

The duo had just finished changing into clean, neatly ironed and form-fitting uniforms, when they heard the door signal. Hux pointed at the door and Poe innocently jumped at the implicit command, taking it for a friendly request. Alright, him ordering Dameron around was fun, Hux thought. He returned to the mini bar to fetch four glasses and a flask of corellian brandy. Only after placing the glasses down on a coffee table did Hux curse himself for having grabbed this exact number. Wouldn’t Poe wonder why he had known how many visitors were standing outside the door? Or that they weren’t delivering a message, but had come over to stay for a while? Good thing the pilot was turning his back to Hux right now.

Poe opened the door. Two men, one in his forties and looking battle-hardened, the other maybe the same age as himself, and giving the impression of an office drone, stood in the floor. Unlike Poe and Hux, they were wearing leisure outfits, the warrior – a stormtrooper, maybe? – a knee-length red vest held by a belt over a beige one-piece suit, and the clerk a long sleeved blue and black patterned tunic over black trousers that differed from uniform pants only ever so slightly.

“Come in, whoever you are. Not that I’d have the slightest idea.”

Poe looked over his shoulder.

“For all I know I just let two rebel spies into your suite, Hugs. Care to take a look at them?”

The warlike man offered his hand to Poe.

“FN-11, Captain of the FN corps. We’ve interacted in passing only”, he “reminded” the pilot. “You’re way more likely to identify me by my helmet than my face.”

“As should be, I guess?”

FN-11 nodded. “Good! You’re learning.”

“That’s how it feels, yeah”, Poe replied with a grin. “As if I was a mercenary you grabbed from a random bar. Fortunately there’s a… call it knowing inside me, a certainty that I belong here, maybe not on this particular ship, but to the First Order. Otherwise I’d start doubting everything and everyone.”

Poe now turned to the other visitor and extended his hand. This man carried himself with confidence, but also seemed to be somewhat shy. Not averse to socializing, just the type that needed others to take the first step before coming out of his shell.

“Commander Masir Trach”, FN-11 introduced the man. “Otherwise known to you as a disembodied voice from the bridge while you’re leading your squad.”

“I was on the Finalizer”, Trach said. “Where we… met? Or maybe we met earlier already, but our mission to Jakku was where you left an impression on me, Sir.”

In Poe’s back Hux flashed Trach a grin. The scanner officer had told the truth, Poe Dameron had, indeed, left an impression that day. It was hard to forget the daring escape, during which Poe had very nearly knocked out Lord Ren with a stray fuel hose dangling behind the Tie-fighter he had stolen. Trach had suffered nightmares about what would have happened had Ren gotten hit, the ways he’d expressed his displeasure.

Hux poured the brandy and took a seat. The hand holding the glass raised, the other placed on the armchair’s armrest and one leg slung over the other, he looked as if he was holding court. Meanwhile Poe wasn’t one for sitting still. He followed FN-11 around, who for some reason inspected the suite as if he was conducting a razzia.

The Captain’s gaze fell on the drawing Hux had left on his desk. It consisted of shapes that were reminiscent of starship silhouettes, arrows and numbers denoting units of time and distance. Poe knew he had seen similar schematics before, but couldn’t recall where exactly.

"What are you doodling there?" FN-11 asked straightforward. Without having to look Hux replied: "A new attack formation I theorized about. Against a mix of loosely clustered small and mid-sized targets."

"Ah, like the citizens’ fleet! That would give us a major edge”, Poe said. He gave the sketch a closer look and Trach, too, drew closer.

“Looks difficult”, the scanner officer commented.

Hux took a sip from his brandy glass.

"It's actually impossible, as I was told."

“What?” Poe turned around. "Not by a long shot! I could pull this off just fine. I agree that it takes talent in addition to experience, but don't try to tell me that we couldn't find five pilots in the whole damn First Order that would be up to the task!"

Hux rose. Still with the glass in his hand, he walked up to Poe and straightened up to his full height of 1,85 meters. Poe had never before paid attention to their height difference. In this moment it gave Hugs an imposing air.

"You could execute this as written?"

"Reliably."

"With a TIE-fighter?"

“With an X-Wing, if needed! You know I can fly everything!"

Hux, Trach and FN-11 exchanged glances. Project Stargleam essentially had boiled down to “Turn Dameron”, with little direction of what would happen afterwards, in what ways exactly the Resistance’s ace pilot would aid the First Order. The involuntary defector coming up with something on his own was certainly unexpected. This could be the moments the tides would turn, once again giving them the upper hand in this conflict.

"You need a pilot? You got one!” Poe emphasized. “Hey, what's the matter?"

"Last time you said that... forget it. I know you can fly anything."

Poe crossed his arms.

"I may have lost my memory, but one thing is crystal-clear: Being a General never was my thing. At heart I'm still a pilot. And this formation looks devastating, just what we need now. Lord Ren will agree that for the benefit of the First Order he'll HAVE to let me fly again!"

“We may not see him again”, Hux said, not even pretending to put regret into his voice. He picked the sketch up and pressed it into Poe’s hands, telling him: “Start training tomorrow. Fly, crush the Resistance and keep my legacy alive!”

“What do you mean?”

“You should go to your quarters now, Sir”, FN-11 said. He was already reaching for Poe’s arm, as if getting ready to escort the General out by force, but Poe wouldn’t have that. He pushed the hand aside, snarling: “Not before he told me how that was meant just now! It sounded ominous. And then again plainly obvious.”

Hux nodded.

“You asked me why I was to tense when we met again. Remember the leaker? The mole, who relayed confidential information to the Resistance? That was me.”

“You? But… why?”

Hux’s reply consisted of a single word, a name: “Ren.”

Poe saw the image of the black clad dark side adept with his flowing coat. He was looking at him, his expression, of course, unreadable because of the iconic helmet. There were fires in the background… on a desert world… at night… But then again, Poe had seen Kylo Ren before in a phantasy, so he couldn’t be sure if what he was “remembering” now was real.

“Did we ever burn down a village on a desert world?” he asked, straight to the point.

Hux’ reply came promptly:

“In fact, yes. You had just apprehended a rebel sympathizer and secured valuable intel. Ren praised you.”

“Yes. I now see us returning to the Finalizer. There’s that one stormtrooper…”

“You shouldn’t focus on a random trooper!” Hux quickly interrupted the recounting.

“He seems significant!”

“He is, only not in a good way. You’ll get filled in about the details later by the others.”

“Why not by you?”

Hux sighed.

“As I just TOLD you, I won’t be around for much longer. I committed high treason, but for rescuing you they offered me an honorable death and an actual grave.”

He had briefly considered to request his ashes to get fired into what remained of Ilum after the planet had collapsed, but then again, getting a nameplate was better. Not that anybody would miss Armitage Hux, but the marker would be there, difficult to overlook. Tombstones… Hux had always thought of them as statues for those who hadn’t managed to earn a real one, so they had to make themselves into the monument. It was pathetic, but all he had left, the best he could still aspire to. The fact that securing even this semi-dignified end had taken so much effort was sickening. A heaviness originating somewhere in the nose and working its way down into the throat turned Hux’ next words into a sort of croaking noise:

“That’s what FN-11 and Trach are here for tonight. To make sure.”

What was there to still not understand? Nothing. The facts were on the table, non-negotiable. Yet Poe exploded in the face of reality, shouting:

“I forgot everything! You people I worked with for decades are suddenly strangers to me! All I have is you, Hugs! I won’t lose you, too!”

“You still have the First Order”, FN-11 reminded the General. “That’s everything that counts.”

Poe shook his head, already a little calmer, but still very much in fighting mode.

“Listen, Commander Trach and Captain eff… look, I can’t seriously discuss this with you while you’re hiding behind a number. What’s your name?”

The man who had once gotten called “Trenay” was visibly taken aback by the request to reveal his birth name. He viewed his low number as a badge of pride, and in fact looked down on “Armitage Surname” for that one’s ties to a family, even though he recognized Hux’ qualities as a strategist and engineer. FN-11 would have thought twice, thrice, fourth and fifths to talk back to a merited General, but there was still so much rebel in Dameron, that the stormtrooper officer tossed everything he had ever wanted to toss at the surname-bearers at him:

“Can we even be certain of your loyalty?”

Poe balled his fists. The very reason he was here now, on this ship and in his position, was because the generation before him had suffered from the rebellion already, from the need to face down enemies that were incomprehensible, and whose sole drive seemed to be to destroy civilization, not even to dominate. His legacy wasn’t one of titles and wealth, but of people desperately trying to protect all that was good in the galaxy. Of course he’d had to take up this mantle, it was the right thing to do.

“You have to ask that? My parents fought in the battle of Yavin alongside Kylo Ren’s already!”

“Oh, yes, because that one was so mentally stable!”

The two men were yelling back and forth, neither willing to give in even by an inch. Hux and Trach watched intently without taking sides. If the Stargleam conditioning remained intact even under emotional duress, then they had scored a victory today.

Eventually Hux ended the argument with a three word command: “Stop it, Trenay!”

FN-11 backed down immediately, but his mimic unmistakably conveyed that the name revealed in this way wasn’t for Poe Dameron to use.

“I have something that will cheer you up, Sir”, he told Poe, and to Hux he whispered: “We need to test him.”

“Why? Afraid he might eat you alive?”

“Weren’t you the one who always was so fond of the scientific method? It’s simply part of the protocol. But, yes, I’d have to lie, if I told you I wasn’t worried in the least. Dameron is like us, a chip of the old boulder. But then you went and sold us out… I don’t want to find the First Order in that situation again. We need to make absolutely sure what we’re getting as your replacement.”

The foursome entered a room that had only a desk with a built in holoprojector in it and a tactical screen on the wall. The floor and lower section of the walls were covered in tiles, suggesting the regular need to clean away fluids. An interrogation chamber, maybe? And had Poe Dameron forgotten about the layout of a capital ship and it’s components, or had that never been important enough to him to memorize? The insecurity was growing… Poe had to make sure not to let doubt cause him to hesitate in a critical moment.

“Here!”

With that single word, Hux handed Poe a cross between a mask and a helmet. It was gleaming black, sufficiently sturdy and covered the back and top of his skull as well as half of his face, perfectly sculpted to his proportions. Poe felt silly wearing the mask. It made him look like a Kylo Ren wannabe. But then again, he needed to reclaim his identity, and if wearing this mask was an integral part of being General Dameron, then he’d wear it in the shower and to bed, if needed! Poe’s aversion to the mask was the result of his amnesia, and of everything he'd had to endure on the Millenium Falcon as the Resistance’s prisoner. Anger welled up in the General, a loathing for those who had twisted his mind to the point of him questioning his style own style choices. No, wait… On second thought Ren or Snoke might have forced the mask on him in the first place! For what it was worth, it might even have been Hugs’ idea. Poe made a mental note to ask the friend about the mask’s origin later and for now focused on the present.

The door opened and two stormtroopers escorted a captured rebel into the room, followed by, much to Poe’s surprise, General Pryde. Standing in the middle of the room, Poe watched the other General casually elbow Hux, who hadn’t been willing to step aside at the elder’s arrival.

Pryde stepped next to Poe, while Hux lingered by the door, momentarily shielding the prisoner from Poe’s view.

“We’re going to execute this rebel, and broadcast it to the citizens’ fleet”, Pryde announced.

The rebel in question, it was Rose Tico, looked up to Hux.

“Again at it? Is this our thing, you trying to execute me?”

The fingers of Hux’ right hand twitched. A year ago Tico had drawn blood with a bite, like a rodent. But just yesterday she had held this very same hand with hers, more human than any of the First Order officers. The captive was playing it for a joke, but for a tiny moment Hux would have been ready to agree that, yes, there was a bond between them, albeit not necessarily one that linked them in friendship. Hux even flinched ever so slightly when FN-11 gagged the captive with duct tape, so that she couldn’t spill the truth to Dameron in case she recognized him. Not that the risk of that would have been particularly present, with the General wearing his mask. The mask had been Hux’ idea, one of the many details he added to all of his plans to made them failsafe – at least until the vexing human factor came into play.

FN-11 shoved Rose deeper into the room and onto her knees. Again Hux felt an ever so slight sting. Was that really needed? It wasn’t as if Tico would remember the humiliation after she had died.

This isn’t about Tico, but about sending a message to the rebels, he had to remind himself.

Meanwhile Pryde had opened a channel to the Resistance. Hux’ eyes narrowed, when Rey appeared on the other end of the line. He hadn’t been aware of the enemy being this close already. From what he had seen those recent days though, the Steadfast wasn’t in a good shape after Exegol. The Falcon alone could give her serious trouble.

“How many of those masked dudes do you have?” Rey opened the banter.

Assuming his old role without reflecting on the action, Hux stepped forward, saying: “At the very least one more than you will have life members in this room in a moment.”

At the same time, right in front of the camera, FN-11 handed Poe his blaster. The other wanted to decline and reach for his own service weapon, when he suddenly noticed that he wasn’t carrying one.

“I have my own… oh.”

Why am I not carrying a weapon? I’m not a pacifist and even though they may not be my strong suit, I should be perfectly capable of using handguns.

There was only one explanation for why the quartermaster droid hadn’t supplied Poe Dameron with a weapon: The First Order didn’t fully trust him again. They treated him as something like a minor due to his mental state. Dam his amnesia! Damn the Resistance!

Poe accepted the blaster from FN-11 and proceeded to point it at the captive. A little lost at where exactly he should aim, the General went all out and moved the barrel towards his intended victim’s mouth. To the onlookers the decision had to look like that of a cruel person.

All the better, Poe thought. If I give them a convincing show, we’ll have them eat out of our hands.

“I don’t know who you are, but if you go through with that, it’ll be the last thing you do!” Rey promised. “We’re close to the flying junkyard you call a capital ship!”

“I’m sure you know everything about junkyards”, Pryde retorted with a sneer.

Rey, however, wasn’t fazed in the slightest.

“Refrain from it and we offer you surrender”, she announced.

For this one? Who is she? Poe wondered, studying the prisoner. Of course every life was precious, but he had gotten the distinct impression of the enemy being wasteful in this regard. Quarter… The Resistance wouldn’t offer such a concession for just about any techie or infantryman. Too bad Poe couldn’t ask outright about the prisoner’s identity, for that would have given away his current condition. He was expected to know the woman… his comrades… and himself.

“Shoot her”, Pryde ordered.

Uncertain whether that was really the best course of action, Poe moved his weapon closer to the rebel’s face, intent on ramming the barrel between her teeth and then wait. However, he was stopped dead by the duct tape.

“Ngh!” Rose protested.

On the other side Rey stifled laughter at the mistake. She turned her head to the side a little, apparently being able to see quite a lot of what was going in the room, and addressed Hux directly: “Friend of yours?”

Poe’s hand with the blaster shot upwards and towards the camera sensor.

“Hey, hey, hey, Jedi lady! Mind your tongue!” he threatened and might just have executed the sensor instead of the rebel, had Hux not put his hand on the blaster to slowly force it downwards.

“Don’t let her get to you”, he hissed. “It’s an underhanded rebel tactic. One of the more despisable stuff they do.”

“But she insulted you!”

Hux kept his hand on the other’s blaster. Turning to the camera, he said: “As you see, I spend my life babysitting masked hotshots, so pardon me if my patience is thinning.”

“Last chance, Hux and… whoever the others are. Put the weapon away!”

“The captive seems to be really valuable”, Poe whispered. “We should keep her hostage.”

Hux had claimed to grow impatient, but the one who wanted to move forward at all cost in this encounter now was Pryde. He pulled at Poe’s right arm.

“Kill the prisoner alrea… argh!”

A shot loosened and hit the floor right not to Rose’s knees. Poe had accidently pulled the trigger at the perceived “attack”.

“Sorry, Sir!” Poe uttered, trying to regain his footing. “My nerves got the better of me so briefly after my capti…” He hadn’t yet finished the sentence, when a hit on the Steadfast rocked the room. At the same time Admiral Griss informed Pryde that a “small, mixed rebel squad” was “approaching fast”.

Poe tossed the blaster back at FN-11.

“Get the hostage back to her cell. It’s time to fly!”

“Don’t speak nonsense!” Hux protested. “You had no training whatsoever in the new maneuver!”

“We have no choice. We’re outnumbered, out-resourced, but not outwitted.” Poe fixed his gaze on the man whom he took for his friend, and with a smile reassured him: “And they can never break our spirit!”

Pryde severed the connection to Rey. “What are you two talking about?”

“The formation I argued about with Griss before… before Exegol”, Hux quickly explained. “Dameron can pull it off.”

“So he claimed.”

“Look, General”, Poe interrupted the quarrel, speaking as hastily as Hux had done. “Hux knows this formation by heart, all he needs is my reflexes and sharp eyes. I trust him completely. Isn’t every last one of us just a mobile element of the First Order anyway? Our unity will crush the anarchists before they even understood what hit them!”

Pryde opened his mouth and closed it again, a fish out of the water in a room that contained Poe Dameron. Hux jnr. all of a sudden wasn’t the most appalling thing in the First Order anymore.

Poe squeezed Hux’s shoulder. “To the bridge with you! I’m counting on you!”

The other General nodded. “I have you covered.”

Pryde watched with amazement how naturally the duo slotted into the roles of leader and second in command, the same dynamic Hux had always detested, when it left him as the lesser. But truth was, Armitage wasn’t a leader, he was a supporter, a kingmaker. Leave it to him to finally accept that and make himself useful at the side of a damned rebel… As the door opened and closed again, Pryde shuddered. It was easy to write Hux off as incompetent – until the moment one imagined him on the enemy’s side and with an enabler like Dameron. The mental image of having to face a perfectly centered, genuinely confident instead of just arrogant Hux was none Enric Pryde deigned to entertain.

Meanwhile Rose looked up from the floor with a “So YOU think you are having a bad day?” expression.

“Uh, right. Take that back to the cell, Captain.”

Having received the same order twice now, but this time from a legitimate authority, FN-11 nodded. He pulled Rose back to her feet and marched her out of the room.

“Okay, prisoner. I’ll remove the duct tape, if you promise that you won’t say you were right about failed executions being your and Hux’ thing or something else along those lines.”

Bur Rose was still too shaken from having once again narrowly escaped death to reply. Taking her silence for defiance, FN-11 kicked the prisoner a few times more than he’d done otherwise.

And the Steadfast rocked under another hit…

#star wars #gingerpilot #gingerrose #armitage hux #poe dameron #non sims

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