New fic - "Per Exasperatio Ad Astra - Ch.17"
Chapter 17: In which Princess-and-General Leia Organa thinks the unthinkable, and the First Order has another meeting.
At Deenine’s suggestion, Rey was being offered a tour of Nimbus City to keep her distracted, and, Leia hoped, not in contact with Kylo Ren whether wittingly or otherwise. Poe and Finn would go too. Both Rey and Finn needed urgent basic briefing to help them integrate into galactic norms; Poe needed something to do that would keep him occupied and away from the rest of the Resistance (which now having time to grieve for their losses, would also quite possibly soon be thinking about just who had caused those losses).
Leia had taken up Lando’s offer of a stroll in the gardens and a private chat. Not that she believed the bit about privacy for a minute. Deenine wasn’t just a droid, she basically was Nimbus City. The protocol droid(ish) body was simply her public face, one of many units that she ran simultaneously and constantly. If she wanted to know what was happening in Nimbus City, she knew.
The entire top surface of the habitat was cunningly landscaped in different styles, representing environments from a hundred worlds (though for convenience all were within the same parameters of atmosphere, gravity and temperature). There was a garden representing Alderaan among them, recreating the temperate latitude in which Aldera City had stood. They avoided that one.
“Thank you,” Leia said, pausing to look at the huge, golden fish patrolling the long pond; giant grasses lined its paved edge, curving gracefully over the rippling water. Small fountains along the un-shaded centre of the pond oxygenated the water and glittered in Bespin’s pale light. She didn’t know which among a hundred million worlds the garden was meant to mirror, but it was undoubtedly pretty. “For everything. I know you’re taking a huge risk for us. We’ll be out of here as soon as I can manage it.”
She didn’t want to leave. Force-healing or no, she was tired. So many hurts in the last few days, so much lost all in one terrible blow, and no time at all for rest or sorrow (so much sorrow). Han and Luke, restored against all hope and then taken again, this time forever (she would hear her own voice sending Han to his death - Bring him home - every further day that she lived). Gial, Caluan, Amilyn, the friends and allies of decades, dead in days. It would be easy to blame Poe for it all, for immaturity, arrogance, stupidity, greed for glory. And yes, in better times, she would have had him court-martialled, and probably shot. But they were so few that she couldn’t do that now, so Poe would have to be helped and healed, and forgiven, at least enough to be what she needed him to be.
“Here.” Lando pulled a packet of waterweed fibre out of his cape and handed it to her. She opened it and sniffed the pungent, brightly-coloured fragments inside with some suspicion, but dutifully began scattering them across the pond. The fish rose to the surface at once, jostling each other for the treat in a flash of rosy fins and shining, two-meter-long backs.
“There’s no rush. I have Outer Rim clients. They aren’t my only ones. And the First Order has more nerfsteak on its plate than you, right now. Or me.”
“So Rey says. Straight from the mouth of Kylo Ren, apparently.”
Lando produced another packet and started throwing more food, aiming further from the edge to avoid the jam of eager bodies. He was one of the very few left alive who knew Kylo Ren’s previous identity; he was also carefully withholding judgement on how much might be left of that earlier self. Leia had told him about the possible mental connection as soon as she left Rey, letting him know the hazards of helping her again; giving him as much freedom of choice as she could. Her honour had always humbled him.
“Not for me to make judgements where the Force is concerned, but that’s kind of a risky situation.”
Leia sighed. “Yes, which is why it’s need to know only; and only you and I need to know.” There were so few of them left, even if they managed to retrieve Pava, Wexley and the rest of Black Squadron. And the silence from their allies had been a huge blow to morale. The pressure to be safe, to take no risks…would be very high. None of them truly knew Rey, after all. Who was she? Some random slave from a dustbin world; worse, one with a strong previous Imperial association. Even the suggestion that their new Jedi might be a danger to them, might be a spy, however unwittingly …could turn hope to fear to hatred in a heartbeat. Leia knew very well how mob psychology worked.
“She hasn’t told anyone else, so she recognises the danger too. But abandoning her, sending her away…is a bigger risk. If …Kylo Ren could find her now, he could find her wherever we sent her, and the rejection would just drive her towards him.” Deenine’s assessment of Rey, based on the hours they had spent together, had been very emphatic about her hunger for a place to belong, and people to belong to.
And the further consequence of that line of thinking…the familiar sacrifice for the greater good, the one for the many, well…
“And if we do worse than just reject her…killing her from nothing but fear, murdering an innocent who has done nothing but good for us…it would be an utter betrayal of all that we stand for. A true commitment to the Dark Side. And might not help us anyway.” A connection went two ways, after all. Murdering Rey (Leia had no truck with euphemisms like “eliminate” or “remove”; an evil deed might be justifiable by its contribution to the greater good, though much less often than evil-doers might think, but should never be held other than evil) might conceivably prompt Kylo Ren to put the Resistance back on his target list, and add Lando and Bespin to it.
“Plus, you aim for the queen, you better not miss.”
“That too.” Killing a strong Force user, even an untrained one, was a tricky proposition, as Rey’s survival to date had already shown; an unsuccessful attempt would quite definitely create the threat they feared. Luke’s example (Ben’s example) showed that, even if Leia’s own common sense had not told her so.
Both packets were empty. The fish noticed, and went off on their own fishy business. Leia and Lando shredded the packets into the pond for the benefit of its smaller denizens, and walked on. There was plenty more to discuss.
. . . . .
Due to Supremacy’s current bifurcated condition, the arriving Fleet officers were directed to the closest senior conference room to Hangar Bay Krill 374, where their incoming shuttles had docked. Disconcertingly, this was inside the civilian sector; worse, inside the Finance Department, the most feared and loathed agency of the First Order (it was widely believed that Finance was secretly the last bastion of the Sith). And the SOM was apparently to be a joint SOM with the senior civilian officials, so in the Supreme Leader’s absence, the Head of General Administration was presiding from her seat immediately to right of his (and it was a round table, too). The more cheerful and optimistic officers took all of this as a positive signal, since round tables had strong cultural connotations of respect for peers, and not standing on ceremony; and everyone, even Kylo Ren, knew that killing auditors, while temporarily satisfying, inevitably led to seven years’ bad luck. Even so, the number of armed security droids hovering ominously about made for a rather mixed message.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. The Supreme Leader conveys his apologies for the delay,” the Head said, as the officers settled in, uneasily eyeing the civilian officials interspersed among them. “He is dealing with a, um, biohazard emergency in former Supreme Leader Snoke’s personal quarters.”
There was a minor stir at that, which she ignored with iron serenity. “I am sure that the Supreme Leader will brief us when he arrives. You have our agenda for today. Everyone is up to date about the status of the SAR and the recovery plan, so there is no need to go into that here. Finance will brief the SOM on the Order’s current fiscal position. The Supreme Leader will brief on the death of former Supreme Leader Snoke, and the plan of action for the immediate future, and will receive the input of the SOM and the remainder of High Command.”
“A moment, Head,” Rear-Admiral Telatten said politely. “I understood that High Command was also to be participating in this meeting. They are not yet present.”
“My apologies, Rear-Admiral. In view of the situation in former Leader Snoke’s quarters, Grand Marshal-designate Hux requested that they be formally patched in when the Supreme Leader arrives. We are transmitting the presentations to them live, with all the accompanying data, so they will not be missing anything.”
There was a disgruntled murmur (more at the mention of “Grand Marshal-designate” than anything else), but no further objections, since the Head outranked them all by several levels.
Since DG/Finance was absent while re-growing various vital organs under medical supervision, his Deputy (scarcely less daunting) presented on preliminary non-personnel losses; in non-technical terms, gigantic but still manageable in the context of the Order’s overall finances. With, of course, care and some belt-tightening. Finance would be proposing some cost-saving measures in the next few days. However, the Order was far from insolvent. In addition to the active revenue streams from its civilian commercial holdings, Finance was given to understand that there were also extremely significant in-ground reserves of kyber crystals in locations identified by Supreme Leader Kylo Ren in his previous missions for the Order.
That caused a stir as well. None of them had ever known what exactly Kylo Ren had been doing on his solitary missions for Snoke. Sniffing out kyber deposits, apparently. The quantum claimed was…staggeringly high.
Unfortunately, that was all that they were able to learn.
No, sorry, Finance did not know the exact locations of the deposits, nor had it been able to confirm their size independently; Resource Management only knew what had been in Supreme Leader Kylo Ren’s mission reports, which never included coordinates. No, no-one else in the Civilian Arm knew either. No, not even the Director-General of Finance. No, not even the Head of General Administration herself. Only former Supreme Leader Snoke and Supreme Leader Kylo Ren knew those locations. Finance’s understanding was that the deposits had been discovered through use of the Force, kyber being notoriously Force-sensitive (the Military Arm, whose whizz-bangiest weapons were powered by kyber crystals, shifted uneasily in its seats at that). No, sorry, the Civilian Arm had no further knowledge. Perhaps FSB might know, but that was not within the Civilian Arm’s purview. Colonel Garmuth was presently going through decontamination and would be here shortly. No really, the Civilian Arm didn’t know. Really it didn't.
After several increasingly tetchy rounds, DDG/Finance closed down her datapad, said baldly, “That is all,” and sat down. Before anyone could try to re-open the issue, the Head announced, “Supreme Leader has just asked me to share the record of his just-completed investigation of former Supreme Leader Snoke’s quarters.”
The holo, which began with the gathering on the throne dais, caused considerable excitement since no-one present had ever been in the former Supreme Leader’s quarters (they hadn’t missed anything, was the unspoken consensus). His tech looked interesting though, and the sight of young Hux being harassed by Snoke’s upholstery was undeniably amusing (there were snickers, and some regret that no gold bathrobes appeared to have been involved in the action). Colonel Garmuth of FSB and Acting DG/Stratcom Tiekte arrived while it was on, both looking, to the experienced military eye, slightly frazzled, and bearing with them a distinct whiff of decontaminants.
“Oh good,” the Head said, simultaneously ignoring the visible twitch from both of them at the sight (and sound) of the recording, and cutting off questions from anyone else. “Are you two all right? Would you like some tea? Caf?”
“We’re fine, thanks, and tea would be lovely.”
“Much appreciated, ma’am, caf if you please.”
They found their seats; for some reason the seating-plan put Tiekte on the left of the empty seat reserved for the Grand Marshal-designate. A security droid floated over and deposited tall, insulated cups in front of them. The holo reached the point where the Supreme Leader did…whatever it was he did to shut down the…whatever they were. The curtain things. Then it stopped, leaving more questions than answers, rather like a cliffhanger episode in children’s educational programming.
Telatten said graciously, once the screams of offended Sith artifacts had ceased, “Nice shooting, Acting DG.”
“Thank you, Rear-Admiral. Not how I was expecting to spend this shift.” Tiekte uncapped her cup of tea and breathed in the steam; her shoulders relaxed visibly. Garmuth, with military celerity, was already halfway through his caf. Since asking either of them about Force-related matters was an obvious waste of time, a particularly persistent Brigadier-General decided to go back to the question of kyber deposits.
No, FSB didn’t know where the in-ground reserves were. Survey should know, or Resource Management. Yes, the location of the Order’s kyber reserves could indeed be considered a security issue, but it wasn’t one within FSB’s mandate. The Supreme Leader was on his way, and the SOM should just ask him.
“That was all very exciting,” Colonel Yago said, rather snidely (Imperial and Old Republic tradition had it that anyone in command of a starship was called “Captain”, regardless of their actual rank; the First Order had done away with this, but the practice lingered among the fogeys: item number three hundred and forty-seven on Hux’ list of things he disliked about the old Imperials). “But its relevance to the immediate situation…”
“The Grand Marshal-designate” said one of the security droids with emphasis (Hux got along with droids in general, and with security droids in particular). The door hissed open, the Grand Marshal-designate stalked in, and the level of tension in the room took a quantum jump upwards. Rear-Admiral Telatten, the most senior officer present, stood up and saluted, forcing everyone else military to do likewise. The civilians stood up politely and then sat down again without waiting to be invited.
“At ease.” Hux took his place across the table from the Supreme Leader’s seat. The military sat. “Head. Thank you for filling in. Could we have the rest of High Command in-conference, please? The Supreme Leader has asked me to brief the SOM on the immediate action plan while he is in decontamination.”
Holos popped into existence along the walls as the transmissions from the rest of High Command were cleared.
“Colleagues,” Hux’s light, cold voice seemed completely normal, belying the fluffy hair, feverishly bright eyes, and general air of a narglatch who has just been told that dinner will be late. The level of tension did not abate. He was not wearing a blaster, unlike almost everyone else present, but everyone was conscious of the hovering security droids.
“The Supreme Leader is on his way, and in the meantime has instructed me to inform you of his immediate intentions. Capital Fleet will follow the recovery plan that he has approved, and which has been circulated. While the loss of Starkiller Base and the temporary absence of Supremacy from the field will require reconsideration of our medium-term strategy, for now the remainder of the First Order will continue to follow the immediate plan of operations approved by former Supreme Leader Snoke, with tactical adjustments as necessary.”
General Quinn opened his mouth; Hux pretended not to see him. “In summary. Coreward Fleet will finish establishing complete control of the Rem..ah, Allegiant sector preparatory to using it as a base to support our operations in the wider Core. Base Fleet 1 and Outer Rim Fleets are to continue extending our influence through the Outer Rim and Mid-Rim, both directly and through proxies, to ensure that the New Republic finds no allies or sympathisers there. Since Capital Fleet less Supremacy will be in recovery phase for at least three more months, Base Fleet 2 will advance into the Core instead and take the Coruscant system; our sympathisers in the lower levels have been armed, and are ready to rise at the agreed signal.”
Admiral Prahji was nodding, pleased at the chance for glory. Coruscant was both symbolically important as the former seat of both Empire and Old Republic and the hub of an extensive hyperspace network. Whoever held Coruscant had her hand around the throat of the Core. The Head of General Administration smiled her sharp smile; her officials looked officious. Hux took a sip of the hot tarine tea that a security droid had deposited in front of him (upon AK-49’s instructions, the commissariat had already moved a substantial supply from Supremacy’s hydroponic gardens to the Finalizer’s stores), and continued,
“Base Fleet 3 will support Base Fleet 2 in the Inner Rim, again tapping our sympathisers and allied systems for support. The Army will, as already approved, avoid pitched battles, and wherever possible, encourage the local authorities to cooperate with the First Order voluntarily.”
Quinn nodded sharply. The Army of the First Order was smaller by far than its Imperial predecessor, relying on droids and machinery rather than organic soldiers, except for the Stormtrooper Corps. The losses from Starkiller Base and the attack on Supremacy had substantially reduced its available manpower. The deployment of the next graduating cohort would be speeded up, but even after that the Army was not going to have soldiers to waste.
“…Non-cooperative worlds will be blockaded. The production of droid-controlled hyperspace interdictors for the Fleets has increased according to schedule, and will be increased by a further 50 percent in the next six months, to allow coverage for the,” Hux paused, and said with genuine emotion (sorrow, frustration, and a lot of cataclysmic rage), “dreadful personnel losses that we have suffered in recent days.”
A basic schema of the plan opened over the centre of the table, visible from all angles. The adjusted detailed version had already been sent to everyone’ pad, complete with revised timelines, personnel deployments, and KPIs.
“Our sleeper cells in the main systems of the Core were activated upon the destruction of the Hosnian system, and are operating now to delay and obstruct any united political or military response to our advance.” That was the assumption, anyway, though currently unconfirmed since the Director of External Intelligence and her whole department had been at bullseye of the Resistance ship’s kinetic interaction with Supremacy. “Coreward Fleet will take over the handling of the Core sleepers until External Intelligence has been re-established. The Civilian Arm…”
“Not so fast,” interrupted Lieutenant-General Ennix Devian, the next most senior surviving Army officer of Capital Fleet, “Grand Marshal-designate.” His sneer was audible in his voice though his face remained haughtily impassive. “While we appreciate your…eagerness to brief us, High Command has not yet addressed the issue of Supreme Leader Snoke’s death, and the status of Kylo Ren.”
Devian was one of the oldest of High Command, though not the most senior in rank, and considered himself the leader of the First Order’s faction of ageing ex-Imperial nostalgists. His friendship with Brendol Hux, and the fortuitous arrival of Snoke in power, had saved him from Rae Sloane’s ruthless elimination of anyone who challenged her, but that was as far as his luck had gone. Sloane had survived her fall from formal leadership of the First Order, and Snoke had not been that impressed with him either; Devian had kept his rank but risen no further after Brendol Hux’s sudden and still-officially-mysterious death.
Hux gritted his teeth on fury and waited, resisting the bait of Devian’s insolence. Colonel Yago shifted in his seat, caught a dagger-stare from Telatten, and subsided. There was a long silence, not filled with anyone else expressing support for Devian’s point (or his insubordination; Hux already outranked him, even without the new appointment). As it stretched on, and the man’s ruddy face slowly paled with both fear and rage, Hux’s anger was replaced with dizzy disbelief. Had Devian done no preparation at all? Just assumed that the fogeys would follow him?
Apparently so; or his supporters had changed their minds. The simultaneous text transcript of Sloane’s meeting with High Command that Nikara Pellaeon had sent him (Sloane expected her protegés to support both her and each other; backstabbing was not rewarded), had told him where High Command stood, but he had not expected quite this level of, as it were, positive non-interference. Hux pulled himself together, suppressed the impulse to cackle with relief, and said with studied neutrality, “Does anyone else have objections to the Supreme Leader’s plan of action as stated?”
Sloane signalled for the floor.
Hux inclined his head respectfully. “Grand Admiral."
“Grand Marshal-designate.” Her smile was faint, but in Hux’s educated judgement, genuine.
“There are no objections. However, High Command will need a schedule of discussion for the reconsideration of our strategic direction, at the Supreme Leader’s convenience. We would also be very interested in what he finds in Snoke’s records.”
No more “Former Supreme Leader Snoke”, it seemed. Sloane had always had self-control the way Star Destroyers had firepower, one of the many things he admired and respected about her. In her place Hux would have been hard put to it to hide a tenth of the vicious satisfaction she had to be feeling.
“Indeed, Grand Admiral. We will be communicating directly with High Command shortly.”
Since Ren had still not materialised, Hux carried on.
For the meeting’s information, in the interest of better cooperation among the different arms of the First Order, the Supreme Leader would be instituting a High Council of both military and civilian officers, chaired by himself. In conjunction with the Supreme Leader, it would be the highest ruling body of the First Order. A circular listing its members would be disseminated to the whole Order after the SOM. Questions could be addressed to the Supreme Leader when he arrived.
Hux let the buzz of low-voiced discussion run. Ren had been undecided, during their earlier colloquy inside Hux’s head, about announcing the Supreme Council immediately. Hux had persuaded him with the argument that giving the senior officials something to aim for that was not the Supreme Leader’s seat would distract them nicely from coveting said seat for themselves.
Across the room, Sloane caught his eye. The list of members had already been shared with her, of course, and with Pellaeon and Daala (and the Civilian Arm, of course; Hux was going to keep them as close as he possibly could, oh yes). Her smile widened fractionally, and in return Hux offered her the smallest nod of courteous acknowledgement. It was good to know that she still had his back, at least for now. A tiny shoot of warmth poked a cautious growing tip out into the normally icy wasteland of his psyche.
The next moment, fingers were prodding his thigh with ungentle urgency, and Tiekte was hissing next to him, “Grand Marshal! He’s here!”
Hux jerked upright in his seat, painfully alert. He knew that sensation, that feeling of abrupt emergence from fog. Pfassking Force users.
Sloane’s face showed sudden shock, the classic “look out behind you!” expression. The rumble of voices fell sharply silent, as the SOM realised that without anyone (human or droid, present or twenty thousand light-years away) having noticed it, the empty seat at the table was no longer empty. Was in fact extremely occupied, by a tall, broad-shouldered, black-clad young man with a pale, narrow face …wait, Hux thought, what happened to his scar?!!!”… dark, non-regulation hair, and eyes that… frightening eyes.
“Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” said Kylo Ren, gentle as the last sleep. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”
At Deenine’s suggestion, Rey was being offered a tour of Nimbus City to keep her distracted, and, Leia hoped, not in contact with Kylo Ren whether wittingly or otherwise. Poe and Finn would go too. Both Rey and Finn needed urgent basic briefing to help them integrate into galactic norms; Poe needed something to do that would keep him occupied and away from the rest of the Resistance (which now having time to grieve for their losses, would also quite possibly soon be thinking about just who had caused those losses).
Leia had taken up Lando’s offer of a stroll in the gardens and a private chat. Not that she believed the bit about privacy for a minute. Deenine wasn’t just a droid, she basically was Nimbus City. The protocol droid(ish) body was simply her public face, one of many units that she ran simultaneously and constantly. If she wanted to know what was happening in Nimbus City, she knew.
The entire top surface of the habitat was cunningly landscaped in different styles, representing environments from a hundred worlds (though for convenience all were within the same parameters of atmosphere, gravity and temperature). There was a garden representing Alderaan among them, recreating the temperate latitude in which Aldera City had stood. They avoided that one.
“Thank you,” Leia said, pausing to look at the huge, golden fish patrolling the long pond; giant grasses lined its paved edge, curving gracefully over the rippling water. Small fountains along the un-shaded centre of the pond oxygenated the water and glittered in Bespin’s pale light. She didn’t know which among a hundred million worlds the garden was meant to mirror, but it was undoubtedly pretty. “For everything. I know you’re taking a huge risk for us. We’ll be out of here as soon as I can manage it.”
She didn’t want to leave. Force-healing or no, she was tired. So many hurts in the last few days, so much lost all in one terrible blow, and no time at all for rest or sorrow (so much sorrow). Han and Luke, restored against all hope and then taken again, this time forever (she would hear her own voice sending Han to his death - Bring him home - every further day that she lived). Gial, Caluan, Amilyn, the friends and allies of decades, dead in days. It would be easy to blame Poe for it all, for immaturity, arrogance, stupidity, greed for glory. And yes, in better times, she would have had him court-martialled, and probably shot. But they were so few that she couldn’t do that now, so Poe would have to be helped and healed, and forgiven, at least enough to be what she needed him to be.
“Here.” Lando pulled a packet of waterweed fibre out of his cape and handed it to her. She opened it and sniffed the pungent, brightly-coloured fragments inside with some suspicion, but dutifully began scattering them across the pond. The fish rose to the surface at once, jostling each other for the treat in a flash of rosy fins and shining, two-meter-long backs.
“There’s no rush. I have Outer Rim clients. They aren’t my only ones. And the First Order has more nerfsteak on its plate than you, right now. Or me.”
“So Rey says. Straight from the mouth of Kylo Ren, apparently.”
Lando produced another packet and started throwing more food, aiming further from the edge to avoid the jam of eager bodies. He was one of the very few left alive who knew Kylo Ren’s previous identity; he was also carefully withholding judgement on how much might be left of that earlier self. Leia had told him about the possible mental connection as soon as she left Rey, letting him know the hazards of helping her again; giving him as much freedom of choice as she could. Her honour had always humbled him.
“Not for me to make judgements where the Force is concerned, but that’s kind of a risky situation.”
Leia sighed. “Yes, which is why it’s need to know only; and only you and I need to know.” There were so few of them left, even if they managed to retrieve Pava, Wexley and the rest of Black Squadron. And the silence from their allies had been a huge blow to morale. The pressure to be safe, to take no risks…would be very high. None of them truly knew Rey, after all. Who was she? Some random slave from a dustbin world; worse, one with a strong previous Imperial association. Even the suggestion that their new Jedi might be a danger to them, might be a spy, however unwittingly …could turn hope to fear to hatred in a heartbeat. Leia knew very well how mob psychology worked.
“She hasn’t told anyone else, so she recognises the danger too. But abandoning her, sending her away…is a bigger risk. If …Kylo Ren could find her now, he could find her wherever we sent her, and the rejection would just drive her towards him.” Deenine’s assessment of Rey, based on the hours they had spent together, had been very emphatic about her hunger for a place to belong, and people to belong to.
And the further consequence of that line of thinking…the familiar sacrifice for the greater good, the one for the many, well…
“And if we do worse than just reject her…killing her from nothing but fear, murdering an innocent who has done nothing but good for us…it would be an utter betrayal of all that we stand for. A true commitment to the Dark Side. And might not help us anyway.” A connection went two ways, after all. Murdering Rey (Leia had no truck with euphemisms like “eliminate” or “remove”; an evil deed might be justifiable by its contribution to the greater good, though much less often than evil-doers might think, but should never be held other than evil) might conceivably prompt Kylo Ren to put the Resistance back on his target list, and add Lando and Bespin to it.
“Plus, you aim for the queen, you better not miss.”
“That too.” Killing a strong Force user, even an untrained one, was a tricky proposition, as Rey’s survival to date had already shown; an unsuccessful attempt would quite definitely create the threat they feared. Luke’s example (Ben’s example) showed that, even if Leia’s own common sense had not told her so.
Both packets were empty. The fish noticed, and went off on their own fishy business. Leia and Lando shredded the packets into the pond for the benefit of its smaller denizens, and walked on. There was plenty more to discuss.
. . . . .
Due to Supremacy’s current bifurcated condition, the arriving Fleet officers were directed to the closest senior conference room to Hangar Bay Krill 374, where their incoming shuttles had docked. Disconcertingly, this was inside the civilian sector; worse, inside the Finance Department, the most feared and loathed agency of the First Order (it was widely believed that Finance was secretly the last bastion of the Sith). And the SOM was apparently to be a joint SOM with the senior civilian officials, so in the Supreme Leader’s absence, the Head of General Administration was presiding from her seat immediately to right of his (and it was a round table, too). The more cheerful and optimistic officers took all of this as a positive signal, since round tables had strong cultural connotations of respect for peers, and not standing on ceremony; and everyone, even Kylo Ren, knew that killing auditors, while temporarily satisfying, inevitably led to seven years’ bad luck. Even so, the number of armed security droids hovering ominously about made for a rather mixed message.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. The Supreme Leader conveys his apologies for the delay,” the Head said, as the officers settled in, uneasily eyeing the civilian officials interspersed among them. “He is dealing with a, um, biohazard emergency in former Supreme Leader Snoke’s personal quarters.”
There was a minor stir at that, which she ignored with iron serenity. “I am sure that the Supreme Leader will brief us when he arrives. You have our agenda for today. Everyone is up to date about the status of the SAR and the recovery plan, so there is no need to go into that here. Finance will brief the SOM on the Order’s current fiscal position. The Supreme Leader will brief on the death of former Supreme Leader Snoke, and the plan of action for the immediate future, and will receive the input of the SOM and the remainder of High Command.”
“A moment, Head,” Rear-Admiral Telatten said politely. “I understood that High Command was also to be participating in this meeting. They are not yet present.”
“My apologies, Rear-Admiral. In view of the situation in former Leader Snoke’s quarters, Grand Marshal-designate Hux requested that they be formally patched in when the Supreme Leader arrives. We are transmitting the presentations to them live, with all the accompanying data, so they will not be missing anything.”
There was a disgruntled murmur (more at the mention of “Grand Marshal-designate” than anything else), but no further objections, since the Head outranked them all by several levels.
Since DG/Finance was absent while re-growing various vital organs under medical supervision, his Deputy (scarcely less daunting) presented on preliminary non-personnel losses; in non-technical terms, gigantic but still manageable in the context of the Order’s overall finances. With, of course, care and some belt-tightening. Finance would be proposing some cost-saving measures in the next few days. However, the Order was far from insolvent. In addition to the active revenue streams from its civilian commercial holdings, Finance was given to understand that there were also extremely significant in-ground reserves of kyber crystals in locations identified by Supreme Leader Kylo Ren in his previous missions for the Order.
That caused a stir as well. None of them had ever known what exactly Kylo Ren had been doing on his solitary missions for Snoke. Sniffing out kyber deposits, apparently. The quantum claimed was…staggeringly high.
Unfortunately, that was all that they were able to learn.
No, sorry, Finance did not know the exact locations of the deposits, nor had it been able to confirm their size independently; Resource Management only knew what had been in Supreme Leader Kylo Ren’s mission reports, which never included coordinates. No, no-one else in the Civilian Arm knew either. No, not even the Director-General of Finance. No, not even the Head of General Administration herself. Only former Supreme Leader Snoke and Supreme Leader Kylo Ren knew those locations. Finance’s understanding was that the deposits had been discovered through use of the Force, kyber being notoriously Force-sensitive (the Military Arm, whose whizz-bangiest weapons were powered by kyber crystals, shifted uneasily in its seats at that). No, sorry, the Civilian Arm had no further knowledge. Perhaps FSB might know, but that was not within the Civilian Arm’s purview. Colonel Garmuth was presently going through decontamination and would be here shortly. No really, the Civilian Arm didn’t know. Really it didn't.
After several increasingly tetchy rounds, DDG/Finance closed down her datapad, said baldly, “That is all,” and sat down. Before anyone could try to re-open the issue, the Head announced, “Supreme Leader has just asked me to share the record of his just-completed investigation of former Supreme Leader Snoke’s quarters.”
The holo, which began with the gathering on the throne dais, caused considerable excitement since no-one present had ever been in the former Supreme Leader’s quarters (they hadn’t missed anything, was the unspoken consensus). His tech looked interesting though, and the sight of young Hux being harassed by Snoke’s upholstery was undeniably amusing (there were snickers, and some regret that no gold bathrobes appeared to have been involved in the action). Colonel Garmuth of FSB and Acting DG/Stratcom Tiekte arrived while it was on, both looking, to the experienced military eye, slightly frazzled, and bearing with them a distinct whiff of decontaminants.
“Oh good,” the Head said, simultaneously ignoring the visible twitch from both of them at the sight (and sound) of the recording, and cutting off questions from anyone else. “Are you two all right? Would you like some tea? Caf?”
“We’re fine, thanks, and tea would be lovely.”
“Much appreciated, ma’am, caf if you please.”
They found their seats; for some reason the seating-plan put Tiekte on the left of the empty seat reserved for the Grand Marshal-designate. A security droid floated over and deposited tall, insulated cups in front of them. The holo reached the point where the Supreme Leader did…whatever it was he did to shut down the…whatever they were. The curtain things. Then it stopped, leaving more questions than answers, rather like a cliffhanger episode in children’s educational programming.
Telatten said graciously, once the screams of offended Sith artifacts had ceased, “Nice shooting, Acting DG.”
“Thank you, Rear-Admiral. Not how I was expecting to spend this shift.” Tiekte uncapped her cup of tea and breathed in the steam; her shoulders relaxed visibly. Garmuth, with military celerity, was already halfway through his caf. Since asking either of them about Force-related matters was an obvious waste of time, a particularly persistent Brigadier-General decided to go back to the question of kyber deposits.
No, FSB didn’t know where the in-ground reserves were. Survey should know, or Resource Management. Yes, the location of the Order’s kyber reserves could indeed be considered a security issue, but it wasn’t one within FSB’s mandate. The Supreme Leader was on his way, and the SOM should just ask him.
“That was all very exciting,” Colonel Yago said, rather snidely (Imperial and Old Republic tradition had it that anyone in command of a starship was called “Captain”, regardless of their actual rank; the First Order had done away with this, but the practice lingered among the fogeys: item number three hundred and forty-seven on Hux’ list of things he disliked about the old Imperials). “But its relevance to the immediate situation…”
“The Grand Marshal-designate” said one of the security droids with emphasis (Hux got along with droids in general, and with security droids in particular). The door hissed open, the Grand Marshal-designate stalked in, and the level of tension in the room took a quantum jump upwards. Rear-Admiral Telatten, the most senior officer present, stood up and saluted, forcing everyone else military to do likewise. The civilians stood up politely and then sat down again without waiting to be invited.
“At ease.” Hux took his place across the table from the Supreme Leader’s seat. The military sat. “Head. Thank you for filling in. Could we have the rest of High Command in-conference, please? The Supreme Leader has asked me to brief the SOM on the immediate action plan while he is in decontamination.”
Holos popped into existence along the walls as the transmissions from the rest of High Command were cleared.
“Colleagues,” Hux’s light, cold voice seemed completely normal, belying the fluffy hair, feverishly bright eyes, and general air of a narglatch who has just been told that dinner will be late. The level of tension did not abate. He was not wearing a blaster, unlike almost everyone else present, but everyone was conscious of the hovering security droids.
“The Supreme Leader is on his way, and in the meantime has instructed me to inform you of his immediate intentions. Capital Fleet will follow the recovery plan that he has approved, and which has been circulated. While the loss of Starkiller Base and the temporary absence of Supremacy from the field will require reconsideration of our medium-term strategy, for now the remainder of the First Order will continue to follow the immediate plan of operations approved by former Supreme Leader Snoke, with tactical adjustments as necessary.”
General Quinn opened his mouth; Hux pretended not to see him. “In summary. Coreward Fleet will finish establishing complete control of the Rem..ah, Allegiant sector preparatory to using it as a base to support our operations in the wider Core. Base Fleet 1 and Outer Rim Fleets are to continue extending our influence through the Outer Rim and Mid-Rim, both directly and through proxies, to ensure that the New Republic finds no allies or sympathisers there. Since Capital Fleet less Supremacy will be in recovery phase for at least three more months, Base Fleet 2 will advance into the Core instead and take the Coruscant system; our sympathisers in the lower levels have been armed, and are ready to rise at the agreed signal.”
Admiral Prahji was nodding, pleased at the chance for glory. Coruscant was both symbolically important as the former seat of both Empire and Old Republic and the hub of an extensive hyperspace network. Whoever held Coruscant had her hand around the throat of the Core. The Head of General Administration smiled her sharp smile; her officials looked officious. Hux took a sip of the hot tarine tea that a security droid had deposited in front of him (upon AK-49’s instructions, the commissariat had already moved a substantial supply from Supremacy’s hydroponic gardens to the Finalizer’s stores), and continued,
“Base Fleet 3 will support Base Fleet 2 in the Inner Rim, again tapping our sympathisers and allied systems for support. The Army will, as already approved, avoid pitched battles, and wherever possible, encourage the local authorities to cooperate with the First Order voluntarily.”
Quinn nodded sharply. The Army of the First Order was smaller by far than its Imperial predecessor, relying on droids and machinery rather than organic soldiers, except for the Stormtrooper Corps. The losses from Starkiller Base and the attack on Supremacy had substantially reduced its available manpower. The deployment of the next graduating cohort would be speeded up, but even after that the Army was not going to have soldiers to waste.
“…Non-cooperative worlds will be blockaded. The production of droid-controlled hyperspace interdictors for the Fleets has increased according to schedule, and will be increased by a further 50 percent in the next six months, to allow coverage for the,” Hux paused, and said with genuine emotion (sorrow, frustration, and a lot of cataclysmic rage), “dreadful personnel losses that we have suffered in recent days.”
A basic schema of the plan opened over the centre of the table, visible from all angles. The adjusted detailed version had already been sent to everyone’ pad, complete with revised timelines, personnel deployments, and KPIs.
“Our sleeper cells in the main systems of the Core were activated upon the destruction of the Hosnian system, and are operating now to delay and obstruct any united political or military response to our advance.” That was the assumption, anyway, though currently unconfirmed since the Director of External Intelligence and her whole department had been at bullseye of the Resistance ship’s kinetic interaction with Supremacy. “Coreward Fleet will take over the handling of the Core sleepers until External Intelligence has been re-established. The Civilian Arm…”
“Not so fast,” interrupted Lieutenant-General Ennix Devian, the next most senior surviving Army officer of Capital Fleet, “Grand Marshal-designate.” His sneer was audible in his voice though his face remained haughtily impassive. “While we appreciate your…eagerness to brief us, High Command has not yet addressed the issue of Supreme Leader Snoke’s death, and the status of Kylo Ren.”
Devian was one of the oldest of High Command, though not the most senior in rank, and considered himself the leader of the First Order’s faction of ageing ex-Imperial nostalgists. His friendship with Brendol Hux, and the fortuitous arrival of Snoke in power, had saved him from Rae Sloane’s ruthless elimination of anyone who challenged her, but that was as far as his luck had gone. Sloane had survived her fall from formal leadership of the First Order, and Snoke had not been that impressed with him either; Devian had kept his rank but risen no further after Brendol Hux’s sudden and still-officially-mysterious death.
Hux gritted his teeth on fury and waited, resisting the bait of Devian’s insolence. Colonel Yago shifted in his seat, caught a dagger-stare from Telatten, and subsided. There was a long silence, not filled with anyone else expressing support for Devian’s point (or his insubordination; Hux already outranked him, even without the new appointment). As it stretched on, and the man’s ruddy face slowly paled with both fear and rage, Hux’s anger was replaced with dizzy disbelief. Had Devian done no preparation at all? Just assumed that the fogeys would follow him?
Apparently so; or his supporters had changed their minds. The simultaneous text transcript of Sloane’s meeting with High Command that Nikara Pellaeon had sent him (Sloane expected her protegés to support both her and each other; backstabbing was not rewarded), had told him where High Command stood, but he had not expected quite this level of, as it were, positive non-interference. Hux pulled himself together, suppressed the impulse to cackle with relief, and said with studied neutrality, “Does anyone else have objections to the Supreme Leader’s plan of action as stated?”
Sloane signalled for the floor.
Hux inclined his head respectfully. “Grand Admiral."
“Grand Marshal-designate.” Her smile was faint, but in Hux’s educated judgement, genuine.
“There are no objections. However, High Command will need a schedule of discussion for the reconsideration of our strategic direction, at the Supreme Leader’s convenience. We would also be very interested in what he finds in Snoke’s records.”
No more “Former Supreme Leader Snoke”, it seemed. Sloane had always had self-control the way Star Destroyers had firepower, one of the many things he admired and respected about her. In her place Hux would have been hard put to it to hide a tenth of the vicious satisfaction she had to be feeling.
“Indeed, Grand Admiral. We will be communicating directly with High Command shortly.”
Since Ren had still not materialised, Hux carried on.
For the meeting’s information, in the interest of better cooperation among the different arms of the First Order, the Supreme Leader would be instituting a High Council of both military and civilian officers, chaired by himself. In conjunction with the Supreme Leader, it would be the highest ruling body of the First Order. A circular listing its members would be disseminated to the whole Order after the SOM. Questions could be addressed to the Supreme Leader when he arrived.
Hux let the buzz of low-voiced discussion run. Ren had been undecided, during their earlier colloquy inside Hux’s head, about announcing the Supreme Council immediately. Hux had persuaded him with the argument that giving the senior officials something to aim for that was not the Supreme Leader’s seat would distract them nicely from coveting said seat for themselves.
Across the room, Sloane caught his eye. The list of members had already been shared with her, of course, and with Pellaeon and Daala (and the Civilian Arm, of course; Hux was going to keep them as close as he possibly could, oh yes). Her smile widened fractionally, and in return Hux offered her the smallest nod of courteous acknowledgement. It was good to know that she still had his back, at least for now. A tiny shoot of warmth poked a cautious growing tip out into the normally icy wasteland of his psyche.
The next moment, fingers were prodding his thigh with ungentle urgency, and Tiekte was hissing next to him, “Grand Marshal! He’s here!”
Hux jerked upright in his seat, painfully alert. He knew that sensation, that feeling of abrupt emergence from fog. Pfassking Force users.
Sloane’s face showed sudden shock, the classic “look out behind you!” expression. The rumble of voices fell sharply silent, as the SOM realised that without anyone (human or droid, present or twenty thousand light-years away) having noticed it, the empty seat at the table was no longer empty. Was in fact extremely occupied, by a tall, broad-shouldered, black-clad young man with a pale, narrow face …wait, Hux thought, what happened to his scar?!!!”… dark, non-regulation hair, and eyes that… frightening eyes.
“Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” said Kylo Ren, gentle as the last sleep. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”