Kill the Past
In which Unkar Plutt makes the acquaintance of one Kylo Ren.
An incessant, irritating noise plucked at Kylo’s consciousness, prodding him up out of sleep. The surface under him swung and fingers tightened on him. His eyes snapped open and he was suddenly, completely awake.
Rey rolled right over the top of him, lithe and naked and beautiful. A hammock not being an accustomed item of furniture, he struggled to sit up.
“Proximity alarm,” she said and began quickly pulling on clothes.
He stopped struggling and watched her, captivated.
Still appealingly exposed, she picked up his lightsaber from the clothes strewn on the floor and tossed it to him. “Come on. We don’t have a lot of time.”
With unwelcome effort, he wrenched his mind back to business.
He never realized how long it took to dress until he had to do it in a hurry. He was still hopping into his boots as she grabbed her new lightsaber, then she was out the door.
The sound of speeders wavered on the still morning air.
“Rey, wait!” he growled, finally got his boot on and went after her, lightsaber in hand. He didn’t bother with his gloves or cloak.
Five speeders crested a dune, their shadows fleeing long across the sand beside them. All but one carried two men apiece. The fifth labored under a single, hulking figure.
Rey growled something under her breath then said aloud, “Unkar Plutt.” There was a depth of loathing in the words that roused Kylo’s darkness. “He just had to show up.”
He raised a hand. Rey caught it, pulled it down.
“Wait,” she said. “I want the chance to show him what he’s dealing with.”
The dark side was running strongly through her right now. He knew exactly what she felt.
They stood shoulder to shoulder near the walker’s feet. The speeders fanned out in a semicircle around them—obviously to prevent their escape. Too bad for them Kylo had no intention of trying to escape.
The engines powered down with discordant, descending whines and the men aboard climbed off. Eight were covered head-to-toe in wraps, robes, tunics, hoods, gloves, goggles, masks. The largest, a lumbering Crolute, wore some kind of plating down his torso, his veined and shiny neck and arms squeezing like dough out of the collar and sleeves of his shirt. Kylo stared at that one, making no attempt to subdue the darkness rising in him.
Rey planted hands on hips. “What do you want, Unkar?”
The thugs fanned out around the Crolute and drew their blasters.
“You stole a ship from me, girl,” Plutt said.
“How many years did you cheat and steal from me?” Rey fired back. “How many times did you make me starve? You really think that piece of junk you left rotting on the landing field can make up for that?”
“I bought you. You’re mine,” Plutt said. “I can do whatever I want with you.”
Kylo clenched a fist and dropped a hand to his lightsaber, his vision shimmering with rage.
Rey snorted. “You couldn’t before. You sure won’t now.”
Plutt gave a phlegmy-sounding laugh. “No? Who’s going to stop me? Pretty boy, there?” His gaze flicked dismissively over Kylo.
Kylo ground his teeth. But this was Rey’s enemy. He had to allow her the satisfaction of dealing with him.
“What happed to the dark one?” Plutt taunted. “Got tired of him already?”
“Go away, Unkar,” Rey said, sighing. “I’m giving you a chance. I promise you, there’s nothing here you want to find.”
“Not the ship behind that dune?” Plutt said. “First Order starfighter, isn’t it? It just might make up for the one you stole.”
He gestured at his thugs. Two began moving across the sand, toward the Silencer.
“Don’t touch my ship,” Kylo growled.
The thugs stopped at the menace in Kylo’s voice. Their blasters came to bear on him.
Plutt’s small eyes, almost swallowed by blubber, widened. “Your ship!” He grinned, his peglike teeth glinting. “I hear you did a lot of damage at Laharna, boy. But you’re not in your fancy ship now, are you? No ship, no blaster, and a big, big bounty on your head from the Tento Syndicate.” He shook his head sadly. “You talk awful big for the spot you’re in.”
Rey glanced at Kylo, a look both embarrassed and apologetic. That she felt she had anything to apologize for infuriated him even more.
“You never were very smart, Blobfish,” she sighed. “Remember when you messed with Sarco Plank? Don’t make the same mistake.”
The Crolute’s grin disappeared. “Don’t threaten me, girl. You’re not as tough as you think. You think you kept the filth off all these years?” Plutt sneered. “No. I kept them off you. Because you were my best scavenger. You’re not scavenging anymore. That means they don’t have to stay off you anymore.” He jerked his head at his goons. “Go ahead, boys. Pretty Boy here can watch.”
Five of the thugs moved toward Rey, three of them toward Kylo.
He didn’t need to go into the Crolute’s vile mind to know what he planned. If his words hadn’t been clear enough, the thoughts and images and ugly lust and violence fouling the Force were.
They were dead men walking. Every one of them. Kylo ignited his lightsaber.
Every blaster swung to him. Three fired—shots aimed to incapacitate, not kill. He batted away the bolts. Rey reached out a hand, snatched the weapons away with the Force. A couple of the thugs yelped in shock, then all of them were going for other weapons. Kylo raised a hand and froze them all.
He stalked toward Plutt, his lightsaber shaking, he held it so tightly.
“I promised myself I’d kill you when I saw you.” That strained edge had crept into Kylo’s voice. He drew his lightsaber up and down Plutt’s blubbery body, the crackling red blade centimeters from him. “I promised myself I’d make it slow.”
He raised his blade to the Crolute’s head, carefully sliced along his helmet. It peeled open with the stench of burned leather. Plutt whimpered.
“No ears,” Kylo observed. “Too bad. I’ll have to start with a finger, then.”
He touched the Force, and Plutt’s mitt of a hand came up, shaking. The tip of Kylo’s blade traced the base of Plutt’s fat forefinger, close enough to scorch.
“How many portions for it?” Kylo said, then drew the tip of his blade to the Crolute’s wrist. “How many portions for a hand?”
“Please…” Plutt snuffled.
“Kylo,” Rey said.
He could feel she didn’t completely disapprove, but she was growing uncomfortable. Torture didn’t sit easy with her, it seemed.
He slid her a look and stepped back. Releasing Plutt and his bullies from his Force hold, he lowered his lightsaber. Rey didn’t relax, but her attention shifted from him to the goons cautiously shuffling in the sand, looking to their boss for orders.
Kylo waited, strung so tight the sand rose in little hissing eddies around his feet. Go on, he thought. Give me a reason.
“What are you waiting for?” Plutt shouted at his goons. “Get—”
Kylo lunged forward again, swept his lightsaber upward. Plutt’s shout turned to a scream as the blade ripped up through his crotch. The scream stopped as the blade sheared through his chest, up through his blubbery neck and divided his gaping mouth and wide eyes.
The two halves of the body flopped onto the sand, wobbling like something washed up on the beach.
Rey ignited her lightsaber. For one, stunned moment, the silence was broken only by the hum of the two lightsabers and Kylo’s harsh breaths. Then the thugs were rushing them, armed with vibroknives and electrochains and a vibroax.
Rey gave a feral yell and slashed at the three rushing her. He didn’t need to watch to know her form was impeccable—he could feel her through the bond.
He took down the first one attacking him in a single broad swing of his lightsaber. Two more came at him, one wielding two vibroknives. Kylo feinted, forcing them back as he closed the distance between him and Rey.
She ducked under the arc of the electrochain and came up slashing. The thug thudded to the sand, his chain falling across him, sparking. His wraps smoked and burst into flame. Rey spun to engage the one behind her, already inside her guard, his vibroknife jabbing for her kidney. Kylo ripped him up the back, sent him sprawling. Rey’s eyes locked on his then widened, going beyond him. She made a move he must’ve learned but didn’t remember ever using: she lunged low over her leading leg, her outthrust blade jabbing past him at full extension.
He spun just in time to see the goon behind him skewered on Rey’s blade. He pitched face-first at Kylo’s feet as she withdrew.
The one with two vibroknives came slashing toward him, one blade high, one low. Kylo was already spinning his lightsaber when the man suddenly screamed, clawing at his neck. Kylo registered a strange lump on his shoulder then realized it was the hassash, its sharp teeth buried in the thug’s wrappings. The hassash leapt off and scurried across the sand. The man went rigid then collapsed, thrashing wildly, his agonized screams shredding the air.
Kylo leapt across the flailing body, swinging for the remaining two. One whirled his electrochain as if he thought he could entangle Kylo’s blade. Very quickly, he discovered his mistake. The last man looked at the bodies around him, his vibroax wavering. Kylo stalked toward him, lightsaber ready at his side. The thug dropped his vibroax and lifted his gloved hands. Kylo swept his weapon up, brought it down again.
Rey’s green-and-red blade caught it, whining and crackling against his. “No!”
Kylo stepped back, disengaging. “Move,” he said, “aside.”
She lowered her lightsaber but still stood between them. “He surrendered! You can’t kill him!”
Kylo snarled wordlessly. “After what they were going to do to you?”
The thug shook his head hard, shaking and panting, his hands still in the air.
“Yes,” she said, quietly enough only he could hear. “Because you’re better than they are.”
It was like she’d plunged his killing rage into a vat of icewater. He slowly straightened.
Rey stepped back, turned to face the last man and pointed her blade at him. “Mast Surko, that was not a favor to you.”
Breathing hard, Kylo pointed his own lightsaber at him. “Take off your mask.”
The thug scrambled to obey, pulling off wrappings and goggles to reveal a face that had seen more than a few too many fights.
Kylo stalked closer until the tip of his blade was centimeters from the goon’s throat. “This Tento Syndicate. You’ll take a message to them.”
The man shook his head, blubbering.
“Yes, you will,” Kylo said, then commanded, “Tell them what you saw here. Tell them what happened on Laharna is nothing compared to what I’ll do if they don’t withdraw. Say it.”
“I-I-I’ll tell them,” the thug stammered. “You sliced Unkar in half. Laharna was nothing.”
Kylo turned to Plutt’s body, drew the blade of his lightsaber through the neck of one half. The stench of burned fish rose with the steam. He scooped up the head, tossed it to the gaping thug. The man fumbled in horror and dropped it.
“Pick it up.” Kylo hissed the command. “It’s your proof.”
The man did, his whole body flinching in protest.
“Leave,” Kylo said. “Don’t come back. Make sure no one else comes, either. Make sure no one touches anything in Rey’s shelter again.”
Holding the half-head at arm’s length, the thug stumbled to one of the speeders and dropped the grisly trophy into a cargo net. It took him three tries to start the speeder, then it shot off into the white glare of Jakku’s sun.
Kylo deactivated his lightsaber.
Rey extinguished her weapon, too, narrowing her eyes. “Why did you kill him? We could’ve got rid of them without!”
He just stared at her. Finally, he managed, “So he could go back and cheat and starve other scavengers? Set his bullies on other women?”
She blinked, and he knew he’d hit home.
Frowning, she made a frustrated gesture. “It’ll just be someone else now. There’ll always be someone else. They never end.”
“They’ll end now,” Kylo growled.
She threw up her hands. “How’re you going to stop them?”
“Make sure someone is there to stop them. Make sure there are rules in place, and that they’re followed. That’s how civilization works.”
He could see her struggling with the idea and suddenly realized: this was the only kind of rule she knew—a strongman who raped and killed, robbed and terrorized anyone weaker. She’d even told him: Ruling means taking away from someone else. No wonder she ran from the idea of rule.
She had a hard, suspicious look. “Rules,” she repeated slowly. “Like the First Order?”
“That’s one way of creating order.” He could see how it would look little different from what she knew. “There are others. You’ll see. I’ll show you.”
How, he didn’t know yet. He only knew that now that he’d seen how she’d been forced to live, he couldn’t leave others to endure the same.
* * *
The small freighter that descended near a small, walled town on Jannessi’s grasslands was the sort that any trader of middling success would own—practical, unremarkable, the same as a thousand others that carried small goods back and forth across the galaxy.
The two masked and black-cloaked figures that descended its boarding ramp gave the lie to that appearance.
At the bottom of the boarding ramp, Magarn Ren sensed around him through the Force, the wind whipping at his cloak. There were no bodies this time, although burned places in the grass visible as they’d landed and a scattering of debris showed where TIE fighters had gone down. The fact that there was so little evidence of fighting suggested that someone had gone to some effort to clean up.
“It feels the same as on that moon,” Embern Ren said. “Dark and light powers combined.”
“It’s more than that,” Magar said. “Almost as if…”
“They’re blending,” Embern finished.
A few speeders whined over the dusty road that cut the grasslands between a line of bluffs on the horizon and the town. People had been conspicuously absent. Magarn would’ve expected that if he’d landed in a First Order shuttle. A trader’s ship, however, should’ve brought them out.
Voices carried on the wind. Another moment, and a contingent of humans and four-armed, three-eyed natives, all armed with blasters, poured out of the town’s massive gates.
Embern’s hand dropped to his lightsaber. “So much for the nondescript ship.”
Magarn held up a gloved hand, a gesture of peace—and of caution.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Embern muttered. “If they’ve seen Kylo in action, they’ll know exactly what you can do.”
“Only if they know I’m a Force-user,” Magarn said, but he quickly lowered his hand.
The armed group stopped close enough they wouldn’t have to shout. A tall native woman and man with trailing ropes of white hair moved to the front. They were unarmed, but two burly humans—brothers, by the look of them—moved to flank them.
“What do you want here, Nightkind?” the woman said in voice that didn’t sound the least bit old.
“Looks like they know,” Embern said dryly.
Magarn ignored him. “I’m Magarn Ren. This is Embern Ren. We’re searching for our brother, Kylo Ren. We believe he came here after he was wounded in an ambush. Have you seen him?”
“We’ve seen him, as I’m sure you know,” the woman said. “What do you want with him?”
Magarn could sense Embern’s uneasiness. A vague, creeping dread stole up on him, tightening his chest and making his heart pound.
Unaccountably, the thought drifted into his mind of Hux’s contempt for the Force, his suspicion that the man would kill every Force-sensitive he could get his hands on once he had what he wanted.
“They’re lightside,” Embern muttered. “Why are they protecting Kylo?”
A voice whispered into Magarn’s mind: The Nightfolk also protect him.
Both Knights whirled. Two red lightsabers ignited. Magarn snapped up his mental shields and the fear gnawing at his guts quieted. It made no sense that it should, since another group of natives had slipped silently up behind them. These weren’t armed, but Magarn had the sense they were much more dangerous.
Despite his shields, the voice still whispered into his mind: Who are you? We saw faces like yours in the mind of our brother. They tried to kill him. They were no brothers of his.
Embern made a move as if to plunge forward and lay about with his lightsaber. On their other side, blasters whined as the safeties came off.
Magarn had no doubt he and Embern could do some damage here…before they were overcome.
He caught Embern’s arm. “Shield yourself!” he hissed. “They’re telepaths!”
“I am shielded!” Embern said. “It’s like trying to shield against Snoke.”
The nearest Jannessi showed sharp teeth in a grin. We opened the Bright-one’s mind, and she was much stronger than you. You will tell us what we ask, or we will take it.
Magarn had raised a hand, prepared to reach for the Force. Now he froze. The Jedi—
Embern voiced the question first. “The Jedi girl was still with Kylo? What’s she doing with him?”
The Jannessi woman held up a long-fingered hand. “No. You answer our questions.”
Magarn looked between the group with the blasters and the telepaths—Nightfolk? Both were clearly of the same species, but mirrors of each other in the Force.
Magarn lowered his hand and extinguished his lightsaber. “Ask.”
The Jannessi woman stepped toward them.
The man beside her caught her arm. “Verrannallu! Don’t trust them!”
“Oh, I don’t.” She nodded at her human guards. They moved to flank her, fingers tight on blaster triggers and eyes locked on the two Knights.
The woman, Verrannallu, approached, looked them up and down. “Is the galaxy so full of Nightkind? It seems that’s the only sort to come to Jannessi.”
“The dark eliminated the light,” Magarn said, watching the blasters as he kept his senses extended to the Nightfolk behind him. “As it always does.”
“Of course it did,” Verrannallu scoffed. “The Force isn’t so easily thwarted. Are you one of those who wounded the Night-one?”
The sudden question almost caught him off guard. Almost. “We all trained together as children. We were all apprentices under the same master. But we weren’t among those who attacked Kylo.”
“I ask again—what do you want with him?”
“Don’t,” Embern growled.
“They already know someone is after him,” Magarn said to him, then answered the woman. “We were also sent to hunt him down. But now…”
“Others came to hunt him down.” Verrannallu gave a sly smile. “They took him away with them.”
Magarn shared a look with Embern. Kylo had supposedly been “neutralized.” Not captured.
“There’s no way they could’ve captured Kylo,” Embern said. “He’s too strong.”
“The ship that came here before us has disappeared,” Magarn said slowly.
The woman folded all four arms. “Is that so? I wonder why.”
“The Jedi,” Embern broke in. His mask turned toward the silently watching Nightfolk. “The one stronger than we are. The one as strong as Kylo. She did something.”
The woman cocked her head, studying them out of three green eyes. “You feel the Force, Nightkind. What do you feel here?”
“Dark and light, joined together,” Magarn said. “We felt the same thing in the place where Kylo was attacked, but we don’t understand.”
The woman looked to the Nightfolk beyond them. “What do you see in their minds?”
It is as they say. A man sent them to hunt our brother, but now they seek him for themselves. They wish to understand.
Magarn stiffened, appalled that he’d been so easily read. Embern’s breath hissed behind his mask.
“And once they do?” Verrannallu said.
If they find strength, they will turn against the one who sent them and join our brother.
She made a disapproving sound and looked them up and down again. “And if you don’t find strength?”
Magarn didn’t answer.
The Nightfolk rustled closer. Embern raised his still-blazing weapon.
A soundless murmur breathed around them, the brush of minds conversing privately.
Verrannallu shrugged and said to the Nightfolk, “Tell them if you wish. I’d rather let them find out for themselves.”
“Kylo is still alive,” Magarn said.
“That Jedi. She’s turned him,” Embern snarled. “It’s the only way she’d help him. The only reason they would.” He gestured dismissively at Verrannallu and her people, then faced the Nightfolk, his weapon shaking in his grasp. “You’re darkside, and you let her. You could’ve helped him—”
They are bound, our brother and the Bright-one, the Nightfolk broke in. We tried to break the bond. He would not allow it.
“We would’ve killed him,” Verrannallu said. “The Bright-one protected him.”
“Bound!” Magarn breathed.
Embern’s sword arm dropped to his side. “Why? How?”
“Do you see us, Brightfolk and Nightfolk, standing together?” Verrannallu gestured between her group and their mirror image. “That is why. How, you have to ask the Force. No one else seems to know.”
Four of the Nightfolk moved close, their yellow eyes reflecting the red of Embern’s weapon. Magarn opened and closed a gloved hand, resisting the impulse to reach for his own lightsaber.
The Nightfolk stand with our brother. His enemy is also ours.
Magarn felt prying minds at the edges of his mental shields.
A flutter of laughter brushed his brain and the sense of prying disappeared. You do not want us as enemies.
“Hux,” Embern said. “He’s going after Hux.”
“With an army of darkside telepaths and a Jedi.” Magarn turned to meet Embern’s eyes behind his mask. “Hux doesn’t know.”
“Would it make a difference if he did?” Embern said. “Hux doesn’t have any use for the Force. He thinks his toys and technology will make it irrelevant.”
“Where did they go?” Magarn asked the Jannessi.
“If we knew, do you think we’d tell you?” Verrannallu said.
He turned to the Nightfolk. “You’re telepaths. You know.”
Our brother returned to us our freedom. We go where we wish now.
Verrannallu gave a dry chuckle. “I wouldn’t search for him, if I were you. I doubt he’d trust you. I know the Bright-one wouldn’t.” She looked to the Nightfolk. “What do you think? Do we let them go?”
Magarn had sensed the situation was precarious. He hadn’t realized it was that precarious.
He ignited his lightsaber again. The blade shot out with a menacing hiss.
Minds clamped around his, the same kind of agony Snoke had enjoyed inflicting. He pushed back against it, using the pain to fuel the strength to bear up under it, to remain conscious. Embern’s pained grunts beside him told him he did the same.
The world narrowed to pain, tunneling darkness and the shivering red lines of lightsabers. Terror clenched a cold hand on his bowels, making them quiver. His weapon fell from his hands and the red winked out. As every horror he’d experienced welled up before his mind’s eye, he struggled to keep breathing.
The pain and terror vanished. He found himself on hands and knees, gasping, Embern whimpering beside him.
Voices whispered into his mind once more, grating against raw nerves. Go, Nightkind. Do as you wish. But remember, we have tasted your minds. Nightfolk roam the galaxy now, and what we know, all know. If you betray our brother, Nightfolk will find you. Then we will feed, long and deep, on your darkness.
Magarn wobbled to his feet, bent and helped Embern to his. Sweat ran down his sides, down his temples and neck beneath his mask and cloak. Verrannallu and her guards watched him, unbothered by what their darkside counterparts had done.
“We understand,” Magarn said.
Carefully, keeping his senses tuned to the watching Jannessi, he bent and picked up his lightsaber. He felt minds teasing at his as he and Embern returned to the ship.
The sensation only stopped when they jumped to lightspeed.
Image credit: Wookiepedia
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