Magnetized – Chapter 5

Ben – Age 13/Rey – Age 3

Ben – Hosnian Prime

The comm on Leia’s desk chimed. “Han Solo is on the comm for you,” Ben’s voice said.

Leia’s lips went to a thin line. “Put him through, please.”

She didn’t miss the fact that Ben never called him “Dad” anymore. In private, it was “my father.” In public, it was either “Han Solo” or “your husband.” That deliberate distance pained her.

A holo of Han flickered to life above the projector in her desk. The communication warned her what was coming. The look on Han’s face confirmed it.

“Leia, I’m sorry—”

“You won’t be here,” she broke in.

He made a rueful face. “I’ve got a meeting with some people. I can’t miss it.”

“Some people” meant people she wouldn’t approve of. She made a face of her own. “Han—”

He waved her argument away. “I know, I know. But if you think I’m just gonna sit back while some…some parasite dicks around in my kid’s head—”

“A parasite strong enough in the Force to reach him across the galaxy,” Leia said. “That’s the sort of thing for Luke to handle. Not you.”

She knew she was insulting him. But she’d rather see him hurt and angry than dead. The only reason Darth Vader (she still couldn’t think of that…that butcher as “father”) hadn’t killed him on Bespin when Han shot at him was because Vader intended to use him as bait to flush Luke out of hiding.

“Luke has to find him, first, sweetheart,” Han said, unruffled. “He doesn’t have my contacts.”

Leia leaned her head in her hand, then raised it again. “Be careful.”

Throwing his arms wide, he grinned. “Hey, when am I ever not careful?”

“Always,” Leia said drily, said her goodbyes and ended the connection.

She lowered her head to her hands again, massaging her temples. When Luke had told her what Ben had been fighting all alone all these years, she’d made a resolution. Ben wouldn’t be alone anymore. Not one more day.

She’d steeled herself for Ben to argue with her proposal. She’d ended up feeling guilty instead. He always seemed so independent, so self-contained. He didn’t seem to need anyone, not even friends (Leia had to admit some concern on that front). His undisguised eagerness showed how lonely he’d been. How starved for parental attention.

Smoothing her hair, she stood, crossed her office and opened the door. “Ben.”

He looked up from the datapad in his hand. Three more were scattered across his desk. He made a fine Senate intern—careful, quiet, discreet, diligent. He was good enough there were some tensions in the office with the staffers and older interns.

He didn’t ask questions, just waited for her to speak.

Leia put on a smile. “How would you like to come with me to the party tonight?”

Anger flashed through his eyes. “My father won’t accompany you.” It was a statement, not a question.

She bristled. “If you knew what he was doing, you wouldn’t take that attitude.”

She spoke freely—the office was empty. The others had gone home for the day.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “He’s looking for the Falcon.”

“No. He’s looking for the person who’s been tormenting you.”

Ben just stared a long moment. “Is that what he told you?”

Anger of her own flared. “Are you saying your father is lying to me?”

Ben had the good sense to drop his gaze. “No.”

“Then what?”

He raised his eyes again. “Nothing, Mother. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

She was almost vibrating with anger. With an effort, she pushed it down. Months. Months, and Ben still hadn’t forgiven Han. She had a sick feeling he never would. Ben was relentless in his feelings. And who knew what poison was being trickled into his mind?

“Wrap everything up,” she said, deliberately gentling her voice. “We need to go back to the apartment and get ready.”

* * *

Your father leaves his family to shift for themselves once again, Snoke whispered. Such obligations must be difficult for such a man.

“Mother doesn’t need anyone to take care of her,” Ben said.

Yet how shameful, to have a husband only in name.

Ben didn’t argue.

I wonder that your mother can defend him.

“She loves him.”

Love, Snoke sneered. Look how weak and foolish it makes people.

Ben didn’t answer.

You disagree?

“Maybe it does,” Ben said. “What’s it matter?”

It matters a great deal when there are sources of strength better suited to people like you and me.

“Like what?”

Passion. Freedom. Triumph. You’ve felt them, have you not?

Ben twitched a shoulder. “Yes…”

Then you know I’m right. You are always at your most powerful when you allow your passions free rein.

Ben changed the subject. “I have to meditate. I’m going to be around a lot of people soon. It’s hard if I don’t center myself.”

Ah, yes, meditate on the light the way your Jedi uncle taught you, Snoke mocked.

Ben meditated on the light, but not the way Luke taught him. When he meditated, he reached out to that little light he sensed. Sometimes, it reached back, sparkling and happy and open.

The light is weak, Snoke went on.

“No,” Ben said, thinking of how that little light uplifted him. How when he touched it, his worries and unhappiness tattered away. Snoke must not sense it, either. If he did, he’d never say it was weak.

Your uncle fears the power of the dark. He’s instilled his fear in you.

Ben bristled. “I’m not afraid of it. Dark, light—they’re both the Force. They’re both equal.”

Snoke didn’t seem to have anything to say to that. Indeed, he said at last. We shall see.

His presence faded from Ben’s mind.

“Ben?” His mother’s voice drifted back to his bedroom. “Are you ready yet? We have to go.”

Ben hurriedly shrugged into his coat, straightened his sleeves and went to meet her.

* * *

Ben opened the door to the automatically-piloted speeder for his mother and closed it behind her. When he’d settled in the other seat and the speeder purred away from the curb, she spoke.

“You watched the holo of the session today?” she asked. “What do you think of Demmin Prout?”

“You know I can’t tell anything without proximity, Mother.”

She waved the words away. “You can read body language, tone of voice, what’s said and not said, just like anyone else. Don’t let your abilities become a crutch.”

Ben sighed silently. Why shouldn’t he depend on his abilities? It was like expecting her to go into a room blindfolded and deafened and figure out what was going on.

Ben answered dutifully, “He talks too much about himself. Everything is about him. He’s the best at everything. He knows more than anybody. I don’t think he’s half as good as he says he is.”

His mother’s smile gleamed out. “Very good, Ben.”

The praise warmed him more that he liked to admit, especially after she’d just scolded him.

“My only question is,” she went on. “Is he really incompetent, or does he only want to seem that way?”

Ben cocked his head. “He’ll be at the party tonight?”

His mother’s smile glinted now. “You bet.”

Ben just nodded. He had his marching orders.

* * *

Drink in hand, Ben stayed close to his mother at the party, that way the thoughts of the people she spoke to were focused on her. It also meant he had to endure the usual share of condescending comments: Only thirteen? You’re already taller than your mother! And, Are you planning to be a Senator like your mother? Or, What a fine boy! You must be so proud of him.

He liked the ones who talked like he wasn’t there, or was too young to understand anything. It meant they paid less attention to him.

The Czerialan senator was hosting the party. The décor in her spacious home was as white as Czerialan hair. Cut glass adorned everything, from the chandeliers and sconces to wall hangings to sculptures. Rainbows sparkled over walls and guests alike. Chimes tinkled, background to the murmur of voices and clink of glasses.

Ben dipped into the thoughts around him. He could almost see the invisible nets of alliances and opposition, the weaving and splitting of associations. There, the senator from Sullust drifted away from her Abednedo and Mon Calamari colleagues to test the ground with the senator from Kuat.

As Mother had suggested, he watched Demmin Prout closely. He was a tall man with a small, neatly-trimmed mustache, large hands and a high forehead, not particularly good-looking, but with a strange kind of charisma. Like a neutron star, he seemed to pull people into his gravity field. Ben could grudgingly see how people might take his grandiose claims seriously.

The flock of captivated sycophants in his orbit at the moment dispersed as two hardline Centrists glided up. Prout beamed.

Ben could feel the two Centrists’ contempt and cunning and sense of superiority, Prout’s preening pleasure. It was clear enough what was going on—they were flattering him, stroking his oversized ego.

Ben sipped his icewine and filed the information away to share later.

As his mother talked to this person and that, he became aware of attention on them. One hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other around the cool glass of his sweating drink, he turned to find the source.

Demmin Prout.

Ben dipped into his mind. The next instant, he snatched himself back, shocked.

There were hardly any clear thoughts there, just images and emotions.

The emotions were hunger and lust. The images were of his mother.

Ben’s heartbeat ramped up, fury running through him like electricity. The liquid in his glass rippled, the ice tinkling against the sides, either from the shaking of his hand or the Force—which, he didn’t know. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed hard, trying to swallow down the thick, heavy thump of his heart.

Prout began to make his way toward them. Ben didn’t take his eyes from the man, not even when he stood in front of Mother, smiling at her as he spoke. When his mother introduced him, Ben barely had the presence of mind to dip his chin politely. With Prout this close, the images were so clear Ben had to deliberately close his mind to them. Heat burned up his neck to his ears.

It took every ounce of control to keep the Force from answering him. Still, the liquid in his glass rippled steadily, a shivering vibration. He stared at Prout, warning, letting him know he was watching. Prout noticed. Oh, yes he did. He only gave Ben a patronizing smile.

Ben almost missed the man saying to his mother, “…I’d love to discuss it with you, if you have a minute or two.”

Ben opened himself enough to see exactly what Prout planned.

No, Ben thought and gave the glass in Prout’s hand the briefest, tiniest push with the Force.

The glass slipped out of Prout’s fingers, hit the white-tiled floor and shattered, splashing bright red-orange liquid over his slacks and shoes.

Cursing, Prout brushed futilely at his clothes.

Ben watched for one satisfying moment, then said, “I’ll get something to clean it up.”

His mother’s eyes on him were narrow.

The sound of breaking glass and Prout’s exclamations had already attracted attention. People around them stared, and a few muffled titters sounded. A serving droid rapidly wove its way toward them through the other guests.

The droid took charge. “Not to worry a bit, sir,” she said to Prout. “We’ll get everything sorted directly. If you’ll kindly come with me.”

Ben brushed Prout’s mind again. There was nothing there now but anger and embarrassment, and what he’d like to do to the overgrown whelp staring like an idiot even now.

He tore his eyes from Ben to give Mother a smile. “Excuse me, Senator Organa. I’m afraid we’ll have to continue our discussion later.”

Not if I have anything to do with it, Ben thought.

His mother murmured something appropriate and sympathetic. When Prout moved away with the droid, she casually steered Ben to a quiet corner.

“What was that, Ben?”

His heart beat hard again, but for a different reason this time. He sidestepped the question. “I don’t like him.”

“I could sense that,” she said dryly. “Any particular reason?”

He clenched his jaw. He would not tell his mother what he’d seen in the man’s mind. “He’s vile,” he finally said.

“Of course he is. Loudmouth braggarts usually are.” She studied him long enough he had to keep from squirming. “Did you find out anything useful?”

Ben relaxed. She might’ve sensed his disgust and rage, but not his flick of the Force. The party went on around them, the buzz of chatter and burble of muted laughter enough to give them privacy.

“Anyone who tells him nice things about himself, he loves,” Ben said. “Anyone he thinks is weaker—” He stopped.

“Well?”

The anger rose again, thick in his throat. He swallowed it down. “He’ll try to bully them.” He hesitated. “Take advantage of them.” His voice came out rough.

His mother eyed him shrewdly. “He thinks I’m weak?”

Ben ground his teeth. He nodded once.

“But you know better,” she said.

He nodded again.

“Good.” She patted his arm. “So he’s a tool,” she said, changing the subject back to Prout. “I thought so. A few people I know think he’s a brilliant strategist. I was pretty sure he was only driven by his ego. So who’s stroking it and why?”

Ben opened his mouth to answer, but she waved him silent.

“No, later,” she said. “If we keep our heads together much longer, people will be sure I’m up to something.”

Ben returned her grin with a little smile of his own, more pleased to be here than he had been before.

 

Rey – Age 3 – Jakku

“Rey!” Hound called. “What are you doing? Get back here!”

“Something here, Dad!” Her voice echoed in the dark compartment she’d crawled into.

He braced a hand on the bent strut that framed the opening. Like him, Rey had her own knack for finding things. Often, they were the kinds of things that caught a child’s fancy—a holo of a family party; a music box; an officer’s bars; a piece of scrap in an interesting shape.

“I don’t care,” he said. “It’s dark in there.” His own headlamp only illuminated bobbing specks of dust.

“I not afraid of the dark.” Her indignant protest was a little farther away. “I like dark.”

Hound ran a hand down his face. The kid was a born scavenger. Fearless. A little too fearless sometimes.

“I know you do, Sparkle. But I don’t want you getting lost. Or hurt. Come back. Right now.”

“I not get hurt.”

A frantic flutter started in his chest. He’d started taking Rey along to the wrecks because he figured she was better off with him than Gilee. Gilee was good enough—barely—to get the stuff he brought in ready for trade. But he didn’t trust her with Rey anymore. Not the way she was afraid of her. The way—

The way Rey’s uncanny abilities revolted her. Now he was conjuring all the reasons she would’ve been better off with Gilee at the shelter.

Rey must’ve sensed his agitation. “Wait, Dad. I almost got it…”

There was a slide, a bang, then a plume of dust clouded the beam of his light.

“Rey?” he called, then more frantically, “Rey!”

He pulled a prybar from his belt and attacked the opening.

“It okay, Dad!” her voice called. “I get it! It under the metal, and the metal fall and make a loud noise, but I get it out!”

Breathing hard, Hound waved the dust away and peered into the darkness. After a moment, Rey appeared, her grime-smeared little face stretched in a brilliant grin, her hazel eyes bright with triumph.

“Look, Dad!” She thrust out a hand.

A necklace dangled from her grubby fist. It glittered in the light of his lamp—platinum, since it wasn’t tarnished, with a starburst of pink and yellow stones. It could’ve been junk jewelry, but the way the stones glittered after the heat of the ship’s entry into Jakku’s atmosphere, the dust of decades, he knew it wasn’t.

Hound sat down hard on the buckled deck. “Oh, Sparkle!” was all he could manage.

She crawled through the opening, so covered with dust she was all one color, hair, skin and clothes. “Somebody love it. I feel it here.” She put a hand on her chest. “It for Mama. She love it, too. She love it, Dad? Will she?”

He pulled Rey into his lap and against his chest. “It’s beautiful, Sparkle. I know she’s never seen anything so beautiful. Yeah, I think she’ll love it.”

* * *

Gilee loved the necklace all right, but not for the reason Rey intended.

Gilee’s eyes lit with pure avarice. “D’ya know what we can get with this? Credits! Somebody’ll give us real credits for this!”

Hound looked back. Rey was engrossed in picking through their spoils for the day.

He leaned close to Gilee. “When Rey found this, the first thing she said was that you’d love it. She wants you to have it, Gilee.”

Gilee frowned.

“She found this, she’ll find more,” Hound soothed. “Just keep it. Wear it. Make your kid happy for once.”

Gilee peered at Rey where she sat in the tumble of starship parts. “She’ll find more?”

“She’s got my knack. If she knows it’s what we want, yeah, she’ll find more.”

A cunning look flitted across Gilee’s face, then she smiled. She ducked her head to put on the necklace. “Rey, look! Look how much Mama loves the pretty necklace you found!”

Rey looked up and clapped her hands, beaming. She jumped up, ran to Gilee and threw her arms around her legs. “I happy, I happy, I happy!”

Gilee awkwardly patted her head, her face softening. “I’m glad, baby. You did good.”

* * *

Hound stood in the Ravager’s vast hangar, looking up. The ceiling (what had once been the flight deck) was lost in darkness even the powerful hand light he held couldn’t pierce. Rey held onto his pant leg, looking up, too.

“Something up there,” she said. The space was so huge it swallowed her voice. Not even echoes returned.

“Yeah,” Hound said. “I feel it too, but I’ve never been able to get up there. Nobody has. Whatever’s there…” He shook his head appreciatively. “It’d make a real fine haul.” He ruffled Rey’s hair. “Come on, Sparkle. We’ll find something else just as good.”

He started toward the old lift shaft, turning to make sure Rey was following. She still stood looking up, a frown on her face. After a moment, she raised a small hand toward the ceiling.

The sound of metal groaning came from the darkness high above. There was a sudden screech, a crack, then a loud twang.

Adrenaline spiked through him, cold and breathless. Hound lunged, scooped up Rey and ran.

A thunderous roar filled the hangar. Something fell behind him with a deafening crash and clang, and a cloud of dust and metal flakes exploded into the beam of his light. Rey hung on tight around his neck, squealing in fear. He had long enough to worry he’d completely lost his bearings before the noise subsided into groans, clanks and pops. Clutching Rey tight, Hound turned.

His beam swept a toppled AT-AT walker, completely intact from the transparasteel command module to the feet crumpled under it. He stared at it, trying to make sense of where it had come from.

“I sorry, Dad!” Rey blubbered into his ear. “It fall! I want it to come down. I don’t want it to fall!”

Hound breathed hard, her words reeling through his mind. He tried to speak. Nothing came out. He tried again. “You made it come down?”

“I feel it up there and I want it to come down and I don’t want to smash us. I hurt you, Dad? I don’t want to hurt you.”

His legs started wobbling. He sank to his knees as they buckled.

This wasn’t making a flask float. This wasn’t like sensing people, or knowing where to find the best stuff.

This was something else.

Rey patted his shoulders. “I sorry, Dad. Did I do bad? I sorry. Don’t be scared.” She was crying again, tears glistening on her face in the harsh light of his lamp.

“No, baby. No, you didn’t do bad.” His voice came out shaky and thin. “You did real good. The best.” He took a breath. “But listen. You can’t tell anybody. Not even Mama. You know how scared she gets when you do things like this? Well, it’ll scare lots of people. This, what you just did, it has to be our secret. Just you and me. Nobody else, understand?”

Her eyes were huge, her lips trembling. “Okay, Dad. It bad?”

“It’s not bad,” he reassured her, stroking her hair back from her face. “I promise. It’s special. It’s just like when we find a good haul. We have to keep it secret so nobody tries to take it away from us. Right?”

She stuck her fingers in her mouth and nodded. She took her fingers out of her mouth long enough to pronounce, “It a secret.”

“Right.” He pushed to his feet on shaky legs. “Now come on. That’s a fresh wreck. Let’s get the good stuff before other scavengers come.”

 

Ben – Hosnian Prime

Ben startled awake. His eyes flicked around his dim bedroom—the familiar furniture, his starfighter models, the shadows of clothes through the partially-open door of his closest sketched in tones of grey by the streetlight that filtered through the blinds.

Disoriented, he sat up. He’d just been in a huge, dark space smelling of metal and oil and dust, a crumpled Imperial walker picked out in a beam of bluish-white light. The Force eddied around him strangely, almost as if someone had been using it. Who could’ve—? He brushed it, alarmed—

And touched blazing light.

The light! Here?

His heart hammering, he reached out to it.

 

Rey – Jakku

Rey gasped. Elbow-deep in the AT-AT’s control panel, Hound wrenched around.

She crouched in one of the pilots’ seats, a Pilex bit driver ready to hand to him. Staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and mouth in a little “O” of surprise, she said, “He here!”

Hound straightened to his knees and peered out the viewports, scanning for any sign of a light that would announce they had company. “Who? Where?”

She waved a hand upward. “Him! He live in the sky, in the dark where it nice and cool and, and, and comfy, like a shady place. Sometimes I feel him inside, but he here!”

Closing her eyes, she held out both hands as if reaching for someone.

 

Ben – Hosnian Prime

Ben caught his breath and froze. The light poured over him like spring sunlight. Closing his eyes, he opened himself. The light rushed in, filling the dark places in him with warmth and joy and wonder.

 

Rey – Jakku

The untouched AT-AT was Hound’s best haul in months. He stripped as much as he could before their light and water ran out, loaded the speeder until the repulsors groaned, then quickly cached the rest in the rapidly darkening desert.

He smacked palms with Rey after he lifted her into the speeder’s passenger seat. “Good job, Sparkle!”

She grinned and returned the praise, the way they always did. “Good job, Dad!”

Hound swung into the pilot’s seat, gunned the engines and sent them flying across the dim landscape, the dust that plumed behind them glowing faintly in the light of the bright band of stars that stretched across Jakku’s sky.

When they returned to the shelter, Gilee lay on her back under the awning, staring up at nothing. Hound passed her with only a glance as he unloaded the haul. Rey, trotting at his heels, stopped by her mother.

She was used to seeing her this way, so Hound was surprised when Rey cried out, “Mama!”

He turned back to see her crouched by Gilee.

“Your necklace gone!” Rey said. “Dad, somebody steal Mama’s pretty necklace I found!”

Hound dropped his armful of salvage. He’d known this was going to happen.

He went and crouched by Rey. “Somebody must’ve taken it off her when she was fuzzed,” he lied.

Better than telling her Gilee had sold it for her dose of junk.

Rey’s brows went down and her fists clenched. “I find them. They won’t do it again.”

Her anger rippled around him like heat waves.

Hound rubbed her back soothingly. “We just have to hide everything we find from now on, right? That way nobody will take it away from us.” Especially Gilee.

Rey’s little face was still black as a sandstorm. “They better not!”

“They won’t, Sparkle. I promise.” He ruffled her hair. “Now go sort out our haul so I can get it stowed someplace safe.”

She stood fuming a moment more, then spun and stomped away to dig through the salvage. Hound watched her a moment, seething on her behalf.

He turned back to Gilee. Elbow on knee, he bent and whispered, “That’s it, Gilee. You had your chance. You’re not getting one more flask of spirits or one more grain of spice from me. From now on, you want junk, you’re on your own.”

If Gilee heard him, she didn’t show it. She’d understand tomorrow.