Leia sank into her chair, gripping the edge of the control panel to support herself. She hurt. And she was just so tired. The pain had been constant since the Force had enabled her to survive the icy vacuum of space. But now, it was worse.
To look at Ben’s face, and see nothing there—no fondness, no warmth, no compassion, hardly any recognition—this was what heartbreak must feel like. This crushing pain, this unbearable pressure that took her breath.
Surrender. Is this what we’ve come to? Is this all that’s left?
Voices babbled around her. “Where’s Luke? She was supposed to bring him!” “How did Rey fall into their hands?” “Rey would never turn! Never!”
Poe knelt by her chair. “General, this place is perfect for guerrilla warfare. We can take them out as they come through that hole they blasted in the shield. We can hide in the tunnels and get them when they try to come after us. We can plant booby traps—”
For how long? Leia thought. They’ll have us picked off in a day. Two at the most.
No, she couldn’t say that. A leader’s most important job was to inspire confidence. Not tear down hope. But despair crushed the air from her body.
She pushed the heel of her hand against her chest, took a steadying breath. “Good. Any other ideas?”
“We might be able to—”
A strange buzzing filled her ears, drowned out the sergeant’s voice. The pain in her chest and back crowded out awareness of anything else. She tried to raise her arm, to speak, to breathe, but her body wouldn’t respond.
The world slid sideways into darkness.
* * *
Poe caught the general as she slumped and slid out of her chair. There was dead silence for an instant, then everyone erupted.
“General Organa!”
“What happened? What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s collapsed! Get a medpac!”
Her face was grey, her lips blue. He pressed his fingers to her throat. Her pulse felt like the flutter of a dying bird’s wings. Her skin was cool and clammy.
Someone hurried forward with the medpac, flipped open a medical scanner. Poe couldn’t even look to see who it was, every bit of him focused on the horror of what was happening to the woman in his arms.
“It’s her heart,” said the medic—Sergeant Sharp.
Cries of dismay sounded around him. Someone started crying. Someone else kept saying, over and over, “She can’t die. She can’t.”
No. She can’t. There’s nothing left of us if she does.
Poe had been watching her ever since the First Order attacked the Rebel base on D’Qar. How she’d looked a little older, a little more worn with every setback. After the massacre of the fleeing transports. After Vice-Admiral Holdo’s sacrifice. After barricading themselves in this mine, only a handful of them left, with no hope of aid or reinforcements—
The First Order shouldn’t have known about the transports! he railed to himself. They never should’ve known!
They wouldn’t have known, if not for Finn and Rose’s ill-fated mission. The mission he’d set in motion…
He let the medic take Leia from him. “Open a channel! Get that hutt-slime Ren on the comm.”
At the command panel, Kaydel stared at him in shock, then in slowly dawning realization. She turned quickly to the comm, sent out the hail. Kylo Ren’s image shimmered into existence above the holo pad.
Poe set his jaw and swallowed hard. “This is Commander Poe Dameron. We’ll surrender. Under one condition.”
Complete silence fell behind him, broken only by the soft beeps of the unit keeping the general’s heart going.
“Which is?” Ren said.
“Our injured get medical attention. Right now.”
Something unidentifiable flickered across Ren’s face. “Agreed. Bring out your wounded. If any of you has a weapon, if anyone makes a single aggressive move, we’ll destroy all of you.”
“Fine,” Poe snapped. “Just do it.”
Poe nodded at Kaydel. She flipped a switch and the holo of Ren evaporated. The command center suddenly seemed echoingly empty, the handful of survivors huddled around the general and the sergeant attending her.
Poe turned to the shocked and horrified faces around him.
They all glanced at one another. He could see them thinking, Are we really doing this? Will I? Will you?
He felt the same way. He’d had a taste of Kylo Ren’s mercies. Dying might not be so bad. But he wasn’t willing to let the General die.
All eyes were drawn to her. One by one, they nodded. He saw Finn wet his lips and swallow hard.
“Finn?” Poe said. “Not you, buddy.”
Finn’s head jerked up. “No! I—”
“Yeah, I know. I also know what they’ll do if they get their hands on you. A deserter? You won’t even get the—” questionable, he thought but didn’t say, “—protections of a prisoner of war.” He stepped up to Finn and put a hand on his shoulder. “We need someone on the outside. So we can still hope.”
The look on Finn’s face when Ren had pulled Rey in front of him— Like he’d been blaster-shot point-blank in the gut.
In a lower voice, Poe said, “Rey, in that last transmission? We need you out in case it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“I told you, Rey’d never betray us,” Finn said, hot. “If she’s there, it’s because she doesn’t have a choice.”
Poe wasn’t convinced. But he needed to convince Finn. “Take BB-8. Hide out until the First Order is gone. Then get out of here.” He turned to the others. “Anyone who wants to go with him, I won’t think less of you.” He looked around him. “No one will.”
No one answered, even looked a question at any of the others.
He nodded once. “Okay. Let’s go out there and get help for General Organa.”
* * *
Something rippled through the Force. Kylo’s breath stopped. Pain. No, more—death. His heart pounded inexplicably. Get our wounded medical attention. Now, the pilot had said.
Someone was dying. The choking dread Kylo felt told him who.
His shuttle now hovered over the assault force on Crait—so much firepower against such a diminished enemy. A tiny figure, arms raised, stepped out of the glowing red hole the siege cannon had torn in the blast doors.
Kylo’s grip on the back of the co-pilot’s seat tightened until the plastic creaked. “Send a medvac unit to meet them.”
He could sense Hux’s contempt and disgust. Butcher, Kylo thought. A rabid cur… Yes. Without a doubt. Hux would kill this pitiful remnant of rebels and make martyrs of them, dead heroes for new rebels to rally around. But Hux didn’t have enough soul in him to realize that.
More figures were trickling out, a ragged line accompanying a couple of freight gurneys over the blood-red battleground.
“Destroy the base, then return to the fleet,” Kylo said. “We’re finished here.”
Kylo turned and brushed past Hux. The other man didn’t acknowledge his order, even bother to step aside.
Kylo stopped, glanced aside at him. “You have an objection, General?”
“None at all,” Hux said. “Pass along the Supreme Leader’s order, Lieutenant. And notify the Finalizer of our return.”
Kylo suppressed his annoyance. He didn’t have time for power games.
* * *
Finn pounded deeper into the mine, hating himself more with every step he took. The light he held bobbed, tiny and struggling in the echoing darkness. The salt in the air burned his lungs, stung his eyes. BB-8 rolled along behind him, shining a light of his own to help guide them.
Poe’s right, he told himself. Someone has to stay on the outside. Someone has to be ready to help Rey.
Finn didn’t believe for an instant that she’d betrayed them. He knew Rey—the rest of them didn’t. Kylo Ren had somehow captured her again, maybe when she followed the beacon back to them. Then, once he had her, how hard would it be to force her cooperation in exchange for the lives of her friends?
Rey would do it without thinking twice. That, he was sure of.
But what happened to Luke? What about Chewie and the Falcon? Ren hadn’t said a word about them. Where were they?
An impact shook the ground. Salt crystals pattered around him like rain. The deep boom of artillery echoed along the tunnels.
BB-8 gave an alarmed whistle, his head swiveling to look back. Finn cursed aloud. The First Order wouldn’t leave this place standing. By the time they were finished, the mine would be a smoking red hole in the ground. Ignoring his burning muscles, he ran harder.
Twin lights suddenly appeared close to the floor far ahead. Finn stumbled, then realized what they were. Eyes. A flicker and flash of crystal reflected his light as one of native critters turned and bounded away. Pressing a hand to the stitch in his side, Finn followed it.
The booms became incessant. The floor shook so hard he lurched from side to side across the tunnel. Against the dust filling the air, the light made a featureless circle. Coughing, he covered his face with one arm. He stumbled into a wall, felt along it and found a side corridor. A lull in the bombardment, and he heard the yip-yip and tinkle of the creature running ahead of him.
From the sound, the tunnel was growing smaller. He ran with his free hand held out head-high so he wouldn’t crash into the ceiling, then burst through the wall of dust to find himself in a larger chamber.
He squinted. Light glowed through gaps in a jumbled wall of rock. His guide scampered up, dove into a gap—a very small gap—wiggled through and disappeared.
Panting, Finn bent over, hands braced on knees. “Don’t panic,” he said aloud. “Don’t panic.”
BB-8’s whistle sounded much the same.
Setting his jaw, Finn hurried to the rockfall, grabbed a loose rock and heaved. “Stay close to the wall, BB-8.”
A rush and roar came from the tunnel behind him. Dust exploded into the air. Finn dragged away rocks as fast as he could.
A blast knocked him off his feet. On hands and knees, he scrambled toward the wall where BB-8 sheltered. The rumble of rock falling went on and on.
We’re going to be buried alive. It’s all been for nothing.
He tucked up as tight as he could and put his arms over his head. Falling rock battered him. Teeth gritted, eyes squeezed tight, he waited for the one that would crush him. It didn’t come. After endless seconds, light glowed through his closed eyelids. Fresh air tumbled over him. BB-8 gave an series of excited beeps and whistles.
Finn raised his head and opened his eyes. Bright daylight. There, maybe shoulder-high, an opening.
Another boom came. Rock slid and grated.
He bolted. “Come on, BB-8!”
He heaved the little droid up the shifting rock toward the opening. BB-8 shot out a cable and pulled himself through, knocking a few more rocks out of the way. Fin squeezed after, not caring how much the salt-coated rock scraped and cut his hands.
He shaded his eyes against the light that reflected blindingly from the white salt cliffs. A line of crystal critters scampered up the rock wall opposite. He followed them with his eyes to the top of the cliff. And there—
There was the Millenium Falcon, Chewie beginning a scrambling descent to meet them.
If Chewie and the Falcon are here…
The first thin, cold doubt trickled down Finn’s spine.
* * *
Rey’s arrival on the Finalizer wasn’t all that different from when she’d come to the Supremacy. Only when she followed Kilo this time, there was no stormtrooper guard, and she didn’t wear restraints.
He didn’t speak as they made their way through the ship’s corridors to the medcenter. She suspected he was only barely aware of her presence.
Something’s happened, she thought. Something bad. She could feel it. The dread she sensed in Kylo—
Sudden realization hit her. It’s Leia. That’s the only way they would’ve surrendered. Rey went cold.
The medcenter door whisked open. A flurry of droids and humans buzzed around a med table. A life support unit nearly swallowed a small, familiar figure gowned in grey. Rey’s heart sank.
Yes, it was Leia. How fragile she looked! All the strength and vitality leached away, leaving her sunken and vulnerable. Rey took a step, ready to rush over to her, then stopped. This is Ben’s mother, she reminded herself.
She looked up at him. His face was expressionless. But his fists clenched, and she could see how fast his breaths came. Deliberately, she stepped back.
One of the human physicians looked around at them. “This area is restrict—” She abruptly swallowed the rest and quickly turned back to her patient.
“How is she?” Kylo asked, his voice flat.
An all-white medical droid padded near. “She’s suffering from heart failure. We are attempting to stabilize her. I should warn you, sir, the delay in treatment has resulted in a poor prognosis for recovery.”
Kylo’s throat bobbed in a swallow.
Go to her, Ben!
He glanced around as if he’d heard her thought. Rey met his eyes, saw pain swimming far in the depths.
Go on!
He took one step, then another, finally towering like a grim shadow over Leia. His hands clenched and unclenched, then at last, he reached out hesitantly to take her frail fingers in his.
“Mother.”
Leia’s eyes flickered open. “Ben.” Her fingers curled around his.
Rey swallowed tears, for herself, for him.
Kylo was right. This all had to end, this whole, stupid, endless battle. If there were no Jedi and Sith, no First Order and rebellion, there would be none of this—a mother and son hopelessly divided.
Rey caught the human physician’s eye. The woman hesitated, then seemed to recognize the awkwardness of her presence and quietly moved away to a diagnostic display.
Leia’s gaze roved around the medbay. “I’m on your ship?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes. “The others?”
“Safe. As I promised.”
“For how long?”
Kylo’s lips gave a bitter twist. “Always worried about someone else.”
But not him? Rey thought. One of their conversations from the island rushed back, when she’d asked him why he killed Han Solo. Your parents abandoned you, he’d said. Threw you away like garbage, but you can’t stop needing them. She thought he’d avoided her question, talking about her instead. He hadn’t. He’d been talking about himself.
The knowledge took her breath. His mother had sent him away. His uncle wanted to kill him. His father… What had Kylo said after he caught her that first time? He’ll disappoint you.
She suddenly felt an intruder, witnessing things far more intimate than she had any business knowing.
“Rey?”
She started at Leia’s voice. She glanced a question at Kylo. He lifted a hand as if to bring her forward, but then only made a slight, inviting gesture.
She took an uncertain step to the med table, laid a gentle hand on Leia’s shoulder.
“What happened?” Leia said.
Rey glanced up at Kylo again. She didn’t want to talk about this now.
“Luke wasn’t there,” she lied. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie. Was the man she’d found on that island the brother Leia had known? “When I followed the beacon back—”
“Chewie?” Leia said, her eyes widening in alarm.
“No, no,” Rey said desperately, realizing she was digging herself in deeper and deeper. “He escaped—”
“She came to ask my help, Mother,” Kylo put in, sparing her.
Leia’s eyes widened even more, then narrowed. “And did you?”
“Yes,” Rey said, thinking of Snoke lopped in half, his guards lying in heaps on the floor.
“I’ve done what I can,” Kylo said.
Leia shook her head, frowning, and Rey saw how formidable she must’ve been as a mother.
“You can do…” Leia’s lips pinched in pain. “…so much more…”
“Yes, I can always be more—” Kylo began, a current of anger in his voice.
“Forgive me, sir.” The physician hurried to his side. “I must ask you to step away.” She quickly broke from his gaze. “For her sake,” she added.
Kylo stood where he was a moment, looking down on his mother with an indecipherable expression. Then he let her hand go and moved back.
Rey scuttled back, too, wanting to escape the air thick with too much pain.
The physician and droids closed around Leia again.
Rey flinched when Kylo spoke, afraid of what he’d say. “Have her wounds treated,” he ordered a medtech.
She’d almost been able to forget her wounds. He hadn’t. And his own still needed treatment.
To Rey, he said, “I’ll take you to quarters when you’re finished.”
He looked back at Leia for one, long moment, then turned and left the medcenter.
* * *
While droids tended the plasma burn on her shoulder and the lump on her head, Rey had enough time to worry about what “quarters” would involve. A prison cell? Or…something worse?
Kylo ushered her to something she’d never imagined. It was a room, however austere, with a real bed, a small sitting area and desk and—incredible luxury!—a bathing cubicle. And she’d thought her bunk on the Millennium Falcon fine. She made short work of washing off the stink of fear and battle, fell face-first onto the bed and didn’t move again.
Rey jolted awake sometime during the night. Disoriented, her heart pounding, she opened her eyes on the dim, unfamiliar room.
She pushed upright, listening. She’d heard a wail of pain, she was sure of it. But now there was nothing, only the sound of her own breathing and the hush of air through a vent.
No, not nothing. She still felt it, the raw, ragged pulse of grief and guilt. She scrambled up, dressed quickly and crossed to the door. She stood a long moment, her hand on the cold metal, then stepped out into the corridor.
She followed the pain like the acrid scent of smoke. Her chest tightened, her breath coming quicker.
“Hey! You!” A stormtrooper stepped in front of her. “Who are you? Where’re you going?”
The Force funneled around her.
“Move,” Rey said through her teeth, “out of my way.”
The stormtrooper reeled back as if struck. She stepped around him and strode off down the corridor.
No one else bothered her. She felt them glance, then glance away as if she burned white-hot. Finally, she stood outside another door in another corridor with no idea how she’d gotten there.
Here. She was certain. She swallowed hard and palmed the door open.
Inside, low light illuminated an almost-bare chamber little larger than her quarters. The First Order emblem emblazoned a banner hanging on the opposite wall.
His back to her, Kylo sat by a raised platform. Leia lay there, dressed in a soft, shimmering grey gown, her hair loose around her head and shoulders. Rey’s hand flew to her mouth. A slight movement of Kylo’s head told her he heard her, but he didn’t turn.
Rey fisted her hands and took long, slow breaths, willing her emotions under control. With Kylo’s bombarding her, it was doubly hard. Without deciding to, she took a step, then another, until she finally stood by him. He still didn’t move, didn’t look up. His face was perfectly impassive, but he turned a ring over and over in his fingers in a sort of desperate restlessness.
“The signet of the Princes of Alderaan,” he finally said, displaying the ring between thumb and forefinger. His voice was distant. “Mine now. Prince. Of a dead world.”
Rey looked at him in startlement.
“I held her hand, Rey,” he whispered. “I tried to hold her here. I couldn’t.”
Hesitant, half-afraid, she laid a hand on his shoulder. A tremor went through him. After a long moment, he reached over to cover her fingers with his.
Missed the first chapter? Read it here.