"You spent years in a dustbowl, scavenging for survival and counting stars, desperate for answers. Rey, I am standing in front of you, a traitor, to tell you it is right here, by my side."
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⟵ Planet Made of Dust ⟶
Once a verdant world, it quickly evolved into scorched badlands. The furthest-flung rock on a star map, it was the last place war would reach. The isolated planet was a graveyard of scoundrels escaping debt, lost hope, and star destroyers from the Galactic time.
Along the horizon, the sun was ascending to welcome a working day. Through the cascading light, a squadron of TIE fighters came into focus.
It was not often the planet was graced by tourists, therefore, when First Order transport shuttles landed in the outskirts of Niima Outpost, word traveled amongst the village like a sandstorm.
The wings of a landed shuttle rose vertical, commissioning the hatch to hiss and depress into the sandy terrain. Through the exhaust, the Supreme Leader of the First Order disembarked with over a dozen stormtroopers. They marched across the rolling dunes towards a tumbled combat vehicle.
The last time his company dwelled the Western Reachers of the Inner Rim, he was searching for the map to Luke Skywalker. This time, he was still on the prowl for someone. Sniffing out the scent of a recognizable prey like the primitive animal he has become. It was a trail he's been pursuing since Takodana.
Ever since Crait, the Resistance has been dormant.
There has been no considerable offensive sieges, no costly transactions with arm dealers and virtually no ambush blockades during routine raids. The First Order was beginning to reign the galaxy in their absence and they did not need a Starkiller to accomplish it.
General Hux was pleased with the easy victory but the Supreme Leader did not share those feelings. He knew they were preparing and would come back swinging. The son of rebels, he was conscious of their ability to pluck strength from the weakest of willpower.
His impatience had devoured his existence. It absorbed him to a point he could not ignore it anymore and he excelled at neglecting his own emotions. The pleasure of destroying the galaxy metamorphosed into boredom. It was too easy.
The bond between him and the girl was just as quiet as the sleeping defiance. It was not severed after Crait but it had become an untouched part of their souls. Both of the counterparts refusing to make the connection revitalize and breathe again.
She possessed everything that belonged to him. She piloted his father's light freighter, she retained the crystals of his grandfather's demolished lightsaber and everyday woke to the wisdom of his mother.
It was why he was standing on the turf the scavenger once called home. If she was going to take all that was his, he would return the favor.
The armored plates of the fallen structure were corroding, deteriorating from the years of unforgiving sandstorms that tried to bury it. In allowance of the short opening, he ducked his head and entered the AT-AT walker.
Dust had collected on the surfaces and specs floated in the air where glimmers of light came through cracks in the metal sheath. Everything was the way she left it the day she escaped offworld with the traitorous runaway and the BB unit.
He sluggishly removed a glove, running his fingers across a wall covered in scratches. Underneath the layer of grime were sketched marks that counted days. They covered the entire belly of the walker.
He ambled gingerly throughout the space, careful not to trip over her things and being fastidious of the layout. He soaked in every single detail, staining it into his mind. The books on her shelf, a wilted flower and her uncomfortable cot in the corner.
Underneath the console by her bed, there was a box. He opened it slowly. Inside was no treasure and no Skywalker lightsaber like she had found in Maz's castle. It was broken junk that she found worth in. Enough valuation to keep instead of trading for portions so she could eat.
He discerned that they meant something to her.
Outside, he trudged through the dunes to his fleet. The box was under his arm and resting on his waist, in a sturdy grip. He barely stopped at the base of the hatch, not taking a moment to acknowledge the line of pilots, guards, and stormtroopers that awaited his return.
"Blow it up," he seethed through gritted teeth before climbing into his shuttle.
The transports lurched into the sky to return to the Finalizer, leaving behind a growing mass of kindling combustion and blaze that aviated flames and smoke.
He had everything that possessed meaning on his lap and he would give it to her as soon as she and the Resistance came out of hiding.
If it took a threat to Jakku to do just that, it was a risk Kylo Ren was willing to make.
