Breeder ~ A Kylo Ren Fanfiction

46

Kylo Ren's POV

After the disaster with the Naharians, all future banquets were prohibited indefinitely. According to Egon, this would have calamitous consequences with our intergalactic relations, but I didn't give a shit. If he or anyone thought we had a chance of defeating the Republic non-violently, they were fools. A militaristic annihilation was the only answer.

 Hux seemed to understand this at least, and he spent most of his time working on the new laser canon we were installing in the heart of Starkiller Base. The prototype had been- as that blonde breeder surmised- a replica of the Death Star, but the final product would be far more devastating.

Most days, I wandered around in the cavernous space in the heart of the planet, watching the mechanics on wires installing carefully crafted chunks of metal. Stormtroopers patrolled the halls, blasters out, pointing at the engineers who'd been stolen from various universities to work against their will on the weapon. A couple had tried to sabotage the work and receive a wift death via blaster bolt to the back of the head. No one tried that shit now.

With the banquets banned at the gestation suites treated like a vault, I hadn't seen Astrid in weeks. She knew my deepest secret (at least a part of it) and I knew hers. Our histories were more similar than I could've imagined.

"Impressed, Commander Ren?" Orion approached me, smirking smugly.

"We'll see when it's completed."

He watched over the steady progress, satisfaction painted across him haughty features. "Finally, years of careful planning will come to fruition. All the troopers, breeders, and now, the ultimate weapon. The Republic will fall, the Resistance will fall to ruin, and the First Order will reign supreme over the whole galaxy."

I rolled my eyes. It was one thing to talk like this during a speech, but in casual conversation, it was cringe-inducing. I was never patriotic, despite being a commander. All I wanted was to cut down whomever I wanted, use the force in any way I saw fit, and follow the legacy of my grandfather, the legacy my parents and uncle kept from me. Snoke let me do all those things, encouraged me to tap into the dark side of the force, and he wanted Luke dead as much as I did. On top of that, the First Order seemed like the natural reincarnation of the Empire, but I couldn't give less of a shit about their "goals', whatever the hell those were. Beyond defeating the Republic, they seemed pretty vague.

"Commanders." Hux approached us, hands behind his back. "The Supreme Leader would like to speak with Ren."

I pushed past him, marching off to the meeting room. "Why are you following me?" I snapped when Hux joined me in the lift.

"He wants to see us both."

I didn't respond, folding my arms in displeasure. He tried to walk beside me into the room, but I moved in front of him, smacking him in the arm with my cloak on the way. Hux snarled but followed behind like the rabid yet loyal dog he was.

"General Hux, and the mightly Kylo Ren."

We kneeled before the massive blue hologram of our master, until a glowing hand beckoned for us to rise.

"The weapon is nearly finished, Supreme Leader," Hux said proudly. "Victory is within our grasp."

"Very good, general, you've served your part dutifully. The First Order owes you a great debt." My lip twitched at Snoke's words, the red-haired man beaming with pride. He must have read my mind, knew this was the last thing I wanted to hear while I was so full of hatred for Hux. "And you, young Ren, what do you have to report?"

"There has been no news of Skywalker, Supreme Leader." 

"What about that Breeder of yours. I heard you've been spending a lot of... unsupervised time with her."

I swallowed thickly, attempting to ignore Hux grinning like an idiot to my right. I told Astrid I wouldn't breathe a word about her Jedi ancestor, and I meant it, but I couldn't keep secrets from Snoke, he saw my every thought, my every desire. "She's well, as is the baby, from what I can tell."

He leaned in, the hologram glitching from the movement. "What a powerful man that child will grow up to be," he said, leering. "What a mighty bloodline it will inherit."

He knew- he'd known the whole time. Perhaps that was the only reason we'd taken Maslot into the web of the First Order. We didn't need a few dozen farmers for the Stormtrooper program, and they certainly didn't have any resources we needed, their location didn't provide tactical advantages. Snoke found the granddaughter of a Jedi, a formidable one conflicted enough in the light side of the force to leave the Jedi Order and father a child. I left the light for the dark, Astrid's family left the light for the grey, the recipe for the perfect supersoldier.

After our "meeting" (an ambush is more like it) I escaped Hux's company as soon as possible, taking the lift up to my floor, but instead of getting out and going to my room to slice up my furniture again, I continued onto the top detainment floor: low security, no torture. Phasma was prowling down the hall, poking into different rooms seemingly at random. She didn't need to be here, this was well below her pay grade, but she always had a taste for tormenting prisoners, even on this floor where explicit maltreatment was prohibited.

"Commander Ren," she said, nodding curtly. "What can I help you with?"

"Release the Breeder."

Her chrome helmet concealed her face, but I could sense her confusion without seeing her expression. "Excuse me, sir, I don't-"

"You're holding a Breeder in one of the boxes, I want her released."

"There are two Breeders on this floor, which one-"

"The blonde Naharian, the girl who got locked up after the banquet, the princess."

"She ruined our alliance, started a riot, I can't just-"

I took two long steps towards her, my face inches from her helmet. Standing up straight, she was my height, but fear made me flinch back. Smelling blood, I went in for the kill. "I want that Breeder back in the gestation suites. If you don't get your troopers to do it, I will cut them all down and take her myself, and you can stick around to clean up the mess."

Without speaking, she led me to the metal box at the end of the hall, tapping in a ten-digit code. The door swung open, a blast of chilly air hitting me in the face.

"Out B-3018, you're done in here."

The skinny, blonde girl crawled up off the floor, pink gown shredded and slipping her narrow shoulders. Phasma grabbed her forearm, slamming the door shut, sealing it with an electronic beep.

"Since when do we call Breeders by their numbers instead of their names?" I asked.

Phasma shoved the Naharain down the corridor, making her stumble. "This one doesn't deserve a name."