Star Wars- In another Life.

Chapter 29- Visions

Allegiant General Pryde was a tall man with a long face and a character that seemed to fit his name- pride. The man was prideful, disdainful and contemptuous, and it emanated from him in waves as he stood with his chest puffed out. The pallor of the skin on his face was pale due to a lack of natural light. The sallow flesh clung tightly to the mould of this skull, making him appear skeletal. His long fingers were bony with perfectly trimmed nails at the end. His hair had once been jet black but now was streaked with grey and thinning. It was slicked back against his head perfectly, not a hair out of place, adding to the illusion of a skeleton. His mouth was grimly set, two thin lines barely perceptible, their colour so similar to that of the rest of his pale face. Allegiant General Pryde was a man of science; he wasn't a soldier. Pryde had fought no battles; he'd never even been amongst the troops at his command. He had no physical strength, no wounds, no scars. His face wasn't ragged from years of manning battleships' bridges or losing his soldiers. From seeing him physically, it was evident how he had made his way up in the First Order. His rise to power was through twisted genius and self-serving ruthlessness.

Pryde stood, arms linked behind his back, staring out the bridge observation window as flashes of blue light from the static storms of Exegol lit up the armada of Star Destroyers and Dreadnoughts. A rather uncharacteristic razor-thin smile currently replaced the usually grim expression. Triumphant yet sadistic, similar to his previous expression but distinctly different. Joy was something he'd rarely felt, but he revelled and indeed marvelled at this moment in the power around him, power at his command. General Hux stood at his side, silent, mildly cowering, not his usual character, his eyes red and his manner agitated. Pryde had been more than scathing regarding his protégé Hux's failure and subsequent grovelling regarding the destruction of Starkiller Base and the First Order's puppet ruler Snoke's demise. He had given Armitage such authority, believing that the young man he'd steered in his footsteps away from the violent hands of his father was ready for the responsibility. He'd seen so much potential, so much of himself in the younger officer- Hux was efficient, disciplined and exceptionally intelligent. Hux had proved himself by destroying the Hosnian System, but his obsession and rivalry with the Solo boy had cost them dearly. It was a severe error of judgment one Pryde had viciously chastised the young General over. Command stripped from him, Hux would relay his orders and would not be allowed out of his sight, him and his chrome bodyguard Phasma. She at least had ensured Hux's survival; she could be counted on to act rationally and obey orders unflinchingly.

The Resistance knew the truth, who the First Order's real leader was; war was coming for them all. However, the First Order still had the advantage in every way. The Resistance was in the dark about the armada at Pryde's command and possibly the fact that he even existed. If they even knew his name, it would mean little to them, just another of their enemy's officers. Pryde's history in the Empire was long-standing, far before Vader's betrayal and had been kept a closely guarded secret. Pryde had salvaged Sidious; the Contingency had been formed by Pryde's design at the Emperor's bequest, his loyalty to Palpatine unflinching.

The Resistance didn't know the location of Exegol or how to get here, which was practically impossible without a First Order ship or officer, and the defector, Kylo Ren's clearance, had been erased. His destiny appeared to be like his grandfather before him- a traitor. Treachery, it would appear, ran in the Skywalker bloodline along with their Force abilities. The decimation of Starkiller Base was a setback, to be sure, but the Resistance was doomed, the First Order would rise, and the Emperor would retake his rightful place as ruler of the Galaxy as he had been once before. The Galaxy needed to be ruled, and though many would hate to admit it, they wanted to be ruled. Freedom was anarchy; peace through order would be restored.