Kylo Ren stands in a personal chamber accompanied by a Knight of Ren.

"The
attack on D'Qar was futile." One of the most intuitive Knights released his inner thought to the open. To the hearing receptors of Kylo Ren's helmet.

The Knight paused, giving in to a frustrated sigh, his helmets breath adapters echoed through the nearly empty room. The only object, trinket, heirloom, or shrine, whatever novice outsider would find pleasure in calling it that resided in the room was an ancient dilapidated life supporter of an old Sith Lord. Darth Vader.

He continued; "yes. We have achieved a small prize from that victory. Yet, why do I feel The Resistance still continues to slip right through our fingers?" His voice slithered off of the frozen air. His mocking tone angered Lord Ren, as the chemical emotion bubbled up to the brim, his mind reeled a valuable memory of his forming of The Knights of Ren. Any comment was to be taken into heavy consideration, and the publisher of this approximation shall not be punished. His anger slightly diminished.

"Progress is only limited when a plan is not discussed," Kylo replied cooly, adjusting the cape that draped over his shoulder.

"Ah. So you do have a plan?"

Besides the deep, concentrated breaths, the room became silent once more. Amongst the living beings in the chamber, the sounds of the ship could be heard; clicking of small seemingly unimportant hydraulic systems, pressured steam being released, or even the subtle clacking of workers boots outside the private hall. All of these small distractions never stole Kylo Ren's attention away from the Knights question.

"I do."

"Then I shall inform Supreme Leader Snoke, immediately."

The Knight took a heavy boot step forward.

"He already knows," Kylo informed darkly, rubbing his gloved thumb and forefinger slightly.

The Knight paused, then continued, "so what is this plan of yours?" He asked Kylo innocently. Keeping his distance from his commanding officer, yet, moving ever so slightly closer so that he is five feet from the man whom he's respected greatly, since childhood.

"We have dismembered the legs of their vain rebellion, we must now sever the head."

"But we have their leader. General Organa. They look to her for direction! Like I've said before, killing her would have more beneficial results."

Kylo didn't flinch, or move subtly at the voiced, opinionated sentence with the related words, 'kill' and, 'Organa,' as you thought they would make him do. His mother was of no more importance to him. He meditates on the thought of her as if she was already dead, not dwelling in the very hall two floors above. If he believes she is already dead, when the time comes, when Snoke delivers the final blow, a tremor will not reek havoc on his heart.

"No. She was the legs. Which turns the organization at her will. But tell me, why do you think we should kill her?"

The Knight didn't miss a beat.

"The Resistance could still have hope that she is a-"

"Ah." Kylo inserted himself between his soldier's words.

"You do understand," Kylo said, appraising the man's false knowledge of his meaning.

The Knight stayed silent, for fear of upsetting Lord Ren with his answer. 'Could I have been wrong if I had finished?' He thought.

"Hope." Kylo continued, "hope is the head of The Resistance. Hope is what gives them power. Most likely General Organa has prepared them for her death or disappearance. Yes we took away they're official leader, but hope is what keeps them alive."

"How do we extinguish a substance that is not palpable?"

Kylo almost chuckled at his words, as he began to step away, towards the door, his cape flirting with the wind of his boots.

"With fear."

|•|

"General Hux! Prepare my ship, as well as my personal fleet." I demanded, my voice hoarse.

"May I ask, what for?" His voiced entered before the host as he passed the threshold into the technician laboratories wing, his boots clicking comes to a halt as stops in front of low table I've staked my claim upon.

I never tinkered passed the years of first creating my lightsaber. Mechanics was never something Snoke promoted let alone brought up. Keeping my stance in the First Order the way it is, is a priority.

But this time, I tried my hand at repairing my crossguard hilt. I looked at it almost mournfully, Rey had damaged it severely in our last encounter. My thoughts paused and reeled back to that cold night. My hand slowly rose to the fleshy scar that dripped down my face, across the bridge of my nose and almost to my chin.

"I'm moving forward with a part of my plan. Captain Phasma reported FN-2187 was last encountered on Soccoro." Another dust ball.

My careful fingers continued to tweak with the pressure console attached to the coolant fan operating system as I spoke.

I only let Hux see me in my more malleable states. I need not care what he thought, even though I knew, I ignored his inner judgments and moved on with whatever task I assessed myself to that irritated him.

"Yes, but that was quite a time span ago. They could be half across the system by now. What use would be going to Socorro?" He questioned inquisitively, anxiously tapping his metal-toed boot on the steel floor.

"I gave you an order, General Hux, not a suggestion," I warned, trying to douse the fire of rage beneath my skin.

Hux blew out his usual scoff as he turned on his heel to leave. When his fiery red hair finally disappeared from my peripheral vision, I rose from my seat and blinked at my helmet that sat to my right. It was a replica, of course, since the last was lost to StarKillers sudden death but this helmet was new and unscarred. The men and women who built it were far more strategical this time than the last when it came to a more practical design. It's appearances looked mostly the same but on the inside, was a whole new game.

Better stats, schematics, improved targeting systems and new cooling fans. My hands reach out and heave the helmet atop my head, pressing my raven hair slick, to my skull. The helmets airlock exhales sharply, draining the remaining carbon from its system. I hear the flick of a switch when it finally finishes attaching itself to the armored collar around my neck; becoming a part of me once again.

As soon as the helmets schematics flickered into eyesight, a personal com pinged in my ears. I blinked twice at the optical sever sensor to open it; "fleet and ship have been prepared, Lord Ren." It was from my lead squadron pilot, FP-2103.

Digesting the new information and accepting what I was about to do didn't take long. My fist clenched around Vader's old saber attached to my weapons belt.

Once again blinking rapidly in the corner of my vision receptor, "FP-2103. Prepare scenario 35-3792."

"A bombing run sir? Where to?"

"Set ship coordinators to Socorro."

"Yes, Lord Ren." A small static click ended the transmission.

Letting himself stand longer for one more labored breath, Kylo strode out of the Laboratory wing. Heading straight for Socorro.

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