Bonded

Chapter 45: Failure

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Kylo reflects on his life and choices.

The light flickers. It's faint, only a slight dimming, but Kylo notices.

He's lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. The light is long and skinny, running half the length of the room. It's always on, the flickers coming in intervals, which means it's powered by a generator, an indication that he's underground.

Though there's no way to know for sure.

He sits up, moving his legs over the bed. He glances at his hand, knuckles gnarled and scabbed from punching the console. The wound's not healing well, bones twisting in directions they shouldn't.

He looks around.

The room is a hole, a concrete trap without windows or doors. It's clear the ceiling can open, but it hasn't since he's been here. The space is empty except for a bed, a latrine, and meticulously arranged water canteens and portions in the corner. Kylo rises, walking to kneel before them. He quickly tallies what's left, enough to sustain him for a month, more if he's conservative.

Of all the things in the room, these supplies are the most useful, and not just because they keep him alive. They're his only way of measuring time, each empty pack marking the passage of a day. They're also an indicator of how long he has before Hux sends an interrogation team to attempt wrenching the codes for Starkiller. That's when the real fun will begin...

Kylo's lips twist grimly.

He's almost looking forward to it. At least it will get him out of this room, give him something to do besides pace and stare at the light.

He looks over the supplies a final time, then moves to retake a seat on the bed. He settles slowly, eyes on the wall, a grayish-white slab.

Then, he stares. And stares, and stares, and stares.

What a strange thing, to have so much time. He's counted eight days so far, though he knows it's been longer, the first few blurred by the effects of the shadow moss. Eight long days alone in this room— no distractions, no interruptions, no responsibilities, nothing to do but think.

He sighs, scooting back on the bed.

So, what does he do when he has nothing but thousands of empty minutes to fill?

Mostly he thinks what's happening outside these walls. He thinks about Hux, what he's doing to the First Order, the galaxy, everything Kylo's worked so hard to build. He can't help but remember something his mother once told him, that growing takes patience and time but destruction? That takes nothing at all.

Oh, the things Hux has destroyed by now...

He's certainly demoted everyone Kylo promoted from the lower ranks, dismantled his cadets and Petrov's too, shut down the diplomatic division, halted all negotiations and building projects. He's withdrawn troops from the Core Worlds, stopped raids on slave markets, probably nullified the law altogether. At first Kylo was terrified of what he might do to Sylas until he realized Hux would get much more pleasure from "putting him in his place" than killing him. Sylas is probably on garbage detail in the darkest corner of the Supremacy.

And Hux has, without a doubt, started his war with the Resistance, though Kylo wagers it's not going as well as he expected. For one, Rey certainly warned them of the impending attack, and by the time Hux slogged through the mess Kylo left him, most of their bases were likely evacuated.

But most crucially, by now Hux has discovered exactly how good his mother is at fighting this kind of war. She's spent decades maneuvering around giants, the vast resources of the Empire, government officials with deep pockets and boundless influence. Kylo's certain she was ready for a full-on assault, that she's been ready with preparations and protocols, back-ups for her back-ups. She's initiated strategic retreat, scattered the Resistance to far corners while Hux runs the First Order ragged searching for them.