"I can help," Kylo said. Snap Wexley shifted on his feet. They stood in the busy hangar, surrounded by pilots, techs, people doing something. “I can fix things.”
Wexley made a show of flipping through his datapad, nodding and stroking his chin as if thinking about where to put him. “Ah—you know, everything here is covered.”
Nearby, a tech yelped in surprise as the X-wing engine she worked on sparked in her face. She dropped her tools and a round drill rolled slowly across the concrete deck, coming to rest at Wexley’s foot.
Wexley coughed. “Yeah, we’re good here.”
Kylo bit his lip, nodded, and walked away with his head down.
After Snoke’s real intentions became clear, Kylo had fled, taking with him computers full of information from the highest levels of the First Order. Reckless, not really caring what happened to him anymore, he turned himself over to the Resistance, maybe half-hoping they would take the information and shoot him dead. But they took him. They didn’t even lock him up. After all, they had a history now of taking in wayward First Order defectors.
Kylo caught sight of Finn as he wandered aimlessly around the hangar. Finn always had a crowd around him. Poe Dameron, Rey, and the droid that caused him so much trouble. BB-8.
Finn saw him staring, and the group’s spirited conversation faded. They all looked at him. Kylo balled his fists and left the hangar.
He wanted to help. He wanted Snoke dead. How could he help when no one would let him do anything?
Kylo stopped by the control room, thinking he might be useful interpreting some of the data he had brought. His mother was there. She hovered over glowing tactical displays, the blue-green light deepening the shadows of her wrinkles. He still wasn’t used to how old she looked.
“Ben,” she said in greeting when he approached.
“Mom.” He tried to keep from fidgeting. “Can I help with anything?”
“I think you’ve done enough,” she said wryly.
Kylo nodded and shrank into himself, shoulders hunched as he stayed out of the way. He thought about going back to the hangar, maybe offering his help to someone besides the deck officer, but he knew he scared everyone. He didn’t want to make things worse.
Later, in the cafeteria, he had evening meal by himself. Pilots, technicians, and officers mingled and laughed together, nearby yet far away, and he let the conversation wash over him. In the First Order, he always ate by himself in his quarters—Snoke wanted him to be perceived as some inhuman monster, not something that needed food, so being seen in public eating wasn’t allowed. As he listened to everyone around him, he tried to tell himself that this was better.
Something bumped into his leg, startling him. He looked under the table. The orange and white BB unit whirred at him.
He sort of knew what the droid said, he grew up around R2-D2 and his tutor droids, but he couldn’t quite catch it all. “What?” he asked.
BB-8 bumped into his leg again, impatient because he didn’t understand the droid perfectly like Rey and Poe did, and told him to hurry up with his food.
“Why?”
The droid rocked in place and babbled something—BB-8 wanted to go to the hangar?
Kylo flushed. “I’m sure someone else will go with you. They don’t want me around there.”
BB-8 buzzed, calling Kylo “slow.”
Kylo frowned but finished his meal. He followed the droid, who kept beeping and whirring. Even though Kylo didn’t understand it all, he felt a little less lonely.
[FILL]: Short Circuits, 1/2
"I can help," Kylo said. Snap Wexley shifted on his feet. They stood in the busy hangar, surrounded by pilots, techs, people doing something. “I can fix things.”
Wexley made a show of flipping through his datapad, nodding and stroking his chin as if thinking about where to put him. “Ah—you know, everything here is covered.”
Nearby, a tech yelped in surprise as the X-wing engine she worked on sparked in her face. She dropped her tools and a round drill rolled slowly across the concrete deck, coming to rest at Wexley’s foot.
Wexley coughed. “Yeah, we’re good here.”
Kylo bit his lip, nodded, and walked away with his head down.
After Snoke’s real intentions became clear, Kylo had fled, taking with him computers full of information from the highest levels of the First Order. Reckless, not really caring what happened to him anymore, he turned himself over to the Resistance, maybe half-hoping they would take the information and shoot him dead. But they took him. They didn’t even lock him up. After all, they had a history now of taking in wayward First Order defectors.
Kylo caught sight of Finn as he wandered aimlessly around the hangar. Finn always had a crowd around him. Poe Dameron, Rey, and the droid that caused him so much trouble. BB-8.
Finn saw him staring, and the group’s spirited conversation faded. They all looked at him. Kylo balled his fists and left the hangar.
He wanted to help. He wanted Snoke dead. How could he help when no one would let him do anything?
Kylo stopped by the control room, thinking he might be useful interpreting some of the data he had brought. His mother was there. She hovered over glowing tactical displays, the blue-green light deepening the shadows of her wrinkles. He still wasn’t used to how old she looked.
“Ben,” she said in greeting when he approached.
“Mom.” He tried to keep from fidgeting. “Can I help with anything?”
“I think you’ve done enough,” she said wryly.
Kylo nodded and shrank into himself, shoulders hunched as he stayed out of the way. He thought about going back to the hangar, maybe offering his help to someone besides the deck officer, but he knew he scared everyone. He didn’t want to make things worse.
Later, in the cafeteria, he had evening meal by himself. Pilots, technicians, and officers mingled and laughed together, nearby yet far away, and he let the conversation wash over him. In the First Order, he always ate by himself in his quarters—Snoke wanted him to be perceived as some inhuman monster, not something that needed food, so being seen in public eating wasn’t allowed. As he listened to everyone around him, he tried to tell himself that this was better.
Something bumped into his leg, startling him. He looked under the table. The orange and white BB unit whirred at him.
He sort of knew what the droid said, he grew up around R2-D2 and his tutor droids, but he couldn’t quite catch it all. “What?” he asked.
BB-8 bumped into his leg again, impatient because he didn’t understand the droid perfectly like Rey and Poe did, and told him to hurry up with his food.
“Why?”
The droid rocked in place and babbled something—BB-8 wanted to go to the hangar?
Kylo flushed. “I’m sure someone else will go with you. They don’t want me around there.”
BB-8 buzzed, calling Kylo “slow.”
Kylo frowned but finished his meal. He followed the droid, who kept beeping and whirring. Even though Kylo didn’t understand it all, he felt a little less lonely.