The task is difficult because you choose for it to be difficult. Do you ever wonder why you do that so often? Kylo Ren chewed the inside of his cheek. He could feel his sweat pooling against the tile, almost splashing against his bare back. No one could accuse him of a lack of effort.
He looked around, but he'd practically designed the room to preclude that. The quarters were spartan - thin, itchy fabric and hard metal. No personal mementos, for obvious reasons. He'd designed his entire life to eliminate pondering and encourage action. But now...
You don't conquer a mind, Ren. A mind is a powerful entity. A mind is convinced.
He'd been working on the damned probe for months now - with prisoners, with hostages, with dignitaries, even with the odd stormtrooper. He'd gotten glimpses here and there, but for the most part... only headaches.
What have I been teaching you? To apply yourself with an open mind. Not to think of yourself as a student of one path or another, but to shed your identity.
Snoke insisted that he needed to forge them self in order to read someone, that he needed to fully immerse himself in his target...
Kylo pulled himself from the floor, threw on a thin set of cotton scrubs, followed it with his ceremonial robes and mask, before heading to the ad-junction room of the Gauntlet. As usual, most people studiously ignored him - and since he rarely made an entrance on the bridge, most of the staff could go on pretending he didn't exist.
Gauntlet. What a name for a ship.
"Fedorre," Ren says with a smile. "It's a pleasure to see you alive."
"It's a pleasure to see you awake, Ren." The Admiral sneers down his long nose at him, as if Kylo hadn't personally saved his fucking life at Gyndine. He's like every Order officer he's interacted with the last couple of years. All narrow eyes, rudeness, and barely concealed nervousness. "Do you know what system you're in?"
"Mimban."
"Chandrila. You were quite a bit off."
"Are you here to demonstrate your superior knowledge, or..."
"I'm here to relay orders. They're directly from the Supreme Leader."
"About the blockade?"
Fedorre presses his lips together and nods, as if impressed. "It's been almost a year without any real results. He's seen fit to break that blockade."
That's not the sort of thing that would need his particular skills. A large-scale planetary invasion? When he was still supposed to be tracking Skywalker? There was no chance he'd be there. So... "You want me to go planetside."
"The Supreme Leader wants you to speak to the Governor of Chandrila. He assured me that you'd be able to convince him to surrender the planet."
Never was he so happy to be wearing this mask. He swallows. He'd never been able to do it properly. And now the Supreme Leader wanted him to do some special operation? With an entire planet at stake?
"I know Chandrila's military doesn't have the finest reputation, but sending me down there alone is ridiculous."
"Oh. I never said you'd be going alone."<|im_end|>
" . . Got to be a fucking clone," he said out of jest and slight tease. That was usually the last line of someone's mind working in defense, making a joke in a situation that they felt absolutely screwed in. In situations where one needed a distraction, it was like some chemical the brain released to keep one from realizing they were basically right at the edge of shitting themselves. That being said, she didn't really mind being compared to one of those failed attempts from a previous regime, the comparison made with connection of the body on top of him being smooth and swift in her action. The year before when they had heard the rumor of a woman joining their ranks, there had been faint whispers made with excitement, expecting another to slip behind one of numerous controlled, desk positions. She couldn't mentally handle it. To say the very least just the idea was boring, but the lifestyle itself made her want to be sucked out into the atmosphere, but in bringing her mind back into the reality, her fist raised as her eyes regained focus to the man beneath her trying to nearly suck his head and helmet into his body to avoid the punch. Rare should the situation turn into having someone attack you without a weapon, but the simulation proving as such when the scene around them disappeared, the sound of gears shifting and something within the walls humming reminding her that this was merely practice.
"Hm," he said, rubbing his jaw where she had hit him.
Standing now after pulling her opposite hand away from the gulping neck, the fingers on each hand wiggled softly before a faint nod was given and the thud of her boots carried her away. Helmet straight in her walk through the hall, the light chatter was no distraction, entering her chambers with a soft whoosh of the sliding door, gloved hands freeing herself from the helmet's confines. Breathing out softly, her eyes wandered aimlessly to the mirror out of a habit recently gained by change, closing the distance to her reflection and shifting her fingers through her hair. It was rare that she was without her helmet, deciding it long ago to simply keep herself from being apparent unless speaking, though the change almost gave a twinge of relief that wasn't often felt. The choppy haired woman's head turned sharply when the knock came from outside, glaring sharply at the door as she awaited the words that followed. "Admiral Fedorre has requested to speak to you, by order of Supreme Leader-"
"Leave."
Almost instantly at her request, she could have sworn she heard the lips of the stormtrooper outside her door form into a line before he left, eyes tracing the lines in the floor before meeting back to her helmet. While she wasn't particularly in favor of having the Admiral wait, and with this she clicked the Commander pauldron onto her arm, the white suited stormtrooper slid the helmet back over her head before leaving her quarters again. While there was no real joy in going to see the Admiral, there was almost equally no joy in figuring out why he had that snarky look on his face, breathing out within her concealment just in time to hear, ". . . I never said you'd be going alone. " Clearly the Admiral was one for dramatics. Nodding her head softly in greeting to the shorter Fedorre, in proper lighting, the stormtrooper could cast one hell of a shadow over him, though that would be something to laugh at when she was alone later.
"He is sending you with Commander Phasma, to persuade him to release the planet to us. It is inhabited, so you will be among civilians."
Though no protest was heard, the slight tilt of her head was evident when the woman heard the short version of what was happening, realizing she probably should have just pretended she hadn't heard anything at all. Pretended she hadn't heard the request, pretended she was busy doing something else. But this was for the First Order, and she had a duty. Unfortunately that meant dealing with others. Others who weren't conditioned, others who weren't trained to kill since childhood. Just simply civilians. Just the thought made her stomach churn.<|im_end|>