A/N

Recent info on Kylo Ren has listed him as being the "anti-Luke Skywalker," given his role and backstory. To which I say, "um, that's nice, but didn't we have that character with Starkiller?" Oh wait, silly me, none of that's canon anymore.

Oh well. Drabbled this up at least.

The Dark Between the Stars

Like the Empire, the First Order seemed to have a penchant for naming things about stars and their destruction.

Star Destroyers. Starkiller Base. The Death Star. And while the First Order hadn't produced such a weapon of that magnitude yet, Kylo Ren wouldn't put it past them. They lacked the resources and manpower of Palpatine's so-called "New Order." But the will that Palpatine had ruled the galaxy with was within the First Order as well, from General Hux to the lowliest Stormtrooper. Given the time, Kylo Ren had no doubt that the First Order could construct a third Death Star if they wanted to.

And then planets will be destroyed. Not stars. I suppose 'Death Planet' didn't have the same ring to it.

Or "Death Moon," for that matter. And residing in his personal quarters at Starkiller Base, listening to the recorded minutes of a meeting held less than a week before the space station's destruction, he was reminded of another fact.

"Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force."

Such were the words of Lord Vader. One of the most powerful Sith who had ever lived.

"Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways Lord Vader," came another voice. One that the minutes listed as belonging to an Admiral Conan Motti. "Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes. Or give your clairvoyance enough to help you find the rebels' hidden for-"

The second voice had cut off at that point. But Kylo knew what Vader was doing, based on the words that would follow, and what records had made their way off Death Star I before its destruction at the hands of Luke Skywalker. The Luke Skywalker who had slain Vader in battle, as the Sith fought to defend the emperor. Ever loyal to the last, Vader had died a hero, in the midst of the carnage the old rebellion had wrought in their quest to bring anarchy to the galaxy.

And what's changed?

Kylo shut off the recording. What had changed? He hadn't even been alive during Palpatine's reign, but he knew his history well enough to see the patterns in it. A new rebellion, the Resistance, spread chaos. The First Order strove to maintain the ideals that Palpatine had championed, and bring stability to the galaxy. And he, Kylo Ren, of the Knights of Ren, had been sent to the First Order to make that happen.

"Still listening are you?"

He turned around in his seat, to see the face of Phasma. A captain of the First Order.

"How would you know what I study?"

"I make it my business to know as much as I can about those who…" She smiled. "Well, what you are, and what you are not, remains to be seen."

Ren smiled behind his mask. "The Jedi once said that one should not trust in their sight. That the eyes will deceive you."

"And what do you care about what those traitors thought?"

"A lot, actually. For all their crimes, there is plenty in the Jedi to admire. Even the new order that intelligence suggests is being formed." He saw Phasma's face shift slightly. "Yes, Captain. Like you, I try to keep in the know."

Phasma didn't speak. And he didn't care. The First Order was filled with men like her, and even a few women as well. People he respected. But not people he had to like, or placate. The First Order saw the Knights of Ren as a means to an end. And that was fine, because they viewed them the same way in turn.

Phasma walked in the room, looking at the featureless walls, and the few books he had on the shelf – actual books from times gone before flimsiplasts had taken over everything. Looked at them as if she'd never seen such relics before.

Maybe she hasn't.

"Jedi," she murmured. "Skywalker." Her smirk returned. "It seems to me that you have an interest in traitors."

"I would like to think that Intelligence has the same level of interest."

Phasma went to speak, but Kylo didn't let her. "And Skywalker cannot be called a traitor. Not in the strictest sense of the word."

"Maybe you like him," Phasma asked. "Maybe you seek him out."

"I would, actually," Kylo said.

The smirk disappeared.

"But not for the reasons you think. I would seek him out, because from what data exists on Skywalker…well, it's interesting, is it not? An obscure farmboy from an Outer Rim dust bowl destroys the Death Star, days after surviving a laser fight on that same space station. That boy grows up to be the most powerful Jedi the galaxy has ever known, defeating two Sith just as powerful, if not more so, than himself." He smiled behind his mask. "I would most certainly like to test my mettle against him."

"After your predecessors failed?"

"Skywalker is old," Kylo responded. "Nearly fifty, by my estimates. Not that age is any guarantee of anything when the Force is concerned, but, well, I prefer to take what advantages I can get."

"How pragmatic of you."

Silence dwelled between the two. Phasma met his gaze. And Kylo met hers. He didn't like the intrusion. He didn't appreciate her suspicions, or her claims that he was part of a code that should best be forgotten. The Jedi had tried to destroy the Republic. Another Jedi had dealt a deathblow to the Empire. Sith, or otherwise, it seemed to her that anyone connected with the Force was best met with suspicion.

"Traitors," she murmured. She walked over to another wall, and stared at its featureless service. "Did you know that this base bears the namesake of another traitor?"

Kylo remained silent. He didn't know.

"Starkiller," she said, glancing back at him. "Codename for Agent Galen Marek. The personal apprentice of Lord Vader. Even raised by him, according to rumour."

"…I'm sure Lord Vader trained many acolytes."

"That's true, actually," Phasma said. Her smirk had returned. "But be that as it may, Marek, for whatever reason, turned traitor. He not only freed the founders of the Rebel Alliance, some say that he was the brainchild behind the entire movement."

"And not Kanan Jarrus?"

"There were many rebellions in Palpatine's day," Phasma said. "But yes. Another Jedi. Like Starkiller." Her gaze narrowed. "Not unlike yourself."

Kylo rose to his feet. He could feel the Dark Side warp around him. Entering him. Tempting him with its power.

"I am no Jedi."

But he kept it at bay. He was not a Jedi. But he would not so recklessly wield the Force with abandon either.

"Indeed? Well, when I see that laser-sword at your waist, I can't help but wonder."

Kylo didn't speak. The Dark Side remained.

"Starkiller," Phasma said, "was like you. And Like Skywalker. A boy born on a backwater world, thrust into the galactic stage, bringing disaster with every step he took." She took a step towards him, and Kylo, letting fear touch him, almost took a step back. "You are not special, Kylo Ren. I know your story. I know Skywalker's. I know Marek's, I know so many stories that end in disaster for those who seek order." She took another step towards him, and this time, Kylo did take a step backwards. "So take note – one move. One wrong move, and you'll realize that a lightsaber isn't always superior to a blaster."

And with that she left. Walked out. As if nothing had happened. And all Kylo could do was stand there, and fight the urge to reach for the weapon in question. Fight it, and remember more words from the briefing.

This bickering is pointless.

Wilhuff Tarkin. A brilliant man in some areas, an imbecile in others. Skywalker may have destroyed Palpatine, but Tarkin…Tarkin had ordered the death of an entire planet. Tarkin had been a butcher. Men like Tarkin were the reason why some did not wish to see the return of the Empire. And yet, the man had been brilliant.

Light and dark. Balance. The ideal of Grey Jedi.

Silently, Kylo returned to the desk. Silently, he picked up a book.

Knowledge was power.

And with thoughts of what had come before, and what would follow, he found himself desiring both of those facets very much.