The Force Awakens (Star Wars)

by Alan Dean Foster

  The squad’s presence was greatly diminished by the daunting interior of the complex. Around them, instrumentation and components hummed smoothly, ensuring that the expanding mass of dark energy that was accumulating at the center of the planet continued to be held safely in stasis until it was time for it to be released.

  Halting, Ren slowly scanned his surroundings. Even though they knew what he was doing, the troopers still marveled at the display. After a long moment of deliberation, he motioned them toward the upper levels.

  “They’re here. Find them. Up there.”

  The squad immediately went into action, moving off rapidly in the direction he had indicated. Once they were out of sight, Ren turned slowly—and headed downward.

  Weapons at the ready, the squad ascended, following prescribed search procedure and covering for one another as they advanced. Blind corners received special attention and added caution.

  From the shadows Chewbacca watched them pass, admiring the precision with which they progressed even as he kept still. Once they were out of sight, he emerged to plant another charge.

  Below, Han had finished setting a charge and was preparing to climb a bit higher to place one more when a sound made him hesitate. The working structure was full of unidentifiable sounds, but this was different. Taking no chances, he slipped behind a wide vertical support. Either the sound would not be repeated, or…

  A glance around the edge of his cover revealed its source, and his countenance underwent a grave shift.

  The figure that had paused to look over a railing and down into the farther depths of the structure was known to him.

  Here, Ren told himself with increasing certainty. He is here. Raising his gaze, he focused on one support column out of many. Slowly he advanced toward it, prepared for whatever might ensue.

  Nothing did. There was no one behind the column.

  From concealment in a narrow chamber set into a wall, Han watched the caped figure stride past. His lips moved as he watched and he mouthed a single word. Or perhaps it was a name. As he looked on, Ren moved out onto a walkway that spanned a vast open space. Pausing there, he looked around, hesitant, uncertain, before continuing onward. The sound of his boots—the sound that had alerted Han moments earlier—receded into the distance.

  Rising from his hiding place, Han looked back the way he had come. If he left now and managed to control his thoughts and emotions while retracing his steps, there was a good chance he could make it out of the building. If he was really lucky, he would be able to slip outside without drawing the attention of any searching stormtroopers—or anyone else. Outside, if all had gone according to the hastily drawn-up plan, Finn and Rey would be waiting with transportation. A chance, then, to make it back to the Falcon before everything on this planet went to hell. A chance later for another reunion, on another world. A face swam before his, its features aged but still soft, the voice that emerged from between so-familiar lips biting yet always affectionate. Forming words that lingered in his thoughts. Forming, at last hearing, a request.

  A request that wouldn’t go away, he knew. It would never go away. He made up his mind. Instead of retreating, he advanced. Instead of running for safety, he took up the challenge. There was no real choice, he told himself as he advanced to the edge of the walkway. And called out.

  “Ben!”

  It echoed across the gap, reverberated through the vast open space below.

  On the far side, a tall figure turned and retraced his last few steps.

  “Han Solo.” Kylo Ren stared across at the older man. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”

  “Take off that mask.” Han’s tone was a mix of command and empathy. “You don’t need it. Not here. Not with me.”

  “What do you think you’ll see if I do take it off?”

  Han moved forward slightly. “The face of my son.”

  “Your son is gone. He was weak and foolish, like his father.” Ren’s reply was replete with pity. And anger. “So I destroyed him. But such a small, insignificant request is easily granted.”

  Reaching up, he slowly removed the mask. For the first time Han saw the face of his son as a grown man—and it jolted him.

  Both men were so intent on each other, so preoccupied with their encounter, that neither noticed the newly arrived presence on a railing overhead. Having slipped inside to search for Han and Chewbacca, Finn and Rey found themselves peering down from up high at the pair confronting each other below.

  “That’s what Snoke wants you to believe,” Han was saying. He wasn’t pleading—just stating a fact. “But it’s not true. My son is still alive. I’m looking at him right now.”

  The exchange drew another onlooker, as on a level above, Chewie moved to watch and listen.

  Ren’s eyes blazed. “No! The Supreme Leader is wise. He knows me for who I am, and who I can become. He knows you for what you really are, Han Solo. Not a general, not a hero. Just a small-time thief and smuggler.”

  A trace of a grin flashed across Han’s face. “Well, he’s got that part right.”

  Similarly drawn by the sounds of conversation and disagreement, a third group of spectators had arrived. Held rapt by the confrontation, the squad of stormtroopers looked on as intently as did Finn, Rey, and Chewbacca. Fearful of taking an initiative that might be frowned upon, they awaited a command from Ren.

  Stepping out onto the walkway, Han moved toward his son. There was no hesitation in his stride or in his voice. “Snoke’s using you for your power, manipulating your abilities. When he’s gotten everything he wants out of you, he’ll crush you. Toss you aside. You know it’s true. If you have half the ability, half the perception that I know you do, you know that I’m telling you the truth. Because unlike him, I have nothing to gain from it.”

  Ren hesitated.

  “It’s too late,” he said.

  “No, it’s not.” Halfway across the walkway now, Han continued to move forward, smiling. “Never too late for the truth. Leave here with me. Come home.” Without the slightest trace of malice or deception, he cast a dagger. “Your mother misses you.”

  A strange sensation touched the younger man’s cheeks. Something long forgotten. Dampness. Tears.

  “I’m being torn apart. I want—I want to be free of this pain.”

  Han took another step, then stopped, waiting. A decision had to be made, and for once it was not his to make.

  “I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” Ren moved out onto the walkway toward Han. “Will you help me?”

  “Yes,” Han told him. “Anything.”

  Halting an arm’s length from his father, Ren unclipped his lightsaber, looked down at it for a moment, and then extended it toward Han. For an instant that seemed to extend into forever, nothing happened. Smiling, Han reached for the weapon. Then, as the light from outside was fully blocked by the flow of descending, accumulating dark energy, Ren ignited the lightsaber—and the fiery red beam lanced outward to pierce Han’s chest from front to back.

  “Thank you,” Ren murmured, and truly, the darkness above was mimicked by the darkness in his voice.

  From their perch high above, Finn and Rey gasped simultaneously.

  “Solo. Solo.” Finn put an arm around the girl beside him. “Rey.”

  “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no…”

  Accepting without quite believing, Han stared back into the face of the creature that had been his son. There was nothing to see there. Only darkness in the shape of a face: alien, unthinking, unfeeling. His knees buckled, the beam tilting down with him as he crumpled. Ren extinguished it. For another moment Han held on to the edge of the walkway. A rush of memories flashed through his mind: worlds and time, friends and enemies, triumphs and failures. Words he wished he had spoken and others he regretted. All gone now, lost in an instant, like the one he
would never again be able to hold in his arms. Then he fell, to vanish into the depths.

  On another world far, far away, a woman felt a shudder in the Force that lanced through her like a knife. She slumped into a seat, her head lowering, and started to cry.

  Stunned by his own action, Kylo Ren fell to his knees. Following through on the act ought to have made him stronger, a part of him believed. Instead, he found himself weakened. He did not hear the roar of the enraged Wookiee above, but he did feel the sting of the shot from the bowcaster as it slammed into his side, knocking him back on the walkway.

  Hostile fire being something the group of stormtroopers could react to without having to wait for an order, they immediately blasted back at Chewie. Returning fire, the Wookiee retreated down a corridor, hitting the switch on the remote detonator as he ran.

  First one charge ignited, then two, then four, and finally the rest. Enormous, concerted explosions rocked the interior of the hexagon. Walkways collapsed, plunging to the bottom of the interior cylinder. There was shuddering as the walls trembled, held—and then began to fail as their main support and then subsidiary columns snapped. Amid the rising bedlam and confusion, Kylo Ren struggled to stand. As he did so, his gaze turned upward.

  To meet the stares of Finn and Rey, peering down at him.

  The shock of recognition helped him to regain his footing. Rising to his full height, he started back along the still-standing walkway, moving with determination. Heading upward.

  Taking their cue from their leader, those troopers who were not pursuing Chewbacca began to fire at the two figures on the lower level. A crazed, heartbroken Rey returned their fire. She would have stayed there, blasting away wildly, had not Finn half dragged, half carried her away.

  —

  High above and swathed in the shadow of the curtain of descending dark energy, Poe Dameron saw something. An explosion on the roof of the containment center. By its intensity and configuration he could tell that it was not the result of a hit from one of his X-wings, but instead a blast from within. Swinging around, he found that for the first time he could see the interior of the seemingly impregnable structure.

  It was an opening. A small one. One opportunity, maybe. Given the way the fight was going, probably a last one.

  “All units, this is Black Leader. Target structural integrity has been breached! I repeat: Target integrity has been breached! There’s an opening. Now’s our chance! Hit it hard, give it everything you’ve got!”

  Led by the black fighter and ignoring both pursuing TIE fighters and arcing seekers, the remaining X-wings broke off from defensive combat and dove as one toward the hexagon. A few strikes missed, detonating harmlessly against the still-intact sides of the building. But the others, most, hit their mark. As Poe and his comrades pulled up and away, one detonation after another shook the great edifice. Gradually, almost in slow motion, it began to collapse, the walls falling in upon themselves. More significantly, gouts of flame began to erupt from below, rising from unseen chambers far underground.

  Letting out a yell of triumph, Poe accelerated skyward, heading for the outer atmosphere. Secure in his position behind the cockpit, BB-8 emitted a steady stream of excited beeps.

  “All teams, nice job!” Poe said to his fellow pilots. “General, the target’s been destroyed!”

  Leia’s warm voice filled his ears, but the message she delivered was an unexpected one. “Good—now retreat immediately! The planet could be unstable. Get out of there now.”

  Even with the relay in place, it took a moment for the message to be received. Poe didn’t hesitate to reply. “If we retreat, we leave our friends behind!”

  Having anticipated Poe’s response, Leia was ready with her own. “Poe, outside of those of us here, your group is all that remains of the Resistance that’s capable of putting up a fight. If you stay to find them, we lose you all.”

  “General, with all due respect,” he said evenly, “we’re not leaving our friends behind. Teams, who’s with me?”

  He expected a delayed response. He was wrong: It came immediately, from Snap. “We’re all with you, Poe. You know that.” A concurring yelp came from the ship piloted by the Sullustan, Nien Nunb, followed by the others.

  “Then let’s go do some good and find them!’

  XVIII

  WITHIN THE CORRIDORS and confines, the administrative rooms and technical control sectors of Starkiller Base, there was panic. Technicians reacted with despair as, despite their frantic efforts, one monitor after another went to red as critical systems began to fail.

  “Lower-order cells are overheating,” declared one tech in the command center. “Emergency crew can’t get to the site. Full system load shutdown.” When he turned back to Hux there was a look in his eyes that the general had never seen in any of his techs. “The oscillator is failing. We’re losing containment.”

  “Oscillator has been hit.” Another officer struggled to keep the fear out of his voice. “Assessing damage. Attempting to sustain power.”

  Hux watched it all in silence as he backed away slowly. There was no point in doing anything else, he knew. The tech teams would stabilize the oscillation of the containment field. Otherwise, there would be nothing to back up to.

  —

  “Come on.” Seeking a path through the snow, shadows, and increasingly dark forest, Finn finally slowed. Where were they running to? In any event, both he and Rey were out of breath. When he looked over at her, he knew the same realization had struck her. It was good, anyway, to stop. Even in the artificial darkness, in the shadow of the curtain of descending dark energy, the forest felt…clean.

  At least, it did until a singular figure came upon them and uttered a single word.

  “Stop.”

  The three stood staring at one another: Finn and Rey, Kylo Ren some ten meters away. As Ren reached for his lightsaber, Rey pulled her blaster, stepped forward, and took aim.

  Before she could fire, Ren raised a hand, halting her. She strained against him, her anger giving her strength. But she couldn’t fire. He was struggling also, against her newly discovered ability, as well as the wound inflicted by Chewbacca’s bowcaster. Gritting his teeth, he flung his arm sideways in a single, powerful gesture—and the blaster went flying out of her hand. Inhaling deeply, he gestured again, and this time it was Rey who went flying, to smash into a tree nearby and slide to the ground, dazed and hurt.

  “Rey—Rey!”

  Finn started toward her, but the sound of Ren’s lightsaber igniting made him turn. In the darkness, the hum and glow of the gleaming red weapon was mesmerizing. With nothing else to fall back on and unable to reach Rey’s blaster, Finn resorted to the only defense at his command: He pulled and activated the Skywalker lightsaber.

  For some reason, the sight of it was enough to give Ren pause. He stared at it for a moment before reacting.

  “That weapon—is mine.”

  Finn all but snarled his reply. “Come and get it.”

  Drawing himself up, a towering figure in the snow, Ren did not even bother to gesture. “I’m going to kill you for it.”

  He rushed forward.

  Despite his fear, Finn raised the beam to defend himself. Ren lunged, struck—and Finn parried. Shards of light flew, illuminating the snow and the surrounding vegetation. Drawing back slightly, Ren considered his unexpectedly determined opponent, then resumed his assault with a vengeance.

  Finn blocked him again and again, once letting the other man’s beam slide against his own and harmlessly off to one side. He counterattacked, to no avail. The longer the contest continued, the stronger Ren seemed to become. It was as if he was enjoying the challenge. Feeding upon it.

  At least, it appeared so until Finn parried, swung, and unexpectedly stabbed, the tip of his lightsaber beam grazing Ren’s arm. That made it more than a challenge. Taking a step back, Ren reconsidered
his opponent. When he closed the distance between them anew, it was with a purpose that had been previously lacking. Expecting an execution, he had found a contest. Now he had been touched. It was time for play to end.

  Advancing relentlessly, he was driven by something that Finn could not even sense, far less counter. Still the ex-trooper fought back, until Ren landed a blow that cut across Finn’s chest and sent the lightsaber flying from his hand. It landed in the snow six meters distant.

  It was over.

  Switching off his own weapon, Ren extended an arm toward the device lying in the snow. It twitched and then began to vibrate as the Force called to it. Stretching out his hand farther, straining, Ren beckoned powerfully—and the lightsaber rose, to come bulleting toward his outstretched fingers.

  And past them.

  Taken aback, he whirled—to see the weapon land in the hand of a girl standing by a tree. Rey appeared equally shocked that her reach for the device had exceeded his. She gazed down at the weapon now resting in her grip.

  “It is you,” Ren murmured.

  His words unsettled her: Not for the first time, he seemed to know more about her than she did about herself. But she had no time to ponder his comment, nor was she inclined to do so anyway; she was too consumed with rage. Holding the haft of the lightsaber in both hands, she ignited the beam—and charged.

  Ren met her with his own weapon alight. Expecting weakness, he encountered only strength. Her skill with the device was raw at best, but it was backed by a fury that was as new to his experience as it was unexpected.

  When the beams of their lightsabers crossed, the resulting burst of energy lit an entire section of forest.

  —

  Within the base, pandemonium reigned as buildings began not just to crumple, but to collapse into a succession of huge sinkholes as the ground itself surrendered to the slowly failing containment field. Observing the cataclysm out a command center window, a young tech rushed for the presumed safety of the building’s interior. A senior officer confronted him, stopped him.