Chapter Text
My life started out simply. I was born here in the cattery, with my mother and father and Auntie Trouble and all my brothers and half-brothers and sisters and half-sisters. When we were old enough, people would come to visit under the veranda in the cat garden. They would fawn over the sibling kittens and bring them toys. Some of the siblings fell in love with the visitors and would fall asleep on their feet or in their laps. Eventually, most of them left to live in the visitors’ houses.
Not me.
I never needed to entertain strangers. I got free run of the garden when visitors came. Cat Food Lady announced the day I was born that I was destined to remain here. She says that I’m close as a cat can come to her breeding goal for a Maine Coon Polydactyl. She may be right, for I’m a bright, orangey-red, ticked tabby with “nice” type (she wouldn’t ever claim that a cat she bred herself had excellent type, or even good type, for that matter) and I have eight toes more than an average cat. Cat Food Lady says being a polydactyl is the closest a cat can come to Force sensitivity that sometimes occurs in humans.
I'll never know if she’s right about that, but my place in the cattery was guaranteed. I was never for sale.
My adventure began early on a sunny afternoon in October. A red-haired man in a well-ironed uniform appeared at our door and spoke in clipped, decisive tones with Cat Food Lady. He said he’d seen pictures of me on the holonet, and added something about matching and special. I couldn’t fail to notice that when the sun struck the man’s hair it was precisely the color of my fur! The red-haired man watched me race through the garden and his tone grew strident. Cat Food Lady replied in firm tones that credits were not the issue.
“Not only is she not for sale, but Maine Coons aren’t meant to live alone in an officer’s quarters on a spaceship. Cats in her line have been bred for tens of generations specifically for their value as companion animals.” He grumbled something back, and she replied, “Mouse droids do not qualify as worthwhile companionship for a kitten. There is no way for you to provide her enough attention with your working hours, and you don’t have room for another cat to help you keep her company.” She then gave him a lengthy lecture about the history of Maine Coons, bored the poor man to tears, and sent him on his way, saying, “I’m flattered you like her, but I’m sorry, General. The answer is no.”
A few hours later, the red-haired man returned. This time, he was accompanied by a tall man dressed in black whose long, somber face wore a scar that started above his eyebrow, ran over his cheek, and raced down his neck only to plunge under the high collar of his thick tunic. My breath caught a bit. He must have been in a sorcerer-level cat fight to have achieved such a mark of manhood! He radiated some sort of dark life force that made my fur want to stand on end. I wasn't certain if I should purr or stop breathing altogether.
As if the scar and the weird aura weren't exciting enough, the dark man was wearing a cape—a genuine, hypnotically swishing, floor-length, black cape. I may never have been much for visitors, but that cape captured my attention like a bird on the wing. My instinctual hindbrain was enthralled. I wanted to climb that cape like a tree.
The dark man’s feet were large and his baritone voice was smooth. He stomped heavily towards the Cat Food Lady, hovering over her like a giant dragon. It had never occurred to me before how small she is. He waved his right hand slowly before her face as he spoke. She then repeated nearly verbatim the words he had said: “I will let General Hux have the kitten. Hux promises that he will treat her well. If for any reason he can no longer care for her, she will be returned.” The red-haired man wasted no time. Within seconds, I was popped into a cat carrier and whisked away into a fancy Upsilon shuttle that bore amazing resemblance to a bat.
(Note to future self: life goals include capturing a real bat as prey. Not only would it serve as a worthy death for the fellow mammal, but it would prove my skill as a huntress, demonstrating my worthiness for Biological Imperative.)
It’s a crying shame that I only ever got to ride in that shuttle once, and I wish now that I had paid it more attention. What I do remember about the shuttle ride was my frustration that I was stuck in the carrier with no opportunity to climb the dark man’s cape. I watched in fascination as the cape sashayed over the floor every time he moved. Surely, that cape was more alluring than curtains.
It didn’t take long before sleep took me and I awakened just as the shuttle was docking. We had arrived inside the hangar of my new home, the Steadfast. The hangar was busy, full of people in shiny white armor who were loading and unloading all sorts of ships. As the two men disembarked from the shuttle, I peeked through the front of the cat carrier and saw for the first time the white-spotted blackness of space through the gaping hangar entrance. I started to tremble as a couple of TIE fighters whooshed loudly out into the nothingness. What sort of a home would this be?
The red-haired man swung around, tilting me in the cat carrier. He stood stiffly before the man in black, saying, “I suppose I owe you a thank-you, Ren.”
I heard the man in the cape sigh heavily before he returned, “That’s Supreme Leader to you, Hux.” A corner of his mouth twitched and his left eyebrow lowered as if he was trying not to smile. “You’re welcome, though. I hope you enjoy your new pu … kitty.”
“That’s Millicent, to you, Ren,” hissed he red-haired man. “Don’t forget, you promised that obstreperous breeder lady to help cat-sit so that Millicent gets enough attention. I shall set up a schedule, so you don't forget.”
With that, the red-haired man stalked off into the hallways, leading Maker knows where as I watched in awe through the grid of the carrier. We passed individual men and women in dark uniforms but also groups of people wearing the shiny white armor who were marching in rows. Every single person stopped and saluted the red-haired man upon sighting him. This caused him to stop, set me on the floor, and salute them back. Cats know the language of movement. Life in the cattery ensured me of this: the man wearing the cape might be higher in dominance to the red-haired man, but the red-haired man ranked higher than every other living creature on this ship. Not a single individual dared to ask him about his strangely packaged, miauwing burden, either. Importance, dominance and hierarchy, those are things we understand.
From space, a Star Destroyer resembles a triangular toy. Once inside, the ship is the size of a large city. Our walk, with its continuous halting, seemed to last an eternity. At long last, the red-haired man slowed before a door and he swung the carrier box from his right to his left hand, tilting my life (rude!) before he placing the freed right hand on a circle near the door. The door whooshed open. Light slowly appeared around us as we passed from the entrance hall into the large, square room. The walls were dark grey, the dark grey stone floor was shiny and all the furniture black. Here and there about the room were orangey-red accents: a pillow, a picture frame, a folded blanket over the arm of an uncomfortable looking, black sofa.
The red-haired man placed the cat carrier on top of the only table, which was fixed to the wall. The man leaned over the table towards the box and opened the door to the carrier. “Prrrt?” I inquired.
“You can come out now, dear,” he said. I sniffed the air, swiveled my ears like radar a time or two, and decided to test the exit. I placed my left front paw on the cold durasteel tabletop and peeked out into the room. The man’s head was intimately close, and I watched as his eyes fixated on my toes. My boldness led to near social ruin: I accidentally looked up straight into the bluest eyes that have ever graced the galaxy. My whiskers shivered as every cat etiquette lecture ever given by my mother and Auntie Trouble crashed down upon my tiny brain. I lowered my eyelids slowly, twice, to show I meant no harm. I heard him draw breath. “You’re so pretty,” he sighed. Forgiveness acquired, I surged forward, coming to stand fully out of the travel box. To make up for my gaffe, I leveled my back and lifted my tail until it stood proudly vertical to the floor. Though still in kitten fur, I was already practicing for the time that my tail would plume and increase my visual size by a third. Besides, it's surely better to announce confidence when one hasn’t any, right?
Drooping my eyelids, I bunted my head as hard as I could against the man’s jaw, dragging over it slowly, making certain to tickle his cheekbone with my right eartip. The red-haired man exhaled slowly and a small smile ghosted on his lips.
“The crew and the troopers call me Hux,” the red-haired man said, inhaling again slowly as the smile stretched from his lips to the corners of his kyber-blue eyes. “But you can call me Armie.”