Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka kept a firm grasp on the upper arm of his charge, hustling him gently but firmly into one of the First Order's smaller shuttles, which had parked on the roof of the complex. He gave the command to the pilot to launch skyward, and breathed a sigh of relief as the blighted cityscape of this particular planet fell away below the viewport.

This hellhole of a world had been even more corrupt and revolting than most of the New Republic. Mitaka rejoiced that, now the First Order had arrived, the planet's abusive gang leaders and criminal warlords would be summarily punished, and its citizens freed to lead lives that would contribute to, rather than detract from, the overall order of the galaxy.

He glanced at his charge — a tall, painfully thin young man with ratty, greasy hair and rags for clothes. He was twisting his hands in the filthy sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt and gnawing on his lip, staring out the window as his homeworld disappeared from view.

"Wh — what is to become of me?" the man breathed out, and Mitaka's heart lurched in his chest.

The problem was that Mitaka didn't quite know.

Well — that wasn't true. The General had been very clear in his orders.

'It seems my father's cloning experiments bore more fruit than I had heretofore realized,' General Hux had said, staring at his datapad. His flinty greenish-gray eyes had risen to Mitaka's, and he had added, 'You will proceed to this 'Peach Trees' complex, liberate my clone, and deliver him to me here. Dismissed.'

Liberate his clone, Mitaka thought. Such a simple command, but with so many repercussions. Repercussions that General Hux must definitely have foreseen.

"You're all right now," Mitaka reassured the man — General Hux's clone. The clone of Mitaka's impossible, unthinkable crush. "You'll be just fine."

The clone, who had been known in the Peach Trees gang complex as 'Techie,' stared back, seemingly on the verge of tears, before wrenching his eyes away and blinking rapidly. He looked so defeated, so pathetic, that Mitaka couldn't help laying one friendly hand on his knee.

He was about to say 'There, there' — not that hearing 'there, there' was particularly comforting, but he didn't know what else to say. But then he saw how Techie flinched away, then forced himself to hold still. He was barely breathing, his eyes fixed on where Mitaka's hand was touching him.

As though I'm going to hurt him, Mitaka thought.

He drew his hand back.

"It's all right. You've been saved by the First Order," Mitaka said, infusing his voice with as much assurance as possible.

"The First Order?"

Mitaka was briefly even more saddened at the thought of an entire world, ignorant of interstellar events to the point that Hux's clone had never even heard of the First Order. Had he been living under a rock?

Then again, Mitaka had seen the inside of the 'Peach Trees' complex, and had some familiarity with how its cruel overlord, 'Ma-Ma,' had run her operation. No doubt she had controlled access to outside information for all of her underlings. Techie had been one of her special tools — her technician — but Ma-Ma had not been the type to take good care of her tools.

"Yes," Mitaka explained, turning his best reassuring smile towards Techie. "We are a planet-independent fleet, working as one to bring peace and stability to the galaxy, and topple abusive overlords and tyrants. Our goal is nothing less than unity, peace, and security for all."

Techie stared back at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes. It was unclear how much of that he had taken in. No doubt the man was still in shock after the tactical team's brutal yet efficient takedown of Peach Trees' defenses.

It occurred to Mitaka that General Hux really should have sent someone else on this job, rather than him. He had no training in handling people with complex trauma. Techie was taller than him; if he went into a blind rage, it was possible he could injure Mitaka seriously.

Still, he would do his best to accomplish the mission.

He cleared his throat and licked his lips, refreshing his smile. "My name is Dopheld Mitaka — Lieutenant Mitaka. And I'm taking you to meet your brother, General Hux."

Techie stared at him with those arresting blue eyes. Their pupils did not look perfectly round. A tiny whirring sound betrayed that Techie's skull contained more than mere organic matter. At some point, the tyrannical Ma-Ma had replaced his natural eyes with tech.

Mitaka swallowed. It was revolting how so many warlords and criminals in the Outer Rim abused those under their protection. The horrors and abuses he had seen only strengthened his resolve to serve the First Order to the best of his abilities.

He looked back, trying to radiate all the calmness, serenity, and positive energy he could.

"I have — a brother?"

"Genetically, yes, you do," Mitaka said. "This may come as a slight shock to you, I fear — but you're an intelligent man, Mr., ah, Techie. So there is no use in keeping the information from you. It seems that you were the result of rogue cloning program. I am taking you to meet your — well, your genetic donor, for want of a better term for it. You can think of him as an older brother."

Techie regarded him with those bottomless eyes of his, and Mitaka tried not to notice how red and bloodshot they were. The angry pink around his eyes stood out against the unhealthy pallor of the rest of his skin. Both clashed horribly with the limp reddish-orange of his hair, so filthy that it was brown.

"And — Ma-Ma?" Techie whispered through chapped, cracked lips.

Mitaka leaned forward slightly, noting how the man's eyes dilated to take him in.

"Dead," he said with assurance. "I witnessed it myself; she is dead, quite thoroughly and finally. Don't worry — she'll never hurt you or anyone else, ever again."

Techie closed his eyes and slumped in his seat, just slightly. It might have been in sorrow — Mitaka had reason to believe that he and Ma-Ma had been intimate in many ways — but Mitaka was already picking up on his tells.

And in this case, he was almost certain that Techie was melting back into his seat not in sorrow, but in pure, unadulterated relief.

Mitaka would have put Techie through the standard processing used for new recruits to the Order, but something about the man's barely-hanging-on demeanor led him to surmise that he wouldn't even make it through the first gate of the process. He ventured to guess that Techie would end up curled into a fetal position, twitching in a corner somewhere.

So instead, he took Techie straight to General Hux, without even the benefit of a shower first.

The door hissed open, and Mitaka led Techie through into the sitting room where he loved to spend as much time as possible — whenever the General allowed it, that is.

"General," Mitaka said, snapping into a salute.

Hux waved one slender hand at him from his ice blue couch. "At ease, Lieutenant."

"Sir, here is the asset you requested be liberated from the Peach Trees complex," Mitaka said. "He was known there as the Peach Tree Clan Techie."

Hux rose from the couch and approached, examining Techie with great interest. His gaze started at the top of that greasy, uncombed head, and traveled down his gaunt, grayish cheeks and curiously mechanical eyes, to his chapped lips, filthy clothes, twitching hands, emaciated body, and gangly legs, and then back up, seeming to miss nothing.

Mitaka stared from one to the other. Where Techie was unhealthily thin, the General was svelte; where Techie was sallow and sickly, the General was elegantly pale, like an alabaster statue lit by rays from a rosy dawn. One had been neglected, tortured, abused, while the other was in perfect command of himself and his ship. Yet they were breathtakingly alike — both of a height, both with the same face.

Everything about the one was mirrored in the other — one right-side-up, and the other upside-down.

Mitaka couldn't help looking at the General even more than usual. The effect of having his almost-self standing right in front of him only made Hux shine more brightly, like a true diamond hiding among handfuls of cheap paste.

"Hello there," Hux finally said. "I assume the good Lieutenant informed you of our relation?" He flicked his eyes over to Mitaka.

At Mitaka's slight nod, the General continued, "I am, apparently, your elder brother, in a way."

Techie swallowed painfully and tried to speak, but failed. After at least ten seconds of watching him gape, Hux took pity on him and continued.

"I find it unacceptable that anyone with my genetic — heritage — should be abused or harmed. The First Order has dealt with the criminal gang who enslaved you. You will never suffer under them again. Is that clear?"

"Y- yes, sir," Techie managed to stammer.

Hux rocked back on his heels, with a nod of self-satisfaction. "Good. Well, then — welcome to the First Order. Lieutenant Mitaka here will take care of you."

I will? Mitaka thought, stunned. He had thought his involvement with this matter would end once he had brought Techie back to the Finalizer.

"He will?" Techie asked, then seemed to shrink back into himself, obviously afraid of being chastised for speaking out of turn.

"Yes," Hux said, his greenish-gray eyes sweeping from Mitaka to Techie and back. "Lieutenant, I am placing you on Special Duty Leave, effective immediately, so that you can accommodate this special project. See to it that Techie gets everything he needs and begins to acclimate to the Order."

"Special Duty leave, sir?" Mitaka echoed. He had not anticipated this at all. "But, my station —"

"Your station on the bridge will be amply filled in your absence, I assure you," the General said, effectively silencing him. "During this special assignment, I expect regular updates on my — brother's — progress. I want to be assured that he's settling in well. Acclimating to his new life. And I'm sure you'll be able to do that. Won't you, Lieutenant?"

His eyes were keenly focused on Mitaka and Mitaka alone. For an instant, it was as though the entire ship held just the two of them. It was like being caught in a tractor beam. Mitaka was completely unable to help himself from being pulled in.

Mitaka was already unable to deny General Hux anything he might want, or even hint at wanting. There was no way he could possibly refuse.

"Yes, sir," Mitaka said, privately resolving that he would do his best — his very best — if Hux would only look at him like that one more time.

"Very good. Then, you are dismissed."

"Yes, sir," Mitaka said again, with another salute. He ushered Techie back out into the hallway before he let his shoulders slump out of their correct position.

Special Duty Leave. That meant — well, it meant exile from all his normal patterns and routines. He hadn't assembled a handoff dossier for whoever they'd get to replace him! He'd had no idea his final shift on the bridge would be the last one for the foreseeable future. If only he'd known, he could have worked another few hours to get things into a presentable state! What if whoever replaced him didn't take enough care in monitoring the cleaning shifts for the turbolaser fire control matrices? What if they didn't know the intricate backstory behind why the TIE deployment rack system was in the midst of being redone?

What if they messed everything up, and General Hux blamed him?

Mitaka did not want to take Special Duty Leave. He wanted to get back to normal — his post on the bridge of the Finalizer, a hard-won and dearly treasured position. The bridge crew was tight-knit and highly efficient, having all been hand-picked by General Hux himself. They prided themselves on being a model for the rest of the Order.

Working on the bridge, getting to see the General every day and interact with him almost every day, gave his life meaning.

Then again, he thought, taking care of General Hux's clone is a rare opportunity, as well as a great honor.

In any case — orders were orders, and Mitaka would make the best of things.

He should check on his charge, first. Techie looked shell-shocked, as though he didn't know which way to turn or what to do with himself. He was hugging his own ribs so tightly that it had to hurt. Other First Order staff passing in the hall were sending him curious glances before smoothing their faces back into place and proceeding past.

"Do you have any questions?" Mitaka asked, gently.

Technie flinched as though he'd been slapped. "Questions?"

"Yes — like — do you want to know anything about the ship, or General Hux? Or the First Order?"

"No," Techie said, half-stammering over the word. "No, sir."

His eyes were darting all around the hallway.

I need to get him out of this hallway, Mitaka realized. He's terrified almost beyond rational thought.

"Well, Techie — let me take you to my quarters. Let's get some food into you," he decided.

Techie followed him down the acres of black, shining corridors. Seeing them through the eyes of a stranger — metaphorically speaking — made Mitaka realize how foreboding and ominous so much black might appear to someone new. It wasn't as though the Peach Trees complex had been filled with light and color, either — but something about the endless, shining black did seem somewhat unnecessarily bleak, now that Mitaka was looking at it with fresh eyes.

To a complete outsider, the First Order might even look like a force for evil.

Mitaka led the way to his quarters and used his code cylinder to gain access. Then he keyed the door to open only when the code cylinder was used to gain egress. Typically, this was not done, but the last thing Mitaka wanted was to lose track of the General's clone.

Techie didn't seem to be paying attention to what he was doing with the door panel, but Mitaka resolved not to underestimate the man. He was, genetically, General Hux, after all. He was probably quite capable of attacking Mitaka and stealing his code cylinders.

I'll just have to make sure that he has no cause to do that, Mitaka told himself.

As Lieutenant, he had a modest yet efficient set of rooms. There was one general room in the front, meant for entertaining a guest or two during Beta shift. It had a minimalistic kitchenette along one wall, as well as a table and two chairs, and a couch. He also had a bedroom and a refresher unit.

"Please, take a seat," Mitaka said, gesturing towards one of the chairs.

Techie didn't move at all. To show that it was safe, Mitaka took the second seat, laying his hands on his knees, palm-up.

Techie was still standing by the door as though half of him was about to turn and run right through it — or try to. He would only end up with a concussion in that case.

"Would you like to look through the rooms?" Mitaka asked.

Techie gave a quick, jerky nod.

"Then feel free," Mitaka said. "I'm going to use my datapad to order us some food." He pulled out his pad and started the process of ordering food, studiously ignoring Techie.

Ordering a meal from the droid delivery system was a bit of an extravagance. But he couldn't imagine Techie, as beaten-down and traumatized as he was right now, managing to hold his own in a First Order cafeteria, even with Mitaka at his elbow.

Techie's mechanical eyes whirred, evaluating Mitaka and the living room. Then, tentatively, he made his way to the door of the refresher unit, and then to the door of the bedroom. He looked over both rooms without entering either one, his body language tense and wary.

Then he returned to the living room and looked down at Mitaka, who looked up to meet his inhuman eyes.

And Mitaka's breath caught in his throat, because there — just there — he had seen a glimpse of Hux.

He almost hadn't believed it, at first — they were so different. But that flash of resolve he'd seen — that was one hundred percent pure Armitage Hux, and no mistake.

He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to pull Techie down into his arms, filth and all, and just comfort him for a moment. But that would probably get Techie to panic and attack him.

Stars help me, Mitaka thought, pondering the myriads of traps that seemed to be springing into existence all around his feet. Special Duty Leave might end up being more taxing than I thought.

The food arrived quickly, thanks to the First Order's famed efficiency. Mitaka brought the trays inside, encouraging Techie to sit down at the table and placing one of the trays in front of him.

Techie stared at the tray in front of him as though it were a venomous animal that might strike at him at any moment.

"I'm not sure what you're used to eating," Mitaka said, settling in across from him and pulling a second tray towards himself. "This is one of the standard ration packs here. It contains all the vitamins, minerals, and raw material the human body requires for optimum functioning."

He winced slightly, remembering how difficult it was to get the General to eat anything. Some days, Mitaka worried he was wasting away, sustaining himself seemingly only with stim pills, caf, and his ironclad will. He hoped Techie would be easier to feed.

Techie was still looking at the tray in front of him. He made no move to touch it.

"Do you have any questions about the rations?" Mitaka asked, gently.

Techie looked up at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I — I don't know how to open it."

"Here." Mitaka leaned over to grab his treasured bottle of hot sauce — one of his few indulgences — and then settled himself into his chair again, opening his own tray. "See? This is how to open the ration tray. Lift from this corner, then peel it back." He shook a few drops of hot sauce onto his food and smiled at Techie encouragingly.

"This is all — for me?" Techie asked, staring at his tray.

Mitaka's heart twisted. "Yes — this tray is for me, and that one is for you."

What had Techie been eating back on that accursed planet? From his unhealthy thiness, whatever it was, it hadn't been enough.

Techie peeled back the lid of his tray. He glanced up at Mitaka, seemingly in case being given his own tray was a trick, or a trap.

When Mitaka just smiled at him and took another bite of his own food, Techie wasted no time in tearing into his, He devoured the carbohydrate loaf, ripping it apart with his bare hands and using the bits to scoop up the protein slurry and stuff it all into his face as fast as possible. He ate so fast that Mitaka had a difficult time believing he was chewing.

Mitaka ate normally, using a knife and fork to portion out his loaf and slurry, and adding a bit of sauce from a bottle he kept in his quarters. He wasn't even a quarter of the way through his meal when Techie was already done, using his finger to swipe around the edges of the tray and then licking it to ingest every single molecule of food.

Mitaka winced again. Techie hadn't washed his hands. They would have to work on table manners later, as well.

"Would you like some more?" Mitaka asked, fork poised to take another bite.

Techie's eyes widened. He licked his chapped lips nervously.

Mitaka's heart twisted again. It was disconcerting to see someone who had so obviously been mistreated and abused. It made him angry at Ma-Ma and the sick society that had allowed her to flourish.

"It's all right," he said, trying for a hint of levity. "The First Order has many resources. You're allowed more food, if you need it."

Techie swallowed. "Then, yes please."

"All right." Mitaka pulled out his data pad and placed the order, noticing how Techie zeroed in on the screen. That tiny whirring sound was back.

At some point, we'll have to talk about his eyes, Mitaka thought. Specifically, how to take care of them — if they need any special parts — and perhaps whether they might give him an edge in finding a position here on the Finalizer.

But right now was not the time.

The door chime sounded, causing Techie to leap in his seat, obviously terrified.

"It's just the extra tray for you," Mitaka explained, getting up and scanning his code cylinder to open the door again. He took the tray from the droid and brought it in, placing it in front of Techie on the table.

His heart broke again from how Techie shrank away to the side, obviously wanting to put as much distance between the two of them as possible.

"Go ahead and eat," Mitaka encouraged him with as much gentleness as he could put into his voice. "Only, maybe slower this time. You don't want it to all come back up."

Techie frowned, staring at the tray, then nodded.

"I — I shouldn't waste food," he whispered. "A waster of food is a waste of space."

Now it was Mitaka's turn to frown. "Technically, if you did vomit your meal back up, we would merely send it to the composters to be recycled in the hydroponics program," he clarified. "Do you see that small hatch on the wall? Food waste goes in there, and is taken straight to the composting deck. Nothing on board a spaceship is lost, or wasted."

Techie looked at the hatch on the wall. His pupils whirred.

Now that Mitaka was looking at them more closely, he saw that they were tiny hexagons, surrounded by blue.

They stared at each other, Techie's hands poised to open the second tray.

"If it's not wasted..." Techie began, then petered out.

Mitaka waited for a few moments, but he showed no signs of finishing his sentence.

"What would you like to ask?" Mitaka finally inquired.

Techie cleared his throat. "Sorry, but if I threw it up... I wouldn't mean to, but, uh, I've done it before, it's happened before... if I threw it all back up, but it's not wasted, because you'd send it away, through that little hatch in the wall... would, would I still be punished?"

"Punished? Punished for what?"

"W-wasting, for wasting food," Techie breathed. "I've seen... I've, uh. I've seen people get. Punished for that."

Mitaka's heart broke for the third time over the past few hours.

"You would not be punished for wasting food," he said firmly. "Punishment in the First Order is defined by our Code of Conduct. Section Three clearly lays out the headings under which transgressions are categorized. And although wasting resources is categorized as a transgression, vomiting is a mere physical reaction, and thus would not qualify."

He couldn't help but remember that there were some edge cases in the Code of Conduct that could be used to categorize physical responses as types of treason or malfeasance. But Mitaka had never held to those overly-rigid interpretations of the Code. He preferred to think of the Code as a guideline to encourage correct behavior, rather than a cudgel to punish ill.

Techie was still staring at him. "And... can I, can I read it?" he asked. "Sorry."

"The Code of Conduct?"

At Techie's small nod, Mitaka said, "Of course you can read it. I'll get you a datapad of your own, and we can load it on first thing."

"Thank you," Techie whispered. "I'm so sorry, don't hate me — I forgot your name already, I'm sorry, I can't remember it."

He's going to just break my heart on an ongoing basis, isn't he? Mitaka thought. That had been at least the fourth time.

"I'm not angry. It takes a lot to make me angry," Mitaka attempted to joke. He leaned over, intending to give a friendly and reassuring pat to Techie's shoulder.

But the comment didn't land well, nor did the gesture. Techie flinched back, his eyes blinking and whirring, his hands coming up in front of him out of sheer reflex.

Realizing he'd made a mistake, Mitaka sat back and scrambled to recover.

"I mean — I can't think of a single thing you could do that would make me angry with you," Mitaka clarified. "We rescued you. You've been horribly victimized. I'm angry at Ma-Ma, the person who did all this. Not at you. Does that make sense?"

Techie was staring at him. When the silence had gone on slightly too long, he whispered, "Yes."

"Good." Mitaka put another reassuring smile onto his face, and continued, "You've been through a lot today. It makes sense you don't remember every little thing, like my name."

Techie was still staring at him.

"My name is Dopheld Mitaka. I'm a Lieutenant here," Mitaka said. "You can call me Mitaka. All right?"

Techie swallowed, paused, then finally gave a small nod.

It was so like one of the General's nods that Mitaka almost couldn't stand it.

"Good. Go ahead and eat as much as you want," Mitaka said, picking up his data pad. "I'm going to see about requisitioning you some new clothes."

He knew the General's measurements, so he placed a requisition for several sets of plain black clothes that ought to fit.

Mitaka did not care to examine why he knew General Hux's measurements off the top of his head. In this instance, it would come in handy.

Not for the first time, he wondered how much Hux suspected of his ill-advised, disastrous crush. He thought he had been good about keeping it under wraps. But then again, the General seemed to know everything of import that happened on board his ship, and a great many things that happened off it.

It wouldn't surprise Mitaka to know that General Hux had known about his ridiculous feelings this entire time — perhaps before he had even recognized them in himself.

I've worked so hard, Mitaka thought. And all I want is a position on the bridge, where I can see the General every day, and be of service to him.

The more he observed Techie, who was now eating his second tray of food — more slowly than the first tray, at least, which was to the good — the more Mitaka was realizing that he would not be able to return to the bridge any time soon. Techie was deeply traumatized. He needed multiple interventions.

Really, Mitaka ought to find a task force of experts here on the Finalizer to help bring Techie back to baseline functionality — doctors, nutritionists, someone to look at his technological eyes and see if that tiny whirring sound was a problem...

I'm not qualified to help him. Not really, Mitaka thought, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. If I make mistakes, I might end up doing more harm than good.

But, since General Hux had given the command, all Mitaka could do was obey to the best of his ability — and try not to make any mistakes.

And now, I'll have an excuse to write to him, Mitaka reassured himself, perking up. He told me to write to him with updates.

I can even write to him every day.

This might be even better than getting to serve on the bridge and observe General Hux up close. This way, Mitaka would have a guaranteed inside line to him — a line that he knew Hux would both read and pay attention to.

On the bridge, Mitaka couldn't count on having the General's undivided attention that often — certainly not every day.

He swallowed, feeling a fluttering of excitement in his chest.

It was probably wrong to think about helping Techie as a way to get the General's attention — but Mitaka was quite certain that he wouldn't be able to help it.

Techie was just finishing with his second tray. His speed had slowed down considerably, and he seemed to be almost forcing himself to finish the last few grains of his carbohydrate loaf.

It was an unusual assignment, but clearly, one that needed to be done.

Mitaka wrinkled his nose, looking at Techie's general unkempt state. Before he let Techie and his greasy hair and filthy body fall asleep either in bed or on the couch, he really needed to get him clean — or at least cleaner.

The door chime sounded again, and Techie jumped again — although, Mitaka thought, a bit less than he had jumped the first time.

It was another droid, this one with the new clothes Mitaka had just requisitioned. He brought them inside and placed them on the end of the couch.

"All right — your new clothes are here. Next up — let's get you clean," Mitaka announced, hoping that this suggestion would turn out to be a non-issue.

Techie's head snapped up. His eyes widened in seeming betrayal, staring from Mitaka to the bundle of black clothes and back.

He burrowed his hands inside the sleeves of his ratty, disgusting shirt and clutched at his own sides, starting to rock back and forth.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, screwing his eyes closed. "Sorry. But — I don't, I don't."

Now it was Mitaka's turn to frown. "You don't want to get clean? Send those filthy clothes through the hatch and use them in the composting program?"

Techie opened his eyes again. "I can't, I —"

Mitaka gazed at him worriedly, unsure how to help him.

"I. Ma-Ma gave me this shirt," Techie whispered. "I have to keep it. Because — what if, what if she comes back?"

Chapter Text

"Ma-Ma is dead," Mitaka said, frowning. He had told Techie that pretty clearly during their trip off the planet; he was sure of it.

Techie was still rocking back and forth, eyes screwed closed, muttering under his breath.

"I saw her die," Mitaka said. "We have a holorecording that shows everything that happened."

That got Techie to open his eyes and stop rocking. He stared at Mitaka, his huge, red-rimmed blue eyes whirring and clicking.

"You do?"

"Ah — yes, yes, we have footage from our troopers' bodycams that shows the... incident," Mitaka admitted, wincing internally.

Maybe he shouldn't have admitted that they had footage of Ma-Ma's last moments. Maybe seeing her brutal execution would only reopen wounds for Techie, or make him fear the First Order.

Mitaka knew that many people in the galaxy feared the First Order. Before, that had always seemed like a good thing — a cudgel to use to encourage adherence to the rule of law and punish evildoers. But looking at Techie, sweating and trembling from delayed shock, he couldn't help thinking that perhaps the First Order was a bit scarier than it really needed to be.

"Can I see it? Sorry," Techie whispered. His eyes refocused and he blinked several times in a row, very fast.

Mitaka pursed his lips. "Tell you what. Yes, you can see the footage, if you're sure you want to. But first, we have to get you clean."

Techie swallowed hard, clutching his arms to his sides. "The... the shirt," he whispered. "I have to keep the shirt. Please."

Mitaka decided not to press the point. Perhaps this was something Techie needed in order to feel secure here.

"All right. We can keep the shirt until you decide otherwise. But we'll use the rest in the hydroponics system, as fertilizer." He wrinkled his nose. "It smells like it's already half decomposed already."

"Sorry," Techie said, screwing his eyes closed and slumping back. "I, I know I smell bad, I just can't, I just have to keep it. You're being so nice, but I'm sorry, I have to."

Mitaka paused, looking down at Techie. He seemed smaller than before; he was shrinking in on himself.

Techie was afraid — that much was obvious. Whether of the First Order as a whole, Mitaka in particular, or a vengeful Ma-Ma back from the dead, he was so terrified he was trembling.

"Come on," Mitaka said, holding out a hand to help him up. "You really do have to get clean. I can't let you sleep in the bed like this."

Techie stared up at him, his pulse clearly visible in his throat. His eyes widened, then went glassy.

All right — so, no giving him a hand to help him up, Mitaka noted to himself.

Mitaka tucked his hand behind his back and gave his best encouraging smile. "Go on, get up. I'll show you how to use the refresher unit."

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Techie was awkward, staring around the inside of the refresher unit and barely controlling his panicked reactions to being in such a small space with only one exit. He kept turning away from Mitaka and ducking his head. Finally, Mitaka succeeded in encouraging him out of his filthy clothes — if clothes they could be called — and installing him under a bracing stream of hot water.

Mitaka thanked the Order for the luxuries he'd been able to earn by getting promoted. Hot water showers began at the Lieutenant level, and were a fiercely desired luxury by all those beneath that rank. Techie was benefiting from that now, for which he was glad.

He set Techie's horrid, filthy shirt on a table in the main room, well away from the food area, and took delight in flinging the rest of his rags down the chute in the wall. Then he lingered at the door to the refresher.

There were no sounds from inside except the faint drumming of the water on the floor of the unit.

After counting to one hundred, and then two hundred, Mitaka grew concerned. How long did Techie need to shower and scrub himself? What if he had injured himself, or was having a panic attack?

"Techie? Are you all right in there?" he called through the door.

There was no answer, which spiked his concern even more.

"I'd like to come in to check on you. Please call out if that's not all right," he said, loudly enough to be heard over the shower. Then he listened carefully for some indication that Techie didn't want him to enter.

Hearing none, Mitaka went back into the unit to check on the General's clone.

Techie was huddled into the corner of the shower, still filthy. He was staring at the water as though hypnotized.

"Hey there," Mitaka said with a cautious half-smile, poking his head around the curtain. "Are you all right in there?"

Techie didn't respond. He was staring at the shower as though he'd never seen falling water before. For all Mitaka knew, he hadn't.

"Do you need some help getting clean?" Mitaka pressed.

Still no answer.

"I'm going to come in and help you," Mitaka decided. Clearly he would have to take this matter into his own hands.

Only after he'd stripped down to his briefs and stepped into the shower did it occur to him what exactly he was about to do. He was about to touch General Hux's clone, at least a little bit — just enough to get him clean, at any rate.

This is not sexual in nature, Mitaka told himself firmly. This is therapeutic.

"I'm going to narrate what I'm doing before I do it, all right? That way, you won't be surprised."

Techie flicked a glance at him. Although he didn't nod, his face seemed to betray that he both heard and understood.

"Good. All right. This is the shampoo bottle, mounted into the wall. When the refresher unit isn't in use, it retracts into the wall. I'm taking a dollop — see how the nozzle works? Now I'm rubbing it between my hands. And now, I'm going to put it in your hair and rub it in with my fingertips."

Mitaka's heart had kicked up. This was a delicate juncture. If Techie was going to lose his shit and attack, being touched on the head was probably one of the triggers that might set that off. Mitaka was smaller, and Techie had the look of someone right on the edge; someone who could be set off by any little thing.

But instead of turning to attack him, or freaking out and bolting from the refresher, Techie just stood still. He stood even more still, if possible. It was as though he wasn't breathing at all.

"Now I'm lathering the shampoo down to the ends," Mitaka said, matching actions to words. "Now, I'm going to direct the nozzle so it rinses the shampoo out."

The water flowing off Techie's head was gray. Bits of something were coming out, too, and Mitaka shuddered to realize that at least a few of the bits were some form of tiny insect.

"I bet your scalp stings right now," he commented, getting another pump of shampoo. "But getting all of this nastiness out of your hair is going to help with that. Here; we're going to shampoo you a second time, all right?"

Techie allowed it, still as silent as a statue. The height difference was a bit of a problem, but Mitaka stood on his tiptoes and reached up and was able to get Techie's hair all over, even the very crown of his head.

"Good. Do you think you can wash your body yourself?" Mitaka asked.

Stars, it was hot in the shower. The water was making him blush.

Techie gave a slight 'no' shake of his head, and Mitaka knew the next few minutes were going to be indelibly burned into his mind.

Because the thing was that even though Techie and General Hux were emphatically not the same person, in a way, they were. They had the same genes, at least. If General Hux had been subjected to the same horrifying abuse —

Mitaka stopped that train of thought at the station. He needed to remain professional. It didn't matter that Techie was the clone of the man he was pathetically, hopelessly obsessed with; it only mattered that he was a wounded, vulnerable person in Mitaka's care. Mitaka's weird feelings were his own business, and he would deal with them on his own time.

"All right," he said, stalling a bit, mentally preparing himself for the next challenge that faced him. So far, he'd kept his eyes above Techie's collarbones, but that was going to have to change.

"Now I'm getting some soap, and a washcloth. After the refresher unit is stowed away, the dirty cloth will be sent to Laundry, and a clean one will automatically pop into this slot, here. See? Just part of the First Order's system for hygiene."

Mitaka knew he was stalling. Mentally shaking himself, he moistened the washcloth and lathered it with soap, then focused his eyes directly forward and started to wash the man in front of him.

He'd already known Techie was tall and distressingly skinny. It turned out he also had a wide variety of scars, some of which looked barely healed; others of which were clearly years old. Mitaka pressed his lips together in outrage at the evidence of constant abuse. He could only hope that Techie hadn't been permanently harmed — at least, not more than he already knew.

"Please let me know if any of this hurts you," Mitaka said. "All right?"

Techie was back to staring at the water again, as frozen as a mouse in a field, hoping the hawk overhead won't decide it's a meal.

Is he that afraid of the water? Mitaka wondered. Of soap?

He drew the washcloth over Techie's thin, nigh-concave chest, then down his sides where the ribs stuck out, and to his barely-there stomach and the tops of his hips.

Mitaka cleared his throat. "Could you turn around, please?"

Techie's mechanical eyeballs whirred slightly, refocusing on Mitaka. Looking up at them, Mitaka saw that they were wider than usual.

"Or you could wash your back yourself," Mitaka offered. Maybe Techie didn't want to turn his back on a stranger. That would be fair, Mitaka supposed. He'd clearly been hurt many times in the past; he had no way of knowing that Mitaka would never do that.

Techie licked his lips and said the first thing Mitaka had heard from him since he'd entered the refresher unit.

"You... you should do it," he said in a voice so small it was hard to hear over the drumming of the water.

"All right. Just turn around," Mitaka said.

Slowly, Techie turned to face the wall, bracing his hands there and lowering his freshly washed head between his shoulders.

Mitaka swiped the cloth along the bony ridges of his shoulderblades, then down the slender lines of his back. Every vertebra was visible, and Mitaka found himself frowning.

"We'll need to feed you more," he said, partly because it was true, and partly to break up the tension that he was feeling. Techie's back was scarred as well, but less scarred than his front. Perhaps Ma-Ma had enjoyed watching his face when she hurt him.

His relatively unmarred back meant that from this angle, if he ignored all the context cues around him, Mitaka could almost pretend —

No, he told himself, shutting that thought off at the source yet again. They are two completely different people. They are nothing alike.

That wasn't quite true, though. As he washed lower, passing the cloth over the twin pale globes of Techie's ass, he really couldn't help thinking about a wild, fanciful alternate reality in which he, Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka, was invited to General Hux's quarters for this very purpose. Or maybe they could go on shore leave together, and Hux might need him to — oh, check him for planet-side contagions; that was a thing that could happen! Mitaka would be so assiduous about checking every corner of the General's body, several times, if need be.

He found that he was moving the cloth back and forth over the same part of Techie rather more than he needed to, and cleared his throat.

Techie breathed in, held it, then dug his fingers into the wall and widened his stance. He stuck out his ass in a way that seemed strangely purposeful.

Mitaka couldn't help his confused expression. In any other context, he would think that Techie was preparing to take it up the ass. But here —

Oh, Mitaka thought, his heart breaking. Techie was trembling, staring at the wall with unseeing eyes. He was clearly on the edge of hyperventilating.

"You, ah. You don't need to do that," Mitaka said gruffly, crouching down and swiping the washcloth up and down the backs of Techie's legs.

He stood up, the heat and the sudden change in his body position giving him a slight head rush.

And also, having someone who looked so much like Hux standing there, water cascading down off his long, pale limbs dusted with reddish-gold, like starlight shining off the surface of the fleet. The head rush was from that, too.

"Are you all right to wash your front? Great," Mitaka said, not waiting for an answer. He kept his gaze above Techie's collarbones again. "I'll step out."

He left the shower as quickly as possible, toweling himself off with savage intensity to make his shameful erection go down.

I can't believe I got turned on by that, Mitaka thought, rubbing water out of his hair as hard as he could. What is wrong with me? Maybe the General should have assigned someone else to this special project.

He hadn't been tempted to take sexual advantage of Techie, the way Techie clearly thought he was about to. But he had been tempted to pull Techie into a tight hug and try to kiss him better.

None of that was up to Mitaka's standards of professionalism. And with how traumatized Techie was, none of that would do any good at all.

Techie managed to wash his front — at least, Mitaka hoped and assumed so — and dry his own body. Once Techie was wearing a thick, fluffy robe, and Mitaka had changed into another set of civilian clothes, he felt himself to be on far firmer ground.

Back in the other room, Techie immediately found his filthy old shirt and clutched it to his chest.

"We should really wash that," Mitaka offered, but without much hope that his suggestion would go over well.

When Techie just stared at him and shrank in on himself, Mitaka sighed, and beckoned him over to the couch, encouraging him to sit down.

"You said you wanted your own datapad? With the Code of Conduct loaded onto it?" Mitaka prompted.

Techie nodded, and then breathed in sharply, as though about to say something.

Mitaka waited.

Finally, Techie overcame whatever nervousness was getting in the way of his words.

"Uh, before, you... you said that you saw what happened," he said in a small, scared voice.

"What happened? Oh, you mean at the Peach Trees complex?"

At Techie's tiny nod, Mitaka gave a larger one. "Yes. I oversaw the operation."

"You... said you had a recording?"

Mitaka tilted his head to one side. "Are you sure you want to see it?"

Techie nodded, his eyes whirring again.

"Well... all right. I must warn you that it's rather graphic."

"Good," Techie said with surprising viciousness.

Mitaka huffed with laughter. Just there, that moment had been pure Hux.

The two of them really were completely different people — but even so, every so often there was a surprising streak of absolute similarity.

"Just a moment — I have a spare datapad," Mitaka said, crossing to his bedroom and retrieving it from a drawer. He swiped it open, then deleted everything on it except the First Order Code of Conduct. Then he opened his own datapad and pulled up the recordings of the Peach Tree raid, then swiped them onto the new pad.

"Here you are. Do you need me to teach you how to use it?"

Techie swallowed, his mechanical eyes avid. "I've seen you... I've watched you. I think I can do it."

"Great. Well, then — I'll leave you to it," Mitaka said.

He sat down at the table with his own datapad and began compiling a long note to whomever had replaced him on the bridge, filling them in as to all the minutiae that they might not be aware of.

Sounds from the couch indicated that Techie was watching the footage of the raid. There were shouts, screams, blaster shots.

Then, a woman's voice: 'You fuckers will never take me a-'

A shot, a wet squishing sound, a thud.

Mitaka glanced over in concern. Would seeing this moment be even more traumatic for Techie? After all, she had abused him, kept him practically a slave, and harmed him again and again; but in a way, Ma-Ma had been Techie's only family.

The datapad paused, then started again. Screams, shouts, shots.

'You fuckers will never take me a-'

The same sequence of distressing sounds, in the same order.

Mitaka closed his eyes briefly. It had been earlier this same day — how could so many things happen all in the same day? — but it already felt like a lifetime ago, to him. But to Techie, seeing it for the first time...

"Hey," Mitaka said, approaching the couch gently from the side. "Are you all right?"

The datapad in Techie's hand was making sounds. 'You fuckers will never take me a-'

Blast, squish, thud.

"Do you need to see it this often?" Mitaka asked in a low, non-threatening tone of voice. He eased himself down on the couch next to Techie, a respectable distance away.

Techie was staring at the screen. He rewound the footage.

'You fuckers will never take me a-'

Techie swallowed, then raised his eyes to Mitaka's. They whirred and refocused on him.

"Ma-Ma took my first eyes," he said, in a strangely detached tone of voice, as though he was announcing some unimportant fact that no one would care about. "My flesh eyes. I'd been bad. I don't remember... I don't remember what I did, but I was bad."

Mitaka's face twisted up in sympathy. He held his tongue, hoping that Techie would get something meaningful out of confiding in him. Even if it was tough for him.

Even if it was tough for Mitaka.

"She did it with her thumbs," Techie whispered, staring down at the screen again. He rewound the footage and watched it again, obsessively.

'You fuckers will never take me a-'

"She said... she wanted me to have new eyes. So I could see more. So I could be her eyes," Techie whispered. "But she never... she never..."

The silence stretched on so long that Mitaka thought he might grow roots here, sitting on the couch. He might just die here, sitting on the couch next to Techie, waiting for him to finish his thought.

Techie started the footage playing again, clutching the datapad hard between his hands. Screams, shouts, blasts.

'You fuckers will -'

"Hey," Mitaka said gently, layering his hand over Techie's. "Maybe you've seen this enough for now."

Techie stared at him, then breathed out. He paused the recording.

"All right. Mitaka."

Mitaka gave him a full, true smile. That's the first time he's used my name, he told himself jubilantly. Progress!

Techie's eyes went wide again. His pupils refocused on Mitaka.

"It doesn't seem real," he whispered. "None... none of this seems real. I keep thinking I'll wake up, and Ma-Ma will... Ma-Ma will..."

Suddenly, Techie's thin, bony shoulders curved forward. He caught at his own head, pulling it down towards the cradle of his knees, and began sobbing in complete silence.

"Oh!" Mitaka exclaimed, hovering at the side uselessly. Should he touch Techie, just to pull him into a hug? Would that make it worse? Or better?

"Would you like a hug?" he offered, feeling completely out of his depth.

Techie just hunched forward even more, his body wracked by great, heaving, yet completely silent sobs.

He must have learned how to cry without anyone hearing him, Mitaka thought, and the idea was so offensive to his ideas about how the universe ought to work that he was briefly inhabited by a surge of anger so strong that he felt prepared to go back down to that awful planet and raze the Peach Trees complex to the ground. Again.

"It's all right," Mitaka offered. "If you want a hug, just... let me know. Any time. Day or night. All right?"

Techie kept on crying to himself, and Mitaka kept on not touching him, although it was agony to watch someone in so much pain and not offer him physical comfort.

If I hugged him, he'd probably think I just want to fuck him, Mitaka thought grimly. It was clear that he'd need to keep scrupulous boundaries in order to help Techie heal from all the ways his body and his consent had been violated time and time again.

Finally, Techie's shoulders stopped shaking. He sat up, his eyes even more rimmed with red than before, and reached up the sleeve of his robe to wipe his streaming eyes and snotty nose.

"Oh — no, no!" Mitaka exclaimed, springing to his feet. Where were those tissues of his? In the bedroom?

Coming back into the main room, he saw Techie staring at him with huge, terrified eyes. Then he cast himself down off the couch to the floor onto his hands and knees.

"I'm sorry! I'm — sorry, I'm sorry!" he repeated, again and again, in a monotone, horrifyingly servile way. "I'm so sorry, I won't do it again. Please, please don't punish me."

Mitaka's face twisted up in pity, and a bit of revulsion. It was uncouth for a grown man to prostrate himself on the floor in front of someone else in this manner. Officers in the First Order should have more pride.

He's not an officer, Mitaka reminded himself. Perhaps, someday, if Techie could get over some of his obvious hangups and learn a skill, he might find a rank of his own. But until then, he was eminently disposable. At least, that's clearly how Techie thought of himself.

Mitaka would have to open his eyes to other possibilities.

"Techie. On your feet," he snapped, drawing himself up to his full height — which, admittedly, was not very much in comparison with his charge.

Techie was so shocked by his authoritative tone that he rose to his feet immediately, his eyes and nose still streaming. The sleeve of his black robe had a large wet shiny patch on it, as though it had been touched by a dianoga.

Mitaka held out the box of tissues and raised his eyebrows. "I expect you to use these when your eyes or nose are leaking," he said. "Take this and clean yourself up. Throw the used tissues into the compost hatch I showed you before. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, sir," Techie said, taking the box in limp, nerveless hands. His eyes were whirring back and forth between Mitaka and the tissues, and he seemed upended, but at least he was no longer on his hands and knees like the lowest slave on some New Republic world.

"Good job," Mitaka said after he had mopped himself up. "Now, go and wash the sleeve of that robe as well. There's no reason to smear body fluids everywhere. Remember that the First Order runs a clean ship."

Techie nodded, his eyes still wide, and disappeared into the refresher unit.

Mitaka sighed, sitting down and pulling out his datapad. Perhaps he had been a bit too tough there — but the sooner he could train Techie out of the faulty mental patterns that had been instilled in him, the sooner Techie could lead a normal, productive life in the First Order.

To: General Hux
From: Lieutenant Mitaka
Subject: Progress Report, Day 1

Security: Reprogrammed the door mechanism to require code cylinder for egress.
Nutrition: Subject ate two complete ration packs (type DS-7) without incident.
Hygiene: Subject showered to my satisfaction.
Attire: Acquired a set of casual clothing (set RT45-YO) for subject, and subject is using it currently.
Mental state:

Here, Mitaka paused. Perhaps he should be a bit more verbose, to truly explain what Techie was going through.

     Subject remains upset and perturbed about the sudden change in his life situation. He expressed an interest in reading the First Order's Code of Conduct, and in reviewing the footage of the takedown of the Peach Trees complex.

Mitaka paused again. Should he mention that Techie was watching the footage a bit too many times?

No — if it became an issue later, he could raise it then. For now, he would merely report facts, and not mere suppositions.

Sleep: Sleep is still to be attempted.
Plan for Tomorrow: Ship orientation and tour. Medical checkup. Addition to FO databanks.

There. That was a succinct, yet descriptive, summary of the current state of Mitaka's 'special project.'

Speaking of his special project: Techie was coming back into the room now. The sleeve of his robe had clearly been washed and then wrung dry assiduously, and his face was clear of any distressing fluids.

"Very good," Mitaka said, sending his message and setting his datapad aside.

Techie gave a small nod. He was watching Mitaka warily, as though he might suddenly start to yell for no reason.

Mitaka smothered another sigh and stood up. "Well! I'll show you how to clean your teeth and then let's get you settled in to bed."

Techie made no objection to learning how to clean his teeth with First Order tooth powder; a notoriously sterile-tasting substance that everyone on board complained about regularly. He balked slightly at the sight of Mitaka's bed, casting nervous glances towards him, especially once Mitaka explained that he would be sleeping on the couch and giving Techie the bed.

"Mitaka, sir... are you sure? That's your bed," Techie said hesitantly. "I can sleep on the couch."

"Nonsense. You are a guest here on the Finalizer," Mitaka said firmly. "I couldn't think of giving you the couch. You need to rest and recover. A decent bed, and some privacy, is the least I can offer."

Techie nodded, but cast his eyes down. From that, Mitaka got the feeling that he didn't really approve of Mitaka's decision making.

He insisted on keeping his filthy shirt with him, bundling it up and putting it under his pillow, and Mitaka was too tired to object.

Well, he'll just have to get used to it, Mitaka thought, making up his couch with sheets, a blanket, and a pillow. He dimmed the room lights with a verbal command and settled in, turning the pillow to try to fall asleep.

One reason for the sleeping arrangements that he hadn't told Techie, but that was uppermost in his mind, was that if he'd installed Techie here on the couch, he'd be far better positioned to try to make a break for it. His name was 'Techie,' after all; he was probably capable of hacking the door module. This way, Techie would have to sneak past Mitaka in order to get to the door and try to escape.

Mitaka had just about fallen asleep when he heard the telltale sound of a new message from the General appearing on his datapad.

He scrambled for the device, blinking his tired eyes and squinting at the message.

To: Lieutenant Mitaka
From: General Hux
Subject: Re: Progress Report, Day 1

Very good. Continue as planned.

He said 'very good' to me! Mitaka crowed to himself, feeling his mouth curve into a delighted smile. He read my message! He replied to it himself! The same shift!

The General was a very busy man. He often did not reply to unimportant messages at all. Mitaka felt honored that he had been chosen to receive this bounty.

He gazed down at his datapad, feeling a surge of affection so strong it almost brought more tears to his eyes.

I'll take good care of your clone, sir, Mitaka thought as he nestled down into his pillow and attempted to fall asleep for the second time. I swear I'll do my very best.

He could imagine the General looking down on him with those green-ice eyes of his. A slight softness might come over his face, as it often did when he thought no one was watching him; Mitaka had noticed it many times.

Very good, Lieutenant, he imagined Hux saying. I'm quite pleased with your diligence.

Mitaka was falling asleep. The curtain between the waking world and the dream world was falling over him more and more thickly. That was why he didn't stop himself from imagining, just a little bit, what other ways he might someday be able to show Hux how extremely diligent he could be.

Chapter Text

The room was too big and too different from his place before, his place back in Peach Trees, but that place was gone now; the First Order had blown it up. He'd seen the building collapsing shortly after they'd lifted off.

His whole life had been in that building, and now it was gone, and he was here, in a place with no windows, because there was nothing to look out at because they were in space.

He was in space. He was an astronaut. Or — something. More like, he was a captive in a place too big to escape from.

The thought of being in space was terrifying. The thought of staying on this ship was also terrifying. In comparison, the thought of going back to Peach Trees didn't seem scary at all. At least he knew all the hazards of Peach Trees; he knew how to survive there. He knew how to placate Ma-Ma and make sure she was happy all the time, or at least, as happy as he could make her. He knew how to not piss her off.

Mostly.

Here, the rules were all different. He didn't know what was going to happen to him, and he had no control over it, over any of it. These people could do literally anything they wanted and Techie would have no way to fight back.

People in Mega City One didn't give things away for free, and Techie ventured to guess that the First Order, huge as it seemed to be, was also not in the habit of giving away things it did not need to give. They must have an angle for why they had extracted him; they must want him for something.

But what?

Before, he'd tried to be valuable to Ma-Ma. He hadn't succeeded, but he had always tried, and that's why she had kept him around. That, and because she enjoyed the sounds he made when she was hurting him. He knew he wasn't good enough, but Ma-Ma kept him around anyway, mostly because no one else would be able to put up with him.

Now she was dead. The First Order had executed her, without a trial; without even a shadow of a pretense that this was a judicial or approved action. They'd just fucking killed her.

Techie curled up on his side. His eyes were burning and he was exhausted. His painfully full belly was urging him to sleep. But he needed to stay awake. It was only a matter of time before someone came to this room and collected on the debt he already owed them.

What would it be? His organs, to implant into that scary-looking General Hux? No possibility of transplant failure; if they were truly a genetic match, the organs would be accepted immediately. Hux could keep Techie around as a walking organ donation bank for whenever he needed a kidney, a liver, a heart.

At least he can't take my flesh eyes, Techie thought, clutching his old shirt to his chest and staring at the door. It still hadn't opened, and it had been hours. Mostly because I don't have them anymore.

Or maybe it wouldn't be his organs. Maybe it would be something else.

For a brief flash of a moment, Techie imagined that perhaps, just perhaps, the First Order might value him for his technical expertise, the way Ma-Ma had. But then he remembered that Ma-Ma had been the only one who would ever put up with him and his stupidity and his cowardice and his weakness. The First Order was strong, and huge. There were tens of thousands of people on board this ship, and it sounded like there were a lot of ships.

What chance did Techie have of offering them any useful skills they didn't already have? Even his cyber eyes, which had given him an advantage in Peach Trees, were far less advanced than the tech he was seeing here. They had guns that shot solid beams of light. Not lasers — Techie knew about lasers — these were different; they shot light, but it was solid. That didn't make any sense at all.

There was no way the First Order needed him for anything technical.

So, then, what? Techie thought, his mouth going dry. But he already knew the answer.

He needed to find a protector in the First Order and figure out how to make them happy. Maybe that person would be the General, but Techie doubted it. He had looked too commanding, too superior to put up with a perennial screw-up like Techie.

No, his protector here was probably Lieutenant Mitaka, with his big brown eyes that looked at him with such an array of strange expressions. Techie didn't know what to make of him yet, but he needed to figure it out, and fast, before they figured out that he was so useless, so fucking pathetic, that even feeding him was a waste of resources. They'd be better off shoving him down that hatch to the hydroponics deck and letting his corpse fertilize their crops.

If Mitaka was his protector, and Techie needed to please him, then he needed to figure out what Mitaka wanted.

Mitaka had touched him more than once, and his touch had lingered. Techie knew what that meant.

And in the shower, he'd thought —

That was a dumb thought, Techie told himself. His left hip was sore from pressing into the mattress and he wanted to turn over, but he needed to keep lying on his left side so he had the door in his line of sight. He needed to know when it opened, so he could be ready.

Maybe Mitaka would come into the room in the middle of the night and take what he wanted. He didn't seem to be a violent person, but then again, he had overseen the destruction of Peach Trees — and he had seemed happy about having done it. Techie had been watching him closely from the first moment they met. In the shuttle, blasting away from Mega City One, Mitaka had been satisfied, even pleased, at the destruction of Techie's entire world.

Or maybe the General would come into the room tonight. He was Techie's brother, or genetic donor, they said. Techie couldn't see how anyone as pretty and sleek and confident-looking could have any relation to himself. Maybe they'd gotten the files mixed up.

Techie's eyes whirred in the dark as he considered that topic. Maybe the First Order had made a terrible mistake and Techie wasn't really related to this General Hux at all. Maybe they'd figure that out soon. Maybe they'd killed Ma-Ma and destroyed Peach Trees and taken him from his home for no reason at all.

He couldn't sleep. He was so stupid. He needed to sleep, but he couldn't sleep, because any minute, someone was going to come through that door.

Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe this was a test, to see what he did when he was left alone. Maybe he was supposed to do something with the datapad, something to prove himself, to prove that he was worthy of being allowed to continue living here.

Maybe they wanted him to try to escape, to show his mettle? Sometimes Ma-Ma had set traps like that for him, so when he tried to escape she could catch him and mock him, and if he didn't try to escape she could abuse him for being so weak and spineless. Maybe they were like that here.

Maybe Mitaka wasn't sleeping in the next room. Maybe he was in a command center somewhere, watching Techie through a hidden camera.

Techie couldn't sleep. He pulled out the datapad again and watched the bodycam footage from Stormtrooper TY-7834 first. He had the best angle of approach; he'd been right in the center of the formation when they'd stormed Ma-Ma's penthouse.

By now, several hours after being put in this room, Techie had watched all the footage many, many times, but it was still fresh and new to watch it again. He didn't know if he'd ever get tired of watching it.

He didn't know how he felt about it.

Ma-Ma's voice, screaming at the First Order stormtroopers: 'You fuckers will never take me a-'

She meant to say 'alive,' but she didn't get the chance, Techie pondered, blinking his tired, burning eyes at the footage. From this angle, he could make out her face — furious, vengeful, defiant.

Terrified.

She had known this was her final moment. She had known, and she had still defied the invaders of her home, her turf.

She had been brave.

In comparison, Techie wasn't brave at all. He'd run like a fucking coward, hiding in the vents until one of the troopers found him and hauled him out by the arm. They had night vision built into those helmets, so hiding from them wasn't really a thing anyone could do.

Then they'd blown the whole place up.

My things, Techie mourned, playing the footage from the next stormtrooper, UL-3586. This clip was from a slightly different angle. He could only see the back of Ma-Ma's head, changing in an instant from the familiar dark brown he knew better than his own hair into a mist of blood as someone took the kill shot.

All his things were gone — his wire sculptures, even the ones he'd made for Ma-Ma and given her when he was trying to placate her or earn her favor. It's not as though Techie had many possessions, but the ones he had were his.

This place was not his.

When he'd first been sent to this room he'd been too terrified to examine it. But now, the odds were that Mitaka was asleep in the next room, on the couch. He probably wouldn't notice if Techie got up and looked through some of his things.

Unless he was watching through a camera after all. But maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just sleeping.

Should he check?

He should check.

Techie slowly eased himself out of bed, leaving behind the datapad and his old shirt, and padded to the doorway. He had noticed how to open it, and he did so now. He peered out.

From this angle, he could see Mitaka's sleek brown head, nestled into a pillow, barely visible over the arm of the couch.

All right. So he's asleep, Techie thought. I could make a break for it?

The door out was on the other end of the room. He'd have to walk right by Mitaka to make it there, and he didn't know how to open it.

Even if he managed that, where would he go? The ship was huge; he'd seen it on the way in. He had no idea how to steal a shuttle and fly it off.

No, he needed to stay here and figure out what Mitaka wanted, then find a way to give it to him.

Techie needed to learn more about him so he could figure this situation out.

Ma-Ma was gone. Now he had to worry about this Mitaka — and General Hux. And, apparently, a whole giant ship with no windows that was flying through space. With tens of thousands of troops on board, all of whom had night vision built into their helmets, and laser guns that Techie had never even dreamed of before.

Moving silently, Techie closed the door. He turned back into the bedroom and began looking through Lieutenant Mitaka's things.

There was a tall door in the wall that turned out to be a recessed cavity where uniforms and other clothes were stored. There was a chamber built into the wall near the head of the bed containing some small personal items that Techie could not immediately identify. Why was this round, shimmering rock important? What did this scrap of cloth and metal mean?

The room held little else. Everything was black, and neat, and clean. It was so neat and clean that it was disorienting.

Techie had a sudden, vicious longing for his untidy — all right, for his filthy — nest back on the floor of the server room. He had to crawl into that nest from the end because the servers blocked any path from the sides. Once he was in his nest, people could only see his feet. Ma-Ma used to mock him and say he was just a fucking mole, but Techie liked his nest between the tall servers. There was nothing wrong with a mole having a nest.

If he really needed to, there was a very slender path up at the head of the nest that he could use to get away. But he never used that when Ma-Ma wanted to haul him out of his nest by the feet. He didn't want to betray that the path existed, because then she would take it away.

Mitaka had taken away most of his clothes. The only thing he'd been allowed to keep was the shirt Ma-Ma had given him.

He picked up his old shirt again, bringing it to his face and smelling it.

Mitaka was asleep and Techie should sleep too, while he could. But he couldn't sleep on this big, flat, clean bed.

He might be able to sleep at the bottom of the closet, though.

Techie took one of the pillows from the bed and laid it down in the base of the closet, underneath the hanging uniforms. There was just barely enough space for him if he curled up tight.

It wasn't as good as his nest between the servers on Peach Trees, because he couldn't stretch out. But it felt much more secure than the bed.

If Mitaka came into the room in the middle of the night to do something to him, he wouldn't find anyone right away. Techie would be safe for a few moments — long enough to notice what was happening and wake up. Long enough to make a plan.

I really thought he was going to do it in the shower, Techie thought, lying down on his right side this time. He was clutching his old shirt in one hand and his datapad in the other and staring at the door. His eyes were feeling heavier. Now that he was in a somewhat more secure location, he might even be able to sleep.

Why hadn't Mitaka done what he was going to do in the shower? At least then it would be over with. Techie would know the rules. He would know what Mitaka wanted.

But as things were, he didn't know what exactly was going to happen, or when it was going to happen, and that was unsettling.

He touched me on the shuttle, Techie thought with a shudder. And another few times, too. He wanted to come into the shower with me. He washed me. He washed my ass for, like, way longer than was normal. He was looking at me.

The sooner Mitaka stopped pretending that he was some sort of — nice guy, or hero — the sooner Techie would like it.

Did I do it wrong? Techie wondered, vaguely hurt. Did I stick my butt out too much? Maybe I wasn't supposed to stick it out. Maybe he wanted me to put up a fight.

Sometimes, Ma-Ma had wanted him to put up a fight; she had made him fight her. She would goad him and torment him, hurting him, laughing at him, until he finally broke and cried and screamed at her, or even tried to hurt her, or get away. Then she would punish him for insubordination. Maybe that was what Mitaka was going to do, too.

But he seems so kind, part of Techie volunteered. He seems like he really wants to help us.

Shut up, the smarter part of Techie told himself. Don't be a fucking idiot.

He couldn't listen to that part of himself. It was stupid and foolish, and would only get him into trouble. That was the part that always made him hope that this time, this time, things would finally be different. But things were never, ever different, and they never, ever would be.

Maybe I was too dirty to want, a third part of Techie chimed in. Mitaka really cares about keeping everything clean. He was angry when I wiped my nose on the robe. I had bugs in my hair. No wonder he didn't want to have sex with me.

Maybe it was just because he'd been so dirty. Maybe once Mitaka decided that he was clean enough, well-fed enough, it would happen.

They lived by a Code here — their Code of Conduct. Mitaka had talked about it, and Techie had started to read through it, but then he had gone back to watching Ma-Ma die again. But maybe he should read through the Code and memorize it. Maybe it would be helpful.

Maybe he could quote their own Code back to them when they inevitably started to take what they wanted from him, not caring at all if it hurt him.

And they would do that, either sooner or later. The First Order was strong, and right now he was weak.

Techie knew one thing about the universe for sure, and that was that no one strong, no one, gives away something to the weak for nothing.

Someone was shaking his shoulder.

"Techie. Techie. Wake up."

Techie came back to himself with a huge, panicked gasp, flinching back and bringing up his hands to shield his face as best he could.

"It's all right," Lieutenant Mitaka's voice said. "Just waking you. We have a big day ahead of us, so let's get started!"

Techie cautiously lowered his hands. Mitaka was squatting in front of the closet, both heels flat on the ground. His head was cocked to one side.

He didn't look angry, which was good.

"I'm sorry," Techie blurted out. "I didn't sleep in the bed."

"That's all right," Mitaka said. His words were coming out a bit more slowly than usual. "Was the floor of my closet more comfortable?"

"Yes," Techie admitted, then held his breath to see what Mitaka would do.

Somewhat surprisingly, Mitaka didn't do anything except stand up.

"Well, if you really want to sleep there, that's fine, I suppose," he said. "But it can't be comfortable for you. What's wrong with the bed?"

"Nothing, sir," Techie said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, to imply that your bed isn't great, it's very great, it's very soft and comfortable. But I'm, I'm used to sleeping in smaller places. I'm sorry."

Mitaka pursed his lips and frowned a little bit.

"I have some ideas about that. For now, though, let's get some breakfast into you. Then I'm going to give you a brief overview of the ship we're on. And then we'll visit our medical bay to give you a thorough check-up. Finally, we'll book you into the shipwide security system. That way we'll always know where you are!"

Techie stared up at him from the closet floor. They were going to chip him.

Ma-Ma had always joked about chipping him. 'That way, if you run off like the bitch you are, I'll always be able to find you and bring you back,' she'd said.

"All right?" Mitaka asked. He clearly wanted Techie to get off the closet floor.

Techie nodded slightly. If they were going to insert a chip into him, well, there wasn't anything he could do to prevent it. Ma-Ma had done things to him and there hadn't been anything to be done about that, either.

Techie cautiously extracted himself from the floor of the closet and stood up. He was quite a bit taller than Mitaka, but Mitaka was clearly in charge here. His shrewd brown eyes were looking Techie up and down, evaluating every part of him.

Maybe this is when it will happen. The bed is right there and no one else is around, Techie thought, and the idea was terrifying. He could feel his heartbeat kick so hard he almost fell over, and had to reach out to steady himself against the wall.

He couldn't tell what he was more scared of — the First Order inserting a chip into him, or Mitaka inserting something else into him. Both of them would definitely hurt.

Mitaka was staring at his forehead and frowning. "What's that on your forehead?"

"My forehead?" Techie echoed, reaching up. Was there something stuck on there? Maybe another dead bug?

"Is something — is something written on you?" Mitaka asked, seemingly outraged. He was staring at Techie's tattoo.

"Oh, that," Techie said. "That's been there for a long time. Ma-Ma put it there."

Mitaka was frowning more thunderously. For such a short, compact man, he had a terrifyingly large presence, especially when he disapproved of something.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice this yesterday." Mitaka made a strange face; it seemed like he was upset.

"Oh," Techie said, searching Mitaka's face. Was he angry at Techie for not disclosing that he had a word written on his face? For having stringy, dirty hair that obscured it before? Or was he angry at himself for not noticing?

"What does it say? Here, bend down."

Techie obediently lowered his head so Mitaka could look at his forehead more closely. He hadn't owned any mirrors back at Peach Trees, so he hadn't seen the word on his forehead for a long time, up until yesterday. Truth be told, he'd almost forgotten it was there. And yesterday he'd been too terrified of everything in the refresher unit, and of what Mitaka might do to him, to have caught more than a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

"Male?" Mitaka asked, frowning up at Techie's forehead.

"Mole," Techie corrected.

"Mole? As in — what, an animal?"

"As in a spy."

"What?"

Mitaka sounded outraged again. He sounded that way a lot. It made Techie nervous. How was he supposed to make things all right if he didn't know what made Mitaka angry or how to make him not be angry anymore?

"I was sent into Peach Trees by a rival organization," Techie said. "I was supposed to, to infiltrate it. Them. And report back."

Mitaka was still staring up at him with his full attention, so Techie licked his lips to continue.

"It was a very long time ago. Ma-Ma found me. She decided to — keep me. She said I could be useful to her, maybe. But she put that on my forehead so everyone would know what I was. I don't know why she used that word. She could have used 'SPY.' That would have been a letter shorter." Techie shrugged. "Maybe she wanted a longer word."

Mitaka's face was very close to his. He seemed to be almost vibrating with some sort of suppressed emotion.

He really is very handsome, Techie noticed. Ma-Ma's eyes had been green, like a cat, or a snake. She had been tall and rangy, fast, like a bird of prey. In contrast, Mitaka was short and compact. He seemed to deliberate before he moved. And he had big brown eyes, which were currently trained on Techie's forehead.

Everything about him was different from Ma-Ma.

Maybe he'll be a different kind of master from Ma-Ma, part of Techie volunteered. Maybe he'll be nice.

Mitaka reached up, then hovered his hand at the side of Techie's face. "May I touch it?"

Mitaka had touched him several times yesterday, including washing his whole head and most of his body. But he'd been so out of it, so panicky that he'd barely noticed.

This felt different. This was Mitaka asking if he could touch before he did, and then waiting until he got an answer.

"All right," Techie agreed. It's not as though he could really stop him. They were going to insert a chip into his brain later today. A little forehead touching was nothing.

Maybe if I can get used to him touching me now, what happens later won't be so bad.

The thought gave Techie fortitude as Mitaka brushed over the word on his forehead with his thumb.

"Does that hurt?"

"N-no," Techie said, hating himself for how his voice wavered.

Mitaka's thumb brushed over the word again, and it was so gentle that it sent a strange bolt of sensation from Techie's forehead down through his spine to his belly, where it swirled around and around. He suddenly felt light-headed, like when the shuttle had lifted off from the rooftop of Peach Trees just before the First Order collapsed the building.

"Good," Mitaka said, withdrawing his hand. "I'm glad it doesn't hurt. If you'd like, I'm sure we can have it removed."

Techie swallowed, and refocused his eyes on Mitaka's hand. Now that it was gone, he missed it.

When was the last time someone had touched him gently, without an order or an expectation behind it?

Techie hated himself. Because as he followed Mitaka out of the bedroom to start his first full day in the First Order, all he could think of was how he could make it happen again.