Your stomach was churning as you walked to work.

Being stationed at Starkiller Base was supposed to have been one of the biggest achievements of your career. Here you were, a fledgling engineer, already a few months in at your assignment to operate within the elite fleets of the First Order. Of course, you felt pride, but there was another feeling that was burrowing into the back of your skull.

Fear.

What if you failed? What if their promotion had been in error? After all, you'd only been out of your training for a little over a year, and most engineers your age were still stuck working on the endless supply of basic TIE fighters docked on Star Destroyers. Maybe you should have been with them. Only one other engineer in your cohort—Sam—had come with you to Starkiller.

Sam caught you at the end of the corridor, fingers grazing your shoulder. You spun around, blood biting at your cheeks as you met his sky blue eyes and gleaming smile. Though you had lived in the shadow made by his success as an engineer, you had thought he was hot since--well, forever.

"Hey! I haven't seen you in over a week!" he said. Genuine crinkles of joy were at the corners of his eyes.

"Hey," you said, wanting to seem calm despite the spark igniting between your legs. "Guess I've just been busy."

Sam's stride fell to your pace, eyebrow raising. "Busy, huh?"

Dread crept down your spine. There was another reason fear dominated your days at work. "Yeah. You know. Another Command Shuttle emergency." You narrowed your eyes at him.

He exposed his teeth with a wide grin. "Not my fault. Should have been quicker with your blaster!"

You rolled your eyes. "Your idea was rigged from the start. You'd knew I'd lose your little fake shoot-out and get saddled with the stupid shuttle." How many times had Sam started off his shift with the smell of crackling communication boards?

"That's how the chips fall," Sam replied with a smirk.

Blushing against your will, you smiled back. "Uh huh."

"So..." Sam said.

"Before you ask, no," you said, frowning. "I've never seen him. And I wanna keep it that way, okay?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "What? No way! You don't want to see him, just once?"

You were tired of the conversation already. "If you want to see him so badly, you can trade assignments with me," you said, beaming at him.

He laughed out loud. "No way. I've heard he can read thoughts. I wouldn't want him catching mine."

Your stomach twisted in another knot. "Then you can understand why I'd prefer him to stay as far away from me as possible."

Sam laughed again and patted your shoulder, causing electricity to shoot through your body. "You're so funny," he said. He pointed to the next turn as he pulled away from you. "Here's my stop. We'll talk later. Good luck today, okay?"

You rolled your eyes again. "See ya." You watched him walk down the hall, noticing how good his butt looked in his pants, and bit your lip. As you made the last leg of your journey towards the docking bay, your mind turned back to the ever-growing anxiety in your chest. The idea of having your mind read brought you unease.

The stress of working on the Command Shuttle was as burdensome as it was irritating. Not only were you expected to keep the auxiliary and main thrusters in pristine condition, but more than once you ended up surveying an inordinate amount of damage caused to the interior panels or seats. The budget that the Chief Engineer had estimated—based off of last year's totals—was looking thin.

Today's present came in the form of deep slashes melted into the archway of the cockpit entry. You ran your fingers along the waves of curling metal, noting that the saber strokes had managed stay within the frame of the entrance. It'd be a simple replacement, and coordinating it wouldn't take up most of your day--so you might even get to inspect the plasma cannon that you heard whining the day before.

You walked off of the ship and began jotting details into the diagnostics terminal built into the wall. As you finished up your notes, your errant mind cursed your Commander. If it weren't for his abominable temper, maybe your skills might be recognized for more than clean-up.

Bitterness hit your tongue as you thought about Sam receiving constant accolades for his work, while you trailed behind with a garbage can, collecting broken machinery. A buzzing energy was picking up around you, the distant, powerful chorus of stomping boots barely registering in your ears. They were here. Phasma, Hux, and--

Heart racing, you turned on your heel, wanting to find something, anything to make yourself busy. Any sense of courage you thought you had was lost as you scurried onto the Command Shuttle, hoping that it was a walk-through and not an investigation. Unless it was an emergency, they wouldn't be taking off in a damaged ship.

Deciding to entertain yourself with the cockpit, you sat down in one of the chairs and ran your hand across the panels of buttons and controls. You knew almost everything about how ships worked--but the Command Shuttle was a fascinating subject--it was an entirely new tier of quality.

It was too bad that its craftsmanship was so frequently being revised by the tantrums of a grown man. You wondered how anybody tolerated him. You certainly couldn't, and you didn't even know him.

"Jackass," you huffed.

A sharp ringing ripped through your brain, a massive pressure building between your ears It was there and gone, followed by the sound of heavy steps onto the rampway into the ship. Your heartbeat picked up again, and you sprung from the cockpit chair and pretended to be inspecting the damage to the entrance again, though there wasn't much left to see. The footsteps grew louder, more urgent, and beads of sweat grew on along your hairline.

As if you had skipped through time, they stopped, behind you, and you knew that it was him. It felt like a thousand eyes were boring into your skull. You swallowed the boulder-sized lump within your throat and turned to face him, not sure what to expect. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of him.

He was huge--much, much taller than you, covered completely in black robes--even his hands were encased in leather gloves. His face was obscured by the chrome and carbon helmet that you had heard so much about, and the rumors were true--it was way scarier in person. In fact, hewas way scarier in person.

"Kylo Ren," you said, like an absolute idiot. You snapped up straight. "I mean, excuse me, Commander."

"You're not excused," he replied, his deep, synthetic voice pinging off the empty walls of the ship.

You felt your heart stop in your chest and you sucked in ten lungfuls worth of air. "I'm sorry?"

He took a step toward you, and you stepped back, your shoulders connecting with the frame you had supposedly been inspecting. "Mind sharing with me your theories of how people--what was it--tolerate me?" Even through the mask, his words were dripping with derision.

"How people--uh--I mean," you said, words garbling in the realization that he had been reading your thoughts. The ringing had been him--he knew how much you resented him, how much you feared him. Your cheeks flooded with color.

Kylo Ren took another step toward you, his tall, black boots echoing the pounding of your own heart. Your eyes scanned his body, and you felt an energy radiating from him so thick it was nearly tangible. It was a tense, furious urgency, full of power.

"That's an interesting way of putting it," he said. "I have another idea, though."

You were trembling. "Yes sir, Commander." The words felt like paper in your dry mouth.

He moved closer still, and now his chest was inches from your face. A gloved hand pounded the wall next to your head, denting the metal. Your knees almost crumbled in fear. "Remember who it is that you work for." He paused, seemingly examining your wide, terrified eyes. But who knew, for sure? Behind the helmet, he was imperceptible. "You are expendable. Understood?"

Your swallowed again and nodded. "Yes, sir."

A moment passed--you weren't sure if was minutes or seconds--and he withdraw his hand from the wall. He turned away from you. "Make sure you fix that, too." You were a statue as he stalked off the ship, waiting until you heard the final footstep on the ramp before you dared to let a breath leave your chest.

"Ugh," was all you could manage to say. You wanted to complain, but at this point, you didn't even feel safe in your own mind. What was it about you that made him single you out? You were sure you couldn't have been the only one to think unsavory thoughts about Kylo Ren. He couldn't be that sensitive.

You turned your attention to the dimple he had left next to your head. Another simple repair, but your eye twitched knowing it was made just for you. You couldn't decide who you were more irritated with--Ren for causing the damage, or yourself for antagonizing him.

The rest of the day passed with little interruption, and you had managed to coordinate for the repair to be completed tomorrow. You heard from one of the Stormtroopers as they passed that Hux had been pleased with the walk-through.

A sigh fell out of your chest. Of course the area that Sam worked in was perfection. Meanwhile, you had your life threatened by the Commander--you stopped your thought mid-complaint. You weren't sure how far the radius of his power extended, but safe was better than sorry.

The thought of making food yourself made your shoulders slump into the floor. You made your way to the mess hall--it was mostly empty, though you'd only gotten off an hour late. Engineers worked long hours anyway. You ignored the trays and grabbed one of the nutrient-laden concoctions left out on the line. The balls of green jelly wiggled at you as you set it on the table.

Stress rolled off your back as you sat down and bit into the food. It didn't taste particularly good--almost nothing did on Starkiller--but you needed this time alone to recharge. You couldn't stop thinking about Kylo Ren, how tall he was, the way his voice sounded, the sheer weight of the power emanating from him. The influence he had was starting to make sense.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Sam passing by the entrance of the mess hall. Heart picking up, you wobbled your hand in what you intended to be a wave. He perked up and changed his direction, steering toward you now. Why did he have to be so damn chipper all the time?

"Hi, Sam," you said. "You look like you had a good day."

Sam sat across from you, face splitting in a smile. "It was! General Hux did a walk-through on my team's fleet and said he had never seen the ships in such condition. He commended me and everything!" His voice lowered. "I even saw him. Kylo Ren."

"Oh, really," you said, voice trailing off. You weren't sure why you even asked.

"Yes. He's even scarier in person," he said, leaning in closer. His voice was a hissing whisper. "He's so tall!"

"I know," you said. "I saw him too."

"Really?"

"Yep," you replied. You weren't sure you wanted to tell Sam everything that had happened. "He walked on the shuttle while I was working on it and... told me to fix stuff."

"Whoa," Sam said, blue eyes illuminated with curiosity. "You heard him talk?"

You nodded, shoving food into your mouth. You needed time to think about what to tell him. After you swallowed, you shrugged. "Yeah. He's a jerk."

Sam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Maybe he was feeling protective of his fellow engineer. "What happened?"

"Uh," you said. You thought of Kylo Ren's hand slamming into the wall next to your ear, how the quaking metal rocked your body, and his deep, altered voice. You became aware that by talking about this anymore, you were tempting him. "Don't really want to talk about it."

"Come on," Sam said, eyebrows knitting together. "You can tell me."

You looked down at your food. There were only a couple of bites left, but you had lost your appetite. "I'm gonna head back to my room. Have a good night," you said. You slid out of your seat and tossed the remnants of your meal in the garbage.

Arms folded across your chest, you marched back to your quarters, opened the lock, and smashed the button to close the sliding doors the second you passed over the threshold.

If only you had a sick day you could use.