“I’m fairly certain that I should have them both put down before they wake.”
Despite how confident he sounded about this, General Hux did not look inclined to perform any more murders on that particular day.
In the cramped cargo hold of the ship hurtling through light speed, he looked about as disposed to move as the other three passengers did. He, however, was the only completely uninjured one.
Any blood on his hands that day would be the blood of others, both physical and metaphorical.
His greatest complaint was how little room there was left now that he’d taken Kylo Ren along with the Resistance fighters he’d been grappling with.
He’d found them all, as good as dead, when he arrived. In a moment of foolishness, he collected two more strays than he’d been sent for, and took no time in regretting it.
“Is that an order, sir?” The only other passenger in the hold spoke, pausing in his duty.
It was a Stormtrooper who’d been assigned to perform some hasty treatment on the massive shoulder and facial injuries Kylo Ren was currently bleeding out from,
and though every ‘trooper was well versed in emergency first aid, this kind of injury was something altogether out of his scope of ability.
He’d probably have felt better shooting the lot of them right in their temple, than trying to save the man’s arm.
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