"Castel." The sith says, his voice altered with his mask, as he feels a sudden sharp tug in the force, a presence he hasn't felt in a while. He doesn't know how she survived, but has no doubt that she did and that she is close. Turning sharply, he strides purposefully in the opposite direction he'd been headed.

"Ben." The woman whispers, gripping the flight stick tight as she feels the strong pull of her old friend's presence. She can feel his attention on her through the force and the connection they'd shared so long ago, and she knows she's successfully distracted him from the others.

"Focus on the lone x-wing. I want that ship captured and that pilot brought to me. Alive." The power in the sith's voice is clear and compelling, striking fear in the people of the bridge and forcing them to hurry and relay the message to the pilots.

"I hope I bought them enough time." The woman thinks as she's forced forward by a sharp jab in the back with the butt of one of the Storm Trooper's guns. She glares over her shoulder at the man, sending him flying with a wave of her bound hands, which of course gets several guns pointed at her face.

"Enough. I will take her." Ren's voice calls, echoing with the eerie sound of the mask. The padawan turns, hood still pulled over her head, hiding her face easily, and looks at the man who towers over her. He stares her down for a long moment as she returns the favor, unflinching, before he walks behind her.

"You are going to make this difficult." It's more of a statement than a question.

"Of course I am, Ben." She comments. "It would be a shame not to. I have always been stronger than you." She can feel his rage grow suddenly and he leans down, voice cool but carrying threat.

"Maybe once, but no longer." He senses she's about the retaliate and fight so he stops it before it happens. With a slight wave of his hand and a use of the force, the woman's consciousness disappears and he stoops down and lifts her into his arms, straightening in a single, fluid and graceful movement. He immediately strides through the station for the interrogation room-determined to figure out how she'd survived him and how she'd stayed hidden for so long. As he walks, he glances down at the unconscious woman that had been his friend at one point and sees that her hood had fallen from her head and he could easily see her face. She'd matured since he'd seen her last, and grown more beautiful, but the scar on her face, a scar she'd gotten when they spoke last, is what caught his attention most.

Striding into the interrogation room, he shuts the door and gently sets her into the chair, carefully strapping her in. When he's certain she's secure, he looks back up at her face and traces gloved fingers along the scar, watching the sensitive skin of her throat jump as the muscle underneath did in response to his touch.