A/N: I would like to thank my first ever Beta reader erindarroch; a goddess of patience, wisdom, and master of fanfic. I claim any mistakes as mine.

A/N: I don't own any of this. We're playing with Disney's action figures in their sandbox (snowdrift?). Disney lets me share the story with you as long as we don't get paid for it. So let's keep our voices hushed and enjoy the show.

Inspired by TFA cut scene "Kylo Searches the Falcon". IMHO, they should have kept the scene. It's a simple but powerful performance by Adam Driver that gives some real emotional currency to the conflict raging within Kylo, and makes his later actions that much more tragic. I wrote this to reconcile some of the issues with TFA in my head. [ writing-as-therapy ]

This was meant to be the third chapter in the drabbles collection called "The Falcon," as it has the ship's sentient perspective on events. Since this was ten times the size of the individual works already in there, I opted to post it on its own.

Warning: Includes mentions of torture, miscarriage, gambling, alcohol, tobacco, etc.

Timeline: Star Wars VII - the Force Awakens; within canon (including Bloodline and Aftermath: Life Debt) ...more or less.

Soul Searching

Chapter One – Final Flight and the First Order

The Millennium Falcon had settled in at an angle, the saucer shaped starship's portside brushing the edge of the icy precipice. A thirty metre swath gouged in the surface of the glacier, marking the trail to the crashed freighter's location. Beyond that was an equally broad miles-long path she had shaved through the snow encrusted coniferous forest beyond. Branches tangled in the base supports of her sensor array, needled twigs and snow covered her mandible accesses. She was nearly buried, her landing struts had not deployed, and the snow piled in around hatches and windows. The old ship settled and groaned, more boulders tumbling off the supporting cliiffside underneath. Corellian alloy bulkheads strained against their bolts and welds, the impact of her near lightspeed landing approach having tested her far beyond what she had been designed for, but not even close to what she had been so lovingly built for. It was not her first crash landing, nor would it be her last.

The Falcon had arrived near Starkiller Base's operations belt, just out of traditional sensor range with three beings in her hold: the Captain, the Wookiee, and Big Deal. After a series of the usual arguments and a quick supply check, the three organic beings had exited the Falcon's hold through the portside dorsal hatch, on their way to destroy yet another superweapon, at least the third such task the Falcon had participated in since meeting Captain Solo nearly forty years prior. Her hull shifted again, a deep shudder rumbled through her frame, at which point the Captain turned back to his ship, an expression of concern crossing his weathered features. Han Solo took a few steps forward, snow crunching beneath his boots. The wookiee Chewbacca and Big Deal paused, respectfully observing the interaction between the legendary pilot and his ship. Han's silver mane tossed wildly in the wind, a gloved hand reached up to flick at a stray lock that had stuck to his lashes, his glittering green-gold hazel eyes rheumy. Reverently, Han reached out to the lower edge of the semicircular cockpit window half buried in the snow, brushing off blocks of ice with his hand. The smuggler's action gentle, deliberate, and thoughtful.

"I know," whispered the old pilot.

Giving the ancient starship's viewport one last swipe at the frost, Han spun on his heel. He marched towards his co-pilot, pausing to lock eyes momentarily with Chewbacca and then stoically hiked past his companions to lead them into the blizzard. The ship's external visual sensors recorded their silhouettes as the trio vanished into the sparkling whiteness.

Within the hour after her crew's departure, the Millennium Falcon's security monitors fired up. Alerts flickered across her consoles, warning of potential hostiles outside of the Falcon's empty hull. Overhead, two TIE fighters hovered, one at the bow, the other at the Falcon's stern, the low howl of their ion engines echoing across the ice sheet. The Falcon had been left at low power, just enough energy in her system to run security countermeasures and her main computers. She could avoid most rudimentary energy sensors at this level, but her crash site could not be disguised visually. The TIE's remained on sentry as a rectangular First Order troop transport approached from the east. The transport ship settled opposite her starboard side on the snow swept path the Falcon's occupants had trod, burying the hastily concealed footsteps beneath an icy flurry of downwash. A ramp dropped, the white thermal boots of snowtroopers stomped down into the snow, the half dozen soldiers lining up in formation at the base of the transport's ramp. A pair of troopers followed bearing a repulsorcart of sensory equipment. They were followed by a thin-lipped officer in a dark grey uniform who strode the ramp with an imperious air.

"I want every part of this ship checked!" The aquiline featured man snapped at the two troopers. He made a quick motion with his fingers and the scanner detail hustled off to inspect Starkiller's unwelcomed visitor. Remaining a moment, his eyes studying the battered freighter, he ensured the troopers went about their duties, then shivered visibly, retreating into the heated confines of the transport.

The Falcon, her systems preprogrammed to identify specific threats, was well aware of the allegiance of the surrounding organics signatures. The ship languidly amused herself with the scanning team. She refused to cycle the dorsal hatch, even when confronted with a high-level lock-code slicer. When the team resorted to spreaders and pry bars, she responded with an electrical pulse that rippled lightning over her hull, stunning the men unconscious. Another crew bearing cutting torches approached with insulated boots and were nearly thrown to their deaths into the valley below when she shook them off with an inverted repulsor thrust. The final crew warily lumbered up to the hatch, armed with insulated magnetic boots and a repulsor field dampener. As they planted detonator charges around her access, the round aperture mysteriously spiraled open, revealing a dimly lit elevator pad.

At this point her logic circuits lit up indignant, and she shunted their objections to the ponderous personality of her apathetic transport computer.

[Shut up,] after all; she did have her self-preservation protocols. It would not do for the Wookiee and the Captain to return to an open blast crater for a top hatch.

The wily old Corellian freighter waited as the First Order crew took their time. Judiciously scanning the YT-1300, the troops searched for potential explosives or traps to catch unwary visitors. The rough landing had dislodged numerous item in the ship's holds. The troopers methodically sifted through the chaos of items ranging from professional grade hydrospanner toolsets, a sodden Whyren's box full of children's' comic flimsies, to a locker jammed with antique blasters and even slug throwers.

A slicer droid, an immobile sleek red anodized cube of virulent programming was brought in with the intention to download logs and navigational data. The troopers plugged the invasive mechanical in to the Falcon's engineering station's scomp terminal, only to have the droid light up with electrical discharge, its electronic shriek reverberating around the corridors as it overloaded. The hapless mechanical cursing vehemently in binary at the inwardly smirking ship's computer. The Falcon replied gleefully with an acidic Corellian expletive-laced binary taunt.

The Millennium Falcon gamely tolerated the presence of the snowtroopers who scoured her corridors, the men struggling to balance themselves on her durasteel decking against the odd angle she had settled at in the snow. They scrambled over upended cargo crates and toolboxes thrown across the corridors by the rough landing, carefully scanning for sabotage. They would find little if anything. The Falcon had languished on an Outer Rim graveyard for years until just a few days' prior, nothing of note onboard would have remained among the sand and scavengers of Jakku. A timepart later, the searching troopers indicated a lack of success.

Satisfied, a trooper in the hold's common area spoke into a comlink. His voice was crisp as the wind that whipped across the glacier.

"Ship is clear."

Outside, a sleek ebony shuttle descended next to the troop transport. Its elongated upright wingpanels scissored, and retracted along their length as the shuttle dropped gently to the glacier surface to rest on its landing pads. Amidst a hissing cloud of the landing jets' vapor, the ramp lowered to allow a tall midnight-cloaked, masked man to descend. His gloved fist clenched at his side, his entire posture tense, readied. The menace rolled out from him in a wave of unease among the assembled First Order soldiers. Men shuffled and muttered uneasily. The leading snowtrooper sentry stepped up and saluted the imposing figure.

"Ship is clear, sir" the snowtrooper's voice wavered slightly. She sincerely hoped it was clear, the man known as Kylo Ren was known to have quite the temper. Rumor had spread of a prisoner's escape from an interrogation facility earlier in the day, the result being the utter destruction of the chamber by the lightsaber of the man she faced.

"Logs?" The soulless black lenses of the Knight of Ren's black and chrome mask bored into hers. The trooper stiffened, clutching her blaster to her plastron a little tighter. Kylo Ren took a half step forward, easily towering over the trooper. His tone became demanding, "Logs, maps, navigational data, security footage?"

"Sir, the slicer droid was rendered inoperable by an unexpected countermeasure. We are awaiting a repla-" she rambled, trying not to quail. Kylo growled, pushing past the nervous trooper. She had nearly relaxed when he whirled around.

"Have you found tracks? Heat signatures? Anything?" Ren's tone indicated his exasperation. If the First Order was to be a successor to the Galactic Empire, they had to at least try to be more thorough, more attentive, to just…be… smarter.

"Uh, w- we called in for a scouting team." The trooper stammered. Her knees were quivering nearly as badly as her voice.

Kylo Ren paused for a lengthy moment, perhaps waiting for more information. When no further info was forthcoming, he seemed to roll his eyes beneath his mask, the gesture broadcast by the frustrated roll of his chrome-masked head. The tall black clad knight proceeded to stride through the footprint packed snow to the dorsal hatch. The trooper at the top of the ship gave Ren a crisp salute and took a few steps back, allowing the dark knight access. Ren grunted recognition and stepped onto the elevator pad and reluctantly lowered himself into the old smuggling ship.