Hi guys! It's been AGES since I posted, like, anything. I've been writing and playing music as my primary creative outlet (check out facebook clearlyguilty), but since The Last Jedi came out into theaters... I couldn't keep to myself. My time to write is still pretty limited, but I couldn't keep this one down. I have the first five chapters written and I have a healthy start into chapter six, but I will be editing and posting over the next few days, and as I have a concise ending for this tale I plan to see it all the way through.

This all got started while reading about the new films on reddit a bit. I've seen a lot of hate about the Canto Bight scenes, about how they're generally considered a waste of time, film, and space. Personally, I thought they were very important, and made for a very interesting allegory with regards to the current political atmosphere in our own time and galaxy. It made their war and their struggles suddenly very relatable. But I saw one reddit poster posit something far more literal and I found it rather compelling - what if they were THE most important scenes in the whole saga? What if we're duped into believing we're going into Episode IX with Kylo Ren as the main antagonist when the true evil is something far more insidious. What if it's simply... the First Order itself? Like, the very concept behind it? What if the real evil here is the military industrial complex and the greed that drives it, sending hapless innocents to their dooms, and this is the base impetus that stoked the fires of war again after thirty years of peace? Of course, we know Star Wars is just a fantasy - just a fairy tale - so seeing very cerebral, adult concepts like these flying over the heads of our kids is not something that's going to ever happen in your ordinary, average small town movie theater. I assure you as well, that poor unfortunate redditor was promptly poo-pooed for the very idea, in spite of the merit I felt it held.

But that's what fan fic is for. So, I give you The Machine (named, of course, from the dialogue in the Canto Bight scenes themselves).

The Machine Ch 1: Destruction and Profit

General Hux seated himself at the head of the long board room table, facing the parade of military personnel and advisory staff that filed in behind him. There was a quiet yet purposeful rustle of leather and cloth as they took their seats and accessed the datapads in front of them. It was a simple budget, and this was a simple meeting. Wars required budgets and meetings. He used to plan them at Snoke's insistence, and never without his presence. They had typically been conducted in Kylo Ren's absence, the young apprentice more involved in training than day-to-day logistics. Hux now conducted them in Supreme Leader Ren's ignorance. It was for the good of all involved. The last thing anyone needed was an embarrassing tantrum that resulted in the table being sliced in half by a red hot laser blade... or stars forbid someone force-choked and tossed out an airlock. There was no reason some measure of civility couldn't be afforded even the grim business of war.

Hux allowed himself a small, indulgent moment of calm as he ran his hand along the surface of the table, savoring the feel of the velvety black lacquer coating the expensive wood finish. In contrast to the sweat that beaded at his stiffly starched collar the surface was cool, even through the fabric of his fine, sleen-hide glove. He sighed, uncomfortably aware of how his undershirt wetly stuck to the skin of his back. It wasn't particularly warm. It was that he now had to inform the shadowy cadre of unseen Trade Federation shareholders that Snoke - most recently their greatest and most reliable source of revenue - had been murdered by some... unknown scavenger girl. Or more likely Kylo Ren, his own protege. Hux was only one generation of a long and respected military family. He was hardly naive about how the dark side of the Force worked. It didn't matter - either way, the wrench had been thrown in the works, and the conversation was still going to be the same. Resigned to get down to business, he fired up the screen of his own datapad, and then the holoprojector in the center of the table sprung to life.

Immediately they were greeted by the familiar form of a sallow, sunken-cheeked young man in a nondescript suit. The man had no name, and was only known as the Representative, speaking for the broad, looming, toad-faced expanse of a Hutt lounging on an opulent dais behind him. Jantho the Hutt's moist eyes and skin gleamed faintly in the low light, and his chins were set to quiver as the maw of his face split open and spewed forth his booming speech.

Jantho knew Hux understood some Huttese. Hux also knew Jantho spoke common. But doing so would no longer necessitate the hedonistic display of dressing up a beleaguered slave in a suit to translate the transactions and details and minutia that likely resulted in the destruction of his own homeworld... and many others. Moments after Jantho started speaking, the Representative - sullen, vacant, and monotone - began to convey the message.

"His excellency, Jantho of the Three Families, bids you good morning," he said. As time in space was relative, and the newly crowned Vindicator was still hovering in empty space not far from where she launched, it seemed only polite to defer to the Hutt's point of view. "We trust that you are enjoying Kuat-Entralla's finest, and that you received the invoice." He was referring to the Vindicator herself - their new flagship dreadnought, requisitioned and outfitted some months ago to replace the ill-fated Supremacy.

"The craftsmanship is exquisite, but of course we expected nothing less," Hux answered, gently stroking the table as a gesture. The words were formal, but not hollow. Kuat-Entralla was renowned throughout the quadrant for quality. They were also just as well known as being one more in a series of different engineering and manufacturing firms owned either outright by the Hutt Cartel, or by some other equally amorphous shareholder that comprised the old Trade Federation of legend.

"Splendid," Jantho replied. "To commemorate her auspicious launch, I'll be sure to have one of my bookkeeping staff send a bottle of - "

The Representative gave an uncharacteristic jerk of the head, indicating surprise. Jantho had changed the subject mid-sentence. Hux knew where this was headed. He supressed an icy chill automatically, out of reflex. Countless times he'd bodily prepared himself to have some appendage crushed by an unseen force, or to have his face smashed against a wall or a floor, even one time a ceiling. Although he knew this would be different, it didn't mean that there weren't various types of absolute power... and that they were all equally terrifying.

"Where... is Snoke?"

Jantho's question hung heavy in the air. Hux wetted his lips and blinked rapidly. Change was risk. Finance abhorred risk.

"I apologize, your excellency, I should have informed you immediately, it's just that we were indispo-"

"Informed me of what?" The Huttese behind the Representative's mewling speech echoed throughout the room.

"It would appear, my lord, that Supreme Leader Snoke has been... murdered."

"Yesss..." Jantho hissed in heavily accented common behind his slave. The Representative remained silent and merely bowed his head. "Eeet woooould appearrrr sooooo. Whoooo hasssss replayyyy-suhd heem at yoourrr helmm?"

Hux, a soldier first and a man of principals and ideals, squared his shoulders and straightened his spine.

"Kylo Ren," he answered.

Hux had suffered much abuse at the hands of power in his life but had survived it. He was no coward. He was ready to face the consequences. Which was what made the Hutt's monstrous, thunderous laughter so surprising.

"Han Solo's whelp?! Chaos!" the Representative had raised his head and continued as the form of Jantho behind him jiggled and shook. "Complete chaos! I love the sound of the word! Do you know what chaos is, General Hux?"

There were a million ways Hux wanted to answer that question, but none of them would have been appropriate. And he'd already heard the answer before. It would be one of the usual four diatribes. But sometimes it was best with powerful people to just drum your fingers on the table and patiently wait out the usual assault of sage, wistful nonsense.

"No, my lord." He folded his hands behind his back, instead.

"Chaos," the Representative answered, "is a machine." Oh yes, this one again. The Machiiiine. Everything was a machine: war was a machine, economics was a machine, machines were a machine. Hux settled in for the wait. "Force users, they're so arrogant, they think this is all about them. Their light side, their dark side... their prophecy... But men like us, General Hux," Hux wasn't sure he was comfortable with the comparison, "men like us know better. They are one wheel, yes - one that sets the others into motion. Into war! But chaos is a steamroller that crushes its way forward. Turning over and over in a cycle between destruction and profit. How many decades of peace... PAH! Who makes money off of peace? Landowners? Politicians? Drug lords and spice traders? Where was the military industrial complex? Where were you, General Hux?"

"Well, sir, I was only-"

"Where were your generals? Licking the wounds of your leaders' regrettable and... expensive Imperial defeat? Until we came along and bought you like the chattel you are. Snoke was an advantageous investment, but Kylo Ren..." Jantho barked one laugh before his scaly tongue darted out and slathered a slimy sheen across his wormy lips. "Hell hath no fury like a child scorned. He is far too capricious to follow his grandfather's footsteps. He wishes to burn everything in his path. Let us see how he serves. We shall watch and... reserve judgment. Now, General Hux, you will tell me of your plan to pay for your newfound debt. Delight me with your plan for further conquest!"

Hux nodded once, and was grateful to the Makers above to be able to move on into safer, more well-rehearsed territory. Even as the words tumbled from his mouth, and the pads on the table filled the air with hums and beeps, he knew he was facing another sleepless night. He was a pawn, crushed between a rock and a hard place - between the Force and an endlessly insatiable cycle of greed. If he played his cards right, though, he could end up with more than simply being allowed to survive. He could end up with power himself. But the Hutt was right about Ren - the boy was as unpredictable as he was a menace. There was no limit to the potential for utter annihilation through his famous wanton mania. The problem was that his sword swung both ways, and ashes were still ashes regardless of what side they landed on... and Hux wasn't entirely keen on being the king of a pile of ashes. And Ren wanted to see everything burn.

Hux decided he would make use of his insomnia, then. He would begin to make his contingency plans. All he had to do was be careful. And patient.