Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

17 ABY

It began long ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

The Galaxy was full of stories.

Light and darkness. Courage and cowardice. Hate, and above all, love. The stories and lives intersected with each other in a thousand thousand ways. Sometimes the players realized the connections. Often, they did not.

Here is a historical fact: The Jedi guarded the secret of identifying a Force sensitive child through their blood closely, even in the days of the old Republic. Even from officials of the Republic.

It was for practical reasons. Those strong in the Force were useful to those who wanted power, and children with the Force were vulnerable. Even with the secret kept, it was a struggle to retrieve Force sensitive younglings before pirates or slavers found them.

Here are some other facts: Order 66 killed every Jedi Healer who knew the secret of the blood test machines. Jocasta Nu destroyed the Jedi Archives, sending most of the copies of the data into oblivion. One official of the new Empire dug up a file on it while hunting down surviving Jedi, but Ahsoka Tano deleted it and destroyed the computer it was on, launching the remains into the nearest star.

By the time the Rebel Alliance became known to the Empire, the only file that even referred to the secret in the galaxy was on a mislabeled data stick on the Imperial records planet of Scarif. It was destroyed by Grand Moff Tarkin, test firing the first Death Star.

In short, for the First Order to identify one of the children they had stolen for their armies as a potential Sith or Jedi, they would have to find the child actually making something float.

Luckily for FN-2187, he was doing nothing of the sort. He was dreaming.

He dreamed of sand and snow and sun and wind on his face. He dreamed of fierce, hardy creatures and soft, gentle ones. He dreamed of forests and oceans and cities and solar flares.

He dreamed of the crystals scattered throughout the crust and mantle of Starkiller Base, once called Ilum. They sang. They wept.

He dreamed of the Force, though he’d never heard it named. His sleeping mind just knew—there were connections between planets and their stars, between plants and machines, between himself and the other sleeping cadets in the quarters. Between the Galaxy a whole and his own tiny body on his narrow bunk.

FN—2187 dreamed of wars, too, and death. He dreamed of the path a bolt took from blaster to unprotected chest. He dreamed of the last gasps for air before another soul became one with the Force.

And then the alarm blared, and FN-2187 sat up, grabbed his teenage-sized armor, and prepared for the day’s training.

When he remembered his dreams, he didn’t share them. The trainers didn’t want to hear anything but repetitions of their own lessons, and stormtrooper cadets weren’t encouraged to be friends.

But some mornings, he picked up his training blaster, and hesitated.

21 ABY

When the sound of shouting and blaster bolts faded, Luke still kept the trap door shut. When engines roared away, he still kept them shut.

A child sniffled.

“It’ll be okay, Cody,” Luke said in the darkness, holding tight to his lightsaber. He could just make out Grogu patting the boy’s head.

He hoped Hestia and Leia and Ben’s groups had made it to the ships or the shelters okay. But the Force whispered to him that things had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

They were still alive—most of them. That was something.

An hour after silence had fallen, Luke finally opened the door and climbed to the surface.

Desolation greeted him.

Smoke and dust filled the air. The walls he’d had so carefully built were nothing but mounds of rocks.

There were footprints in the dust. A child’s bare foot. A Stormtrooper’s boot. A half-buried tooka toy.

He picked it up, brushed off the dust. It looked like Pala’s.

Luke wished, oh how he wished he’d left the shelter to save more of his students—but the Force had screamed at him when he went to open the door. He knew better than to ignore a warning that clear.

“Stay inside,” he told the half dozen younglings behind him. “Grogu, watch them.”

He headed for the shipyard first. Where there ought to have been some seven transports, he found almost nothing intact. The freighter bus he used to carry students on field trips was in pieces. His old X-wing had a wing torn off.

The Millennium Falcon, he couldn’t find at all.

There was no one alive in the shipyard. Only the body of a small Wookie girl, hidden beneath the wreckage. Luke pulled Pala out and laid her down, covering her in his cloak. He set her tooka toy beside her.

Leia was close by. Luke looked up at the sound of limping footsteps. Artoo rolled beside her, giving her something to lean on.

It looked like Leia had been out of hiding for longer than Luke, as she was covered in dust. Except for the tear tracks.

“They took them,” she said. “Luke, they took your students. They took Ben. They took my son.”

25 ABY

Poe Dameron was in big, big trouble.

“Your orders,” Colonel Lyra said, “were to avoid confrontation.” The Zabrak’s face was set in a scowl. “Not to shoot down a First Order transport.”

“They fired first!” Poe snapped, before remembering himself. “Ma’am. They killed Zeta.”

She sighed at that. “I know. And that is going into my report, but the New Republic can’t afford another war, Dameron. The higher-ups will want to make this disappear.”

“The First Order’s just the Empire with a new coat of paint,” Poe said. “You said it yourself.”

Colonel Lyra rubbed the base of her horn. “Obviously, yes. But the politics… they’ve got allies in high places. I’ll do what I can to speak up for you. You fly too well to lose.” She waved towards the door. “You’re dismissed. I recommend you keep to your quarters while I sort this out.”

The base was quiet, even in the barracks. Poe checked his chrono. Of course it was quiet; it was past midnight on this part of Hosnian Prime. His sense of time was off from a week in the void.

Zeta’s girlfriend wouldn’t be awake for hours yet. Good. He still wasn’t sure what to say to her.

Starfighter pilots didn’t get graves. They got empty urns with their names etched on the sides, and empty caskets that would be reused at the next funeral.

The firefight danced behind his eyes while BB-8 beeped at him, while he peeled off his flight suit and ducked into the sonic shower. If he’d been faster to realize what was happening—

No. Poe hadn’t been in any serious battles yet himself, but he knew his parents’ stories from the Rebellion. The what-ifs and should-haves couldn’t do anything useful. He’d done his best; that was all he could do. He’d try to do better next time. In the meantime, he’d sleep.

It felt like he’d only just landed in his bunk when a buzz from the door woke him.

“‘M coming,” he called, pulling a shirt off the floor and over his head.

If he’d been more awake, he’d have checked the viewport before opening the door, or at the very least asked who it was. As it was, Poe hit the open command with sleep-smushed hair and one arm still wrestling with his sleeve, eyes squinting against the light.

There was a very famous Senator on the other side of the door. Poe managed not to squeak.

“General—Senator—sir,” he said, finally getting his arm through the sleeve and standing at attention. Did you salute senators? What about retired generals? He had no idea. He’d met the man before, but not since he was a child. “Hello. How can I help you?”

Han Solo smiled. “I’m here to help you, actually. Mind if I come in?”

Poe did mind a bit, if only because his quarters were much messier than regulation and definitely not fit for guests, but he wasn’t going to tell Han Solo no. “Sure.”

The room wasn’t much: just the bunk, a small closet with BB-8’s charging station, the sonic, and a narrow table with his laundry bin spilling out from beneath it. Poe leaned against the table, then stood up straight again. “I’m sorry, there’s nowhere to sit really—unless you want the bunk?”

Senator Solo waved it aside. “It’s fine. This won’t take long. Have a seat.”

“Okay.” Poe gingerly sat on his bunk, bracing to be told off.

“First, I want to say that you did exactly the right thing yesterday, and I’m sorry about your wingmate.”

Not a lecture. Poe blinked, almost forgetting the clothes still on the floor. “Thank you, sir.”

“Unfortunately, the First Order has been investing heavily in certain large manufacturing companies—companies that have then been lobbying with the New Republic. The politics are messy-“

“They shouldn’t be.”

Senator Solo frowned. “You think I don’t know that? They took my son. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

Poe winced. “Sorry.”

They still hadn’t convinced the New Republic that the First Order was behind the Jedi School raid. It was pretty obvious to Poe.

The Senator sighed before continuing. “The short version is that to keep the peace, some groups will insist that we condemn any actions like what you did yesterday.”

“Am I getting kicked out of the Navy?”

“Senator Chewbacca is working on it, so hopefully no. Leaving that aside. You’re a great pilot, kid. The head of the Flight Academy says you could probably outfly Luke Skywalker—and if anyone can make that comparison, it’s Wedge Antilles.”

Poe shifted. He had not heard Admiral Antilles make that comment.

The Senator smiled gently. “The Galaxy needs people like you, Dameron. You’re willing to do what’s right, and you have the skills to do it well. So, if Chewie doesn’t succeed, or if you decide you want to be allowed to actually fight the First Order, I want you to use this comm.”

Poe accepted the comm unit from him carefully. “Who does it call?” he asked, almost scared of the answer.

“My wife.”

Rey watched the stars spin overhead. Another mark on the wall, another day alone. Four standard years. “We’ll come back for you once it’s safe.”

She wondered how long she’d have to wait.

Chapter Text

Lor San Tekka beamed when Poe asked about Luke Skywalker.

“Without the Jedi, there can be no balance in the Force,” he said. “I understand after that unpleasantness at the last school why they’ve hidden themselves from the rest of us, but the Galaxy needs them. Do you think you can bring them back?”

“I think that’ll be up to them,” Poe said, trying not to squirm. “The General just wants to stop the First Order from finding them.”

“I’m always happy to help Her Highness.”

Poe smiled politely. “I’m sure she appreciates that.” The General hated to be called by her old title, except by Senator Solo.

San Tekka dug into a box in the back of his small dwelling, coming back with a data chip and a holoprojector.

“I’ve listed every known Jedi site in uncharted space,” he said, plugging the data chip in. “But ‘uncharted’ is a misnomer, really. The maps are merely incomplete. It makes it easy to get lost.”

The holoprojector switched on, and a swirling diagram of stars and planets came to life.

San Tekka pushed a button, and dozens of planets were highlighted. “These ones marked with yellow, they’re places I’ve visited since Master Skywalker left. I never saw evidence of a Jedi school there, but who knows? Perhaps Master Skywalker could tell I was coming and hid them all away.”

Poe’s heart sank. That was… too many possibilities.

“These ones in red, they’re places I haven’t been to. Most of them are too far away, or the navigation’s too dangerous. Traveling’s not as easy for me as it used to be. If you’re looking for the school, I’d start with the red ones.”

There were barely a dozen marked with red. “I just want to make sure the First Order doesn’t find them,” Poe said again.

Which meant this map absolutely couldn’t fall into their hands. He asked, “Is this the only copy of your data?”

“Yes, yes. I’m hardly broadcasting my travels across the holonet.”

“Can I take it?”

San Tekka hesitated, but before he could speak, BB-8 rolled inside, beeping urgently.

“We’ve got company,” Poe translated. “Mister San Tekka, please.”

Face paling, San Tekka ejected the data chip and handed it to him without another word.

“BB-8?”

His droid rolled closer and opened a compartment in its side. Poe slid the data chip into place.

“Evacuate the village,” he said, and they hurried outside.

They emerged just in time to see the Finalizer’s lander fire at the edge of the village. Where Poe’s X-wing was.

Kriffing hells.

Knowing what he had to do didn’t make Poe any more enthusiastic about doing it.

“Get away from here,” he told BB-8. “Stay hidden.”

His droid squealed in protest.

“They’ll send our squadron after us when we don’t report back. Catch up with them and get a ride home. Don’t tell anyone but the General what we found.”

BB-8 bumped against his leg.

“Don’t worry about me,” Poe said, forcing a smile. “I’ll keep them off your trail and then hide too.”

BB-8 clearly didn’t believe him, but it reluctantly turned and rolled towards the empty sands.

C-3PO had worked over BB-8’s programming when they started working with Black Squadron. Anyone trying to slice Poe’s droid would get several nasty surprises.

Not that most organics thought enough about droids to try. That was why 3PO’s operatives were so effective, and it should protect BB-8.

But it’d be more protected if the First Order never saw it in the first place.

Poe checked his blaster’s charge, and his second blaster’s, and his thermal detonator, and prepared to be the biggest damn distraction in the Galaxy.

*

FN-2187 wasn’t one of the first troopers off the lander, so he didn’t walk into the thermal detonator going off. The shockwave still made him stumble, though. His chest went cold.

Bodies lay scattered at the bottom of the ramp when his squad came out. More than a dozen troopers, some dead, some injured and yelling, all taken out of the fight.

The Resistance operative they were tracking was a grounded pilot. It was supposed to be an easy first mission.

This didn’t feel easy.

Zeroes and Nines took the lead. Slip and FN-2187 followed, but Slip fell against him.

It took FN-2187 a moment to realize Slip had been shot, that there was blood on his hand as he grabbed at FN-2187.

The cold in his chest intensified when Slip fell limp.

Hurry up!

FN-2187 ran after the remaining members of his squad. They didn’t even seem to notice Slip’s absence.

Villagers threw rocks at them, bouncing of the plastoid. Zeroes and Nines shot them down without hesitation, but the cold ache in FN-2187’s chest made him freeze before he could raise his blaster.

And then, from nowhere he could see, a blaster bolt hit Nines in the shoulder, scorching his armor.

The pilot!

The man’s ship was destroyed, and the only allies he had were untrained, useless villagers who kept running away, but he disappeared between the buildings, and then reappeared to fire at the stormtroopers again and again.

It wouldn’t last—the village was too small for them to lose him for long—but as a delay, it worked very well.

FN-2187 felt colder every time one of his fellows shot down a villager. Slip was dead, and the blood stained his armor, and—he didn’t want to be here.

The pilot fired again, this time nearly hitting Zeroes. Zeroes returned fire with enthusiasm. When the pilot vanished again, Zeroes returned to shooting villagers.

FN-2187 fell behind. This was the glory of fighting for the First Order? This was what he’d trained all his life for? He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to kill the villagers. He didn’t even want to kill the pilot.

He was staring at the limp, empty form of a village child, not a single shot fired, when the others cornered the pilot, when the pilot placed his blaster under his own chin, when they wrestled it away from him and locked binders on his wrists.

Captain Phasma gave the order to take the pilot back to the lander, and destroy the rest of the village. To hunt down the villagers who’d run. FN-2187 lifted his blaster when the others did, but couldn’t pull the trigger.

It was his first battle for the First Order. FN-2187 decided that it would be his last.

Chapter Text

Rey scanned the early morning sky. Her parents’ ship wasn’t there, but there was a plume of smoke in the distance.

Not her problem. She had a star destroyer to scavenge for parts.

She took her speeder to Niima Outpost’s well.

(Her parents’ ship wasn’t in the outpost’s shipyard, either.)

People looked towards the smoke and muttered to each other, but none muttered to Rey. She ignored them as she filled her canteens. She’d learned her lesson about trying to make friends.

Back to her speeder. Check over her tools. Drive out.

Going around the sand wastes took her closer to the smoke, and despite herself, Rey slowed down for a better look. Tuanul Settlement, with those Church of the Force people, was that way. Had it been attacked by bandits again?

A droid squeaked in Binary, sounding upset.

Now that was interesting—and potentially very valuable. Droids weren’t common out here. Rey stopped the speeder.

“Hello?” she called.

More Binary sounded, and a humanoid figure staggered over a dune. A shorter, less organic figure followed.

Rey looked between them and the smoke. “Are you from Tuanul?” She hadn’t thought they had any droids there.

“Water,” the taller one rasped. A young Teedo, unfamiliar. Rey hopped off the speeder and handed over a canteen.

There was a code among the scavengers and villagers: the bosses might restrict the wells, but if you had water, you shared it, if you could. Rey didn’t try to be friendly anymore, but she wasn’t a monster.

They drained most of the canteen before handing it back. “It was the First Order,” they said. “They killed…everyone. People tried to evacuate and they hunted them down. Can we have a lift to Niima Outpost?”

The droid squealed in protest. Rey raised an eyebrow at them both.

The Teedo shrugged. “I don’t speak Binary, I’ve got no idea what he wants, but I have to get the word out about what happened.”

The droid squealed again.

“It doesn’t want to go near that many people,” Rey translated. “I’ll take you to the Outpost. You,” she turned to the droid, “wait here, and if you stay out of my way, you can come with me to the ship graveyard.”

She didn’t wait for it to agree before she remounted the speeder, letting the Teedo come up behind her. The droid would be there when she got back, or it wouldn’t. Not her problem.

She barely waited for the Teedo to get off at the outpost arch before she was heading out again. She wanted to be in the shade of the star destroyer before the sun got too high.

*

Poe didn’t exactly enjoy waking up covered in bruises and blood, but he’d adjusted to it on some messier Resistance missions.

Waking up covered in bruises and blood and restraints, now, that was a new one. Poe liked it even less.

The room was dim. He squinted. Two stormtroopers at the door. Two others in front of him—one in a black mask, the other in a crisp uniform that left his face exposed. It didn’t do him any favors.

“Well done,” said the one in the crisp uniform. Poe wondered if he practiced that sneer in the ‘fresher. “You’ve managed to make every single person on this ship want to kill you.”

Poe shrugged as much as he could with his arms pinned down. “It’s a talent.”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Did you take a class on being intimidating? I think you should retake it.” This guy was probably General Hux. Poe had a lot of practice at annoying generals.

But Hux didn’t rise to his bait. “Ren,” he said, turning to the man in the black mask. “What can you get from him?”

The masked man stepped closer, head tilting slightly. Poe stared back, feeling like he was under a microscope. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and as the masked man reached for his face, Poe realized what he must be.

“You’re one of the kids they took from the Jedi school, right?” he asked. Nine years later and all grown up under a wannabe Sith. “Did you have parents? Siblings? Friends? I bet they’re still looking for you.”

The masked man—or boy—said nothing.

“Do you know Ben Organa? His mom and dad miss him a lot. I don’t know the other families, but I bet—“

Hux slapped him. Every other bruise Poe had throbbed.

“Keep going, Ren,” he said.

The masked boy spoke for the first time. “Ben Organa is dead.” His voice was distorted—Poe couldn’t hope to guess at what it really sounded like. The mask turned toward Hux. “San Tekka showed him a map.”

“Go on.”

Poe knew how to shield his mind. The General had made sure of that when he got promoted. But he was about as Force sensitive as a womp rat. Whatever senses the General used to know where to reinforce her shields, he simply didn’t have.

Ren, if that was really his name, hadn’t seemed to notice his shields at all.

He had to focus on it, then. Poe closed his eyes, flinching away from gloved fingers brushing against his temples.

At first he’d envisioned his X-wing cockpit for his shields, but the General said he had too many memories involving Resistance secrets tied to it for that to work long.

There was a tree, by his family’s home on Yavin 4. An important tree, a gift from Luke Skywalker, but young Poe only knew it as the place he climbed to watch the skies for his mom’s old A-wing. Poe dug into his memories of it, the texture of the bark under his hands, the rustle of wind in the leaves.

His head hurt, like a vise squeezing the base of his skull.

The tree. The spot where the branches were shaped perfectly for him to sit. The crown finches that nested in it. Sunburns when he stayed out there too long, and his dad scolding him while smearing bacta gel over his cheeks.

Poe could swear there were knives stabbing into his temples, but when he opened his eyes it was still only the masked boy’s fingertips.

He looked at the visor of the mask. That was a mistake.

The knives twisted, and the memories he’d been holding shattered.

Whatever Ren was doing to his mind, finding in his mind, Poe couldn’t tell. All he knew was that everything hurt, and his head spun like he’d tried to fly an obstacle course while heavily concussed.

He tasted blood.

“Primea,” Ren said. Poe heard it like he was underwater. “Rapacc. Nishmar. Ahch-To. Darial. Seven or eight others, he doesn’t remember them all. Skywalker should be at one of them.”

“He doesn’t remember them all?” Hux demanded.

“He wasn’t trying to memorize it. He only saw the map for a minute.”

“Then where is the map?”

The feeling of knives and a vise and spinning intensified. Poe might have screamed.

He definitely fainted.

Chapter Text

FN-2187 had to brace himself any time he went near Kylo Ren or the other Knights.

Not because he was scared they’d have a tantrum with their powers and kill him, though that was a valid concern. Not because of his usual wariness around a superior officer. He wasn’t sure if they were superior officers, really. Sometimes they were allowed to give troopers orders, and sometimes they weren’t, and it changed without notice. The Generals and Captains certainly ordered the Knights around often enough.

But the feelings that swirled around every one of the Knights were overwhelming, and FN-2187 wasn’t sure how nobody else was bothered by it.

Fear and fury and pain and loss and a thousand other emotions FN-2187 didn’t have names for. Even their lightsabers seemed to be screaming.

He breathed in and out slowly, stood as straight as he could. Centering himself helped, he’d found.

No time to worry about the order to report to reconditioning, or be scared of what he was about to do. No time to think about the blood and bodies on Jakku. He pressed down on his own emotions till they were barely there at all, he’d deal with them later.

There. He could go to the cells now.

He passed General Hux on the way, giving orders to search Jakku for a droid. Kylo Ren shadowed him. With his own emotions muted, FN-2187 couldn’t be sure, but he thought the Knight felt strange. Stranger than normal.

More importantly, if Hux was allowing Ren to follow him so closely, and not lecturing him, he was probably allowed to give the stormtroopers orders.

At the very least, that’s what the guards would think.

“Ren wants the prisoner,” he told the pilot’s guards, and they nodded and helped him swap the pilot from the chair restraints to a set of binders.

The pilot didn’t seem to notice at first, looking dazed, but then he twitched, and a look of terror crossed his bloodied face. FN-2187 grabbed his arm securely before he could have any ideas about fighting back, and marched him on.

The man limped slightly. FN-2187 adjusted his grip to take some of his weight.

He angled away from the bridge, taking narrower side halls towards the Finalizer’s docking bay. At the narrowest and most deserted point, FN-2187 stopped in a camera blind spot.

“Can you fly a TIE fighter?” he asked the pilot.

“What?” the man asked blankly.

“I’m getting you out of here. Can you fly a TIE fighter?”

For a moment, FN-2187 worried the answer would be no, or that whatever Hux had done had broken the pilot’s resolve and he’d have to virtually carry the man through their escape.

Then the pilot smiled. Blood seeped between his teeth. It was the best thing FN-2187 had ever seen.

“I can fly anything,” the pilot said, and as bold a claim as it was, FN-2187 believed him.

He opened the pilot’s binders, leaving them on but easy to remove. “Then let’s go.”

“Are you with the Resistance?” the pilot asked softly as they continued.

“No,” he answered. “I just know something’s wrong with the First Order.”

FN-2187 had never said that out loud before. He grinned under his helmet.

*

Poe and his surprise stormtrooper friend avoided the rest of the Finalizer crew remarkably well. The trooper had an excellent sense for when the way was clear and when they needed to wait.

They reached the TIE fighter without any issues besides Poe’s lingering headache and shakiness.

He did not feel great.

But everything was better in a cockpit. Poe beamed as he took the pilot’s seat, shedding his jacket.

He hadn’t exaggerated his flying abilities. He’d logged many, many hours in the flight simulators, using every model of ship he could find records for. This fighter was slightly updated from the last version he’d practiced on, but as Poe ran his hands over the controls, it felt like coming home.

“You ever been a gunner?” he called to the stormtrooper.

“No, I only trained for infantry.”

“Same principle as a blaster, aim at what needs to be destroyed and pull the trigger. You’ve got a display in front of you that has your targeting computer, use the toggles below it to adjust your aim, hit the green button for standard bolts and red for missiles, but we’ve only got two missiles so make those count.” Poe’s controls had a smaller version of the same, but only for one front blaster.

“Toggles?”

The stormtrooper sounded just a little panicked, but Poe needed to move.

He powered on the TIE fighter, disconnected the docking tie, and shut off the comm unit before the bridge could demand to know what they were doing.

“Try shooting at the other fighters!” Poe told the trooper, lifting into the air.

The stormtrooper muttered to himself uncertainly. Then the blaster went off, the bolt flying across the docking bay. It completely missed the docked fighters, only knocked some troopers flying.

“Great job, keep it up!” Poe encouraged anyway, turning them to the exit.

The blaster went off three more times, actually hitting a fighter the second time. It exploded beautifully.

“Perfect,” Poe grinned as they raced out of the Finalizer into the open void.

The day was terrible in so many ways and Poe kind of wanted to shout until his voice gave out, but this moment was perfect.

“I’m Poe,” he said, “Poe Dameron, what’s your name?”

“FN-2187,” the stormtrooper recited.

“F-what?”

“Only name I’ve ever had.”

And Poe would have to unpack that later. “Nope, I’m calling you Finn now, sound alright?”

More TIE fighters streamed from the Finalizer, and blaster bolts flew their way.

“Finn,” the stormtrooper muttered. “Finn. Finn.”

It wasn’t very helpful commentary, but for the moment? Poe had this.

TIE fighters had absolutely minimal shielding, their design being more concerned with speed. He used that speed to his advantage, dodging the shots and flying in between two of the enemy fighters.

One fired at him, but hit its ally instead.

“I like Finn!” said the stormtrooper.

“Wonderful! Great to meet you! Please shoot at these guys.”

“Right!”

Finn’s aim was improving. He nearly hit the next fighter to take a run at them. Poe corkscrewed around its shots and used his own blaster controls to shoot it down.

Take that, Snap, his “excessive” and “frankly concerning” time in the flight simulators was totally justified. Poe didn’t “need a social life,” he needed to make these wannabe Imperials regret all of their life choices.

Shooting while flying this thing wasn’t like shooting in his X-wing, though, and he couldn’t use the rear blaster or cannon, so Finn was invaluable even inexperienced.

Poe whooped as loudly as the former stormtrooper when Finn’s next shot hit a TIE fighter close enough to catch its wingmate in the blast.

That got them enough breathing room for Poe to say, “Alright, this thing’s not hyperspace capable, so we’re gonna have to land back on Jakku. Do you know it much?”

“Last night was the first time I ever saw it.”

“Me too, but I’ve heard some things.” He sent the TIE fighter towards the planet at an angle, descending and getting more distance from the Finalizer at the same time.

They couldn’t dodge forever, but this little fighter was stupid fast.

They could choose a better battlefield.

Chapter Text

Despite herself, Rey liked the little droid.

It used cables to lift itself into the less accessible parts of the star destroyer, places even she didn’t often go. Its inbuilt tools could be far more precise than her own. Once it had seen her work for an hour, asking questions about what kinds of things she was looking for, it disappeared into the shadows above and brought back half a dozen parts she’d normally spend all day to get.

So it was useful.

It was oddly sweet, too. When she scraped her hand removing a jagged panel, it squealed at her until she put a bandage on the wound.

“Why do you care?” Rey asked as she tied the bandage off. “You don’t know me.”

One of its duties was apparently making sure its human took care of himself. It didn’t like seeing any organic neglect their health.

BB-8’s whistle grew sad.

“Were you separated from your human last night?”

Yes, and it was scared he was doing something stupid without it. It was supposed to wait for him or his squadron.

“Well,” Rey said, unsure how to be comforting. “You’re not bad company. You can hang out with me till he or his friends get back.”

The little droid perked up. Rey immediately regretted trying to be comforting.

“I’m not letting you force me to eat more or whatever else you do with your human, though. Food’s too valuable as it is.”

Something about the way the droid’s dome tilted at her made her think it wasn’t dissuaded in the slightest.

It got hotter as they worked, but it would have been far worse on the open sand. Rey stopped at sun’s high, descending to sit on a ledge just above the ground. She sipped at a canteen and opened a half portion of rations.

BB-8 came back down while she ate, beeping questions.

“I don’t know where it’s from,” Rey said. “I guess another planet? Some kind of factory?”

Whatever commentary the droid had on her meal was interrupted by a distant engine roar.

BB-8 squealed.

Rey frowned. She didn’t know what a TIE fighter would sound like, but the droid was convinced. “I could get a lot for the parts.” Fresh parts were hard to find.

The droid chirped.

“I’m not a fool, I’m not gonna attack it! I’ll just try and see what they’re doing. You can hide.”

Gripping her staff, Rey slid to the ground. The empty shells of the engine casings left vast openings, and a huge swath of pale blue sky was visible. She squinted as she stepped into the sunlight.

A black dot resolved itself in her view. Then five more dots appeared, following it. Green sparks—were they shooting at each other?

They were coming closer.

For reasons she couldn’t name, Rey decided to join BB-8 high in the shadows until whatever was happening was finished.

*

Finn—his name was Finn now, he had a name, not a mocking nickname like Slip or a shortening of his number, but a real name—decided that Poe Dameron was a little insane.

Their stolen TIE fighter entered atmosphere at a speed that couldn’t be safe, zigging and zagging as it went and making his window glow orangish. It was exciting. It was nauseating. It was insane.

But then, Finn was betraying the First Order, so he wasn’t one to talk.

Finn shot at the next fighter that appeared on his targeting computer. It didn’t quite hit where he wanted, but the damage to the wing sent the other TIE fighter spiraling. “If we go low to the ground it’ll disrupt their tracking,” he said.

“Excellent thinking, buddy!”

Their fighter swerved around the next blasts before Finn even realized they were being shot at again. Then they dropped, sending funny waves through his stomach, and before he knew it they were skimming low over the sand.

He watched his targeting computer for the little blips of the other TIE fighters to come into range. As the next one approached, an instinct tugged at him—the same instinct he followed in battle simulations, the reason he had the best targeting scores in his battalion.

He pressed the trigger seconds before the fighter could enter the crosshairs.

It erupted, burning larger in the atmosphere than those he’d shot up above.

“Nice one!” Poe whooped.

Three left—four if the one he’d only clipped recovered. Finn breathed, absurdly tempted to close his eyes. He watched the targeting computer.

The fighter swerved, and Finn blinked as a massive, old-fashioned, star destroyer’s hull came into view. “What is this place?”

“Site of an old battle. Lots of ships and walkers just got abandoned,” Poe said. Saying this, he suddenly turned them around a pile of twisted metal Finn couldn’t hope to identify, and sent them hurtling closer to the downed star destroyer.

They zigged and zagged too rapidly for him to aim at the pursuing TIE fighters, but they couldn’t hope to hit Finn and Poe either.

“Have you ever heard of pod racing?” Poe asked.

“No,” said Finn, feeling suddenly (more) nervous.

“Let’s hope they haven’t either!”

They sped up. A cloud of sand kicked up in their wake.

Finn blinked, and when he opened his eyes, they were inside the star destroyer. It was a dark maze. How were they not hitting anything? He turned his head to see a bloom of orange light behind them as another TIE fighter hit a bulkhead and burned.

Then they swerved, and were out under the sun again. Poe took them in a wide arc around the downed star destroyer before closing in on it again.

This time the TIE fighter that followed them inside managed not to hit anything, but that placed it directly behind them. Finn managed to shoot its wing. That disrupted its direction enough to send it into a wall.

Then they headed for the open sky again.

Now!

The instinct tugged at him, and Finn fired before fully registering the final blip on his targeting computer.

The last TIE fighter exploded anyway.

Finn gaped. “Did you see that?!”

“Beautiful!” agreed Poe. Slowing down, he brought them back into the empty shell of the star destroyer and settled them down onto the sand.

They both stumbled out of the TIE fighter.

“That was awesome,” said Poe. He flopped down on his back. “Totally wizard.”

Finn sat next to him. He started to unlatch his armor. “That was terrifying.”

“That too.”

“We almost died.”

“So many times.” But Poe grinned as he said it. “We didn’t though!”

“Who are you?” demanded a new voice.

A young human woman, wearing goggles and clothes the same color as the sand, stood over them. She held a staff like she knew how to break things with it, and Finn tensed.

Poe just waved. “Hi. I’m Poe, this is Finn. We’re with the Resistance.”

Finn blinked. “We are?”

“Well I am, and you’re with me, so it counts.”

“Oh.” Finn searched for the right word for that. “Wizard.”

“The First Order will be looking for you,” the young woman said.

“Definitely,” said Poe. “But leaving the fighter in here should get us some breathing room. Their tech comes from the Empire, it’ll be tricky to distinguish it in scans.”

“They destroyed a village last night.”

Finn looked away.

“We’re trying to stop them from doing that to anyone else,” said Poe.

The young woman’s head tilted. “One moment,” she said.

She clambered up into the bowels of the star destroyer, vanishing into shadows. Finn busied himself shedding the rest of his armor.

He’d never have to put it on again.

A piercing whistle rang through the air, and Poe sat up. “No way,” he breathed.

A small droid clattered down from the shadows and rolled straight at Poe, beeping and whistling at him.

Poe beamed and patted its dome. “I’m all right, don’t worry,” he said.

Finn coughed. “You’re still covered in blood.”

The droid’s beeps got shriller. It extended a tool from its side and poked Poe with it.

“So I got roughed up,” he admitted. “But I’m in one piece! And you’ve done a fantastic job hiding!”

“It’s been decent company,” the young woman said. “Didn’t mention it was Resistance, though.” She extended a hand. “I’m Rey.”

“Thank you, Rey,” Poe said, grabbing her hand in turn.

The droid beeped at Finn. “Hi,” Finn said with a small wave. “I don’t speak that.”

That got Poe’s attention. “This is BB-8, my astromech. Beebee, this is Finn, he got me off the Finalizer.”

Finn could swear the droid was squinting at him. Probably his imagination. “So what’s our next move?”

“We’ll need to find a hyperspace-capable ship to leave the system. Might have to steal it.”

“Unkar Plutt’s got ships you could steal,” offered Rey. “He’s the worst.”

“Great!” Poe said, looking delighted at the prospective of stealing a second ship in as many hours. “Is it far?”

“Not by speeder.” Rey frowned at the three of them. “I may need to make two trips, though.”

Chapter Text

BB-8 didn’t prod Poe to talk while they waited for Rey to get back to the outpost with Finn. Poe was grateful. He’d want to talk, later, but for now… he couldn’t think about any of it. Not when they still needed to get home.

Instead of poking at the recent past, BB-8 nudged the tiny med kit Finn had found in the TIE fighter at him.

“Good idea,” Poe agreed. They were in the shade of a building on the very edge of Niima Outpost, and in the midday heat people weren’t really wandering around, but that could change. It was time to clean up.

It was tricky and painful without a mirror, but BB-8 whistled directions at him when he missed a spot, and Poe managed to wipe down the scrapes and clean off the blood. Mostly. He’d had a nasty nosebleed at some point, and there weren’t enough wipes in the kit to get it all.

At further nudging, Poe rubbed some bacta gel on the cuts and scrapes. He mustered a grin at his droid.

“Still handsome?” he asked.

Obviously. BB-8 chirped more after the confirmation.

Poe raised his eyebrows. “You can’t keep Rey, she’s her own person.”

Whistling.

“We can invite her to come with us, but—“ Poe was interrupted by the return of Rey’s speeder.

“The shipyard is this way,” she said, all business, but Poe paused.

Finn had stripped down to his black underarmor layer. It would stand out.

“Take my jacket, it’ll make your clothes look more normal.”

Finn hesitated. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Finn shrugged it on and grinned, and Poe decided he’d forget to ask for it back. He had other clothes on D’Qar. And the jacket definitely suited Finn.

“Come on,” said Rey.

The shipyard wasn’t large, but Poe could see a good half dozen ships with potential. BB-8 hacked the gate, and they were in.

“I’d suggest that one,” Rey said, gesturing to a Sprint-class craft with peeling red paint.

“Maybe,” Poe said, scanning the ships. But, there, past an old Rylothian patrol craft, was a battered Corellian freighter with a very familiar shape.

“Let’s take that one,” he said, pointing.

Rey frowned at it. “That one’s garbage.”

“It might be a coincidence, but it looks an awful lot like the Millennium Falcon,” Poe said, heading for it.

Rey sputtered as she followed. “The smuggling ship? The one that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs? That Millennium Falcon?”

“Twelve and a half parsecs, and yes,” Poe said, “That one.”

“What would it be doing here?” Finn asked.

But they’d reached the ship. Poe took a moment to just stare at it.

He’d only seen the Falcon in person a few times, when he was little, but he’d seen her in a thousand holograms. He’d piloted her in the simulator a few times after studying the Rebellion battles she was part of, even though she’d vanished.

This was her.

“She’s beautiful,” Poe breathed.

Rey and Finn both frowned at him. “It looks like two different ships were dismantled and taped together,” Rey said. “In the dark.”

“She’s a Rebel ship. It’s part of the charm.”

“Unkar Plutt’s been trying to sell it for as long as I’ve been here.”

BB-8 beeped.

Right. They needed to hurry.

“Let’s see what kind of condition she’s in,” Poe said, and hurried up the boarding ramp.

Finn didn’t recognize the ship that had Poe so excited and Rey so confused, and he didn’t know enough about ships to understand their talk about it.

When Rey tore a piece out of the wall of the cockpit and said “There, we’ve bypassed the compressor,” Poe laughed, so they seemed to be getting along, at least. That was good. Squads did better when they didn’t fight.

Finn found himself at loose ends while they worked on the cables under the floor. So he wandered.

The ship was dusty, and under the dust was layers of old stains. Whoever had been in charge of sanitation here hadn’t made much of an effort.

He found two spots that looked like gunner positions. He’d probably need to use one sooner than he liked. He found an old table with pieces from some kind of game still laying on it.

He found a small room with two narrow cots, and he didn’t know why, but Finn suddenly wanted to know what was in the drawers under the cots.

So he looked. He found some blankets. A child-sized beaded bracelet. A screwdriver.

And in a hidden compartment behind one drawer, two things that felt immediately important: an old-fashioned holorecorder and an incomplete lightsaber hilt.

Poe’s droid beeped at him from the hall. Finn ignored it, picking the items up. The droid beeped louder, rolling closer to bump at his legs.

It was difficult to pull his eyes from the items. “Do they need me for something?” Finn asked.

More beeping.

“Lead the way, I guess.”

BB-8 led him back to the cockpit. “Great, you’re here,” Poe said. “We’re nearly ready to go.”

“I’m staying,” Rey said.

BB-8 squealed. Finn didn’t need to understand it to agree with it. “You should come.”

“No,” Rey said. “I’m waiting for my family. I can’t leave.”

Something in her voice made Finn pause. “How long have you been waiting?” he asked.

“Almost nine standard years,” she admitted.

Too long to expect anyone back. Finn fidgeted, unsure what to say. The movement drew Poe’s attention to what he was holding. “Is that a lightsaber?”

“Most of one, I think.” He offered it to Poe, who held it with a kind of reverence Finn had never seen before.

Rey bit her lip. “Can I see the holorecorder?”

“Sure.”

Rey pushed a few buttons, and a hologram flickered to life. It was of a young Twi’lek woman wearing loose robes.   Finn didn’t get to look very closely because it deactivated when Rey dropped it.

She stared at the fallen holorecorder for a long moment. “Fine. I’ll come.” She scooped it up and tucked it into her belt, and made no sign of explaining her change of mind.

“Good,” Poe said. “This’ll be easier with a copilot. Everyone ready?”

Finn nodded, BB-8 squeaked, and Rey dropped into the copilot’s seat.

Poe carefully set the partial lightsaber on the side of the dashboard, and started up the ship.

Rey remembered space flight, just barely. She remembered vastness of the universe outside, and the way the stars blurred into hyperspace. Trying to remember more gave her headaches, but she remembered that much.

So she didn’t stare out the cockpit as Poe sent them skyward. She told herself she didn’t need to, it couldn’t have changed that much. Instead, she watched the controls and display panels in front of her.

As confident as Poe was, and as careful as they’d been in checking her over, Unkar Plutt had been calling this ship unsaleable garbage for as long as Rey could remember. She couldn’t just sit and think about the hologram. She needed to be ready for something to go wrong.

Something did go wrong, but it wasn’t the ship. The scanners beeped, showing a small flock of TIE fighters.

“Finn?” Poe asked.

Finn sighed, “Yes, I’ll be gunner,” and his footsteps hurried away even as the ship shook with a blast from a fighter.

“Run hyperspace calculations for the Ileenium system,” Poe told Rey. “We’ll want them ready for any chance to run. Oh, have it queue up the Takodana system too, that’s closer.”

Rey typed in the commands as Poe pushed the Falcon to accelerate.

The ship shook with another blast. “Finn, you all right?” Poe called over a headset. He handed a matching headset to Rey.

“Just figuring out the controls,” came the response. One of the blips on the scanner vanished. “I’m getting it.”

“Good!”

The Falcon couldn’t turn as tightly as the TIE fighters, but she was nearly as fast. Poe dodged her around the fighters, flying them higher and higher.

Then another squadron came down from above them. Their shields took more hits.

“Kriff,” Poe said, tapping their controls. “Rey, have you piloted?”

“Yes, but—“

“Great, Beebee, help her, I’ll take the upper gun.”

He hurried off before she could say “But not in space.”

Rey looked at the controls. They seemed much more intimidating now that she was in charge of them.

The ship shook at another blast to the shields. BB-8 squeaked at her, pulling itself up into the seat with a cable.

No time to panic. Rey knew starship controls. Mostly because she dismantled a lot of starships, but she knew them.

“Increasing upper shields,” she muttered to herself. “Calculations are still running. Accelerating. Dodging.”

Especially dodging. The shields took another hit. Another fighter vanished from the scanners as Poe and Finn fired back. And a gunship appeared in the distance.

But so did an X-Wing.

The comm unit beeped. BB-8 answered it before Rey could try to lean over to get it.

“Unknown freighter, this is Black Two of the Resistance,” the caller said. “Would you like some assistance?”

“Yes!” Rey said, and BB-8 beeped in agreement.

“Roger roger,” said Black Two, swooping to engage with the gunship.

Rey pushed the accelerator harder. Three TIE fighters came from in front, and she sent the Falcon into a corkscrew spin past them. Finn and Poe shot two of the fighters as they went by, and then another.

BB-8 beeped encouragement.

“I can do this,” Rey whispered to herself.

Somehow, she could. They were nearly out of the atmosphere, and there was only a handful of TIE fighters left now, which Poe was shooting down.

But Black Two was still fighting the gunship. She turned the Falcon towards it. “Finn, Poe, can you aim for the cannons?”

“Get above it, I think there’s a weak point in the shields on the roof,” Finn said.

Rey lifted the Falcon still higher. The sky outside the viewport was nearly black.

Finn fired. The gunship’s shields failed. And Black Two shot the engines out, making it explode.

Finn and Poe returned to the cockpit. Poe leaned over the pilot’s seat to tap the comm unit. “Black Two, this is Black Leader aboard the Millennium Falcon. What’s your status?”

“Shields are a little banged up, but I’m mostly worried about my commander missing his check-in,” said Black Two. “Did your starfighter get shot out from under you again?”

“It’s only happened twice!” Poe grinned, lines of tension easing from his posture. He glanced to Rey and pointed up, and she resumed flying them out of the atmosphere. “I’ll tell you all about it once we’re somewhere safer. Shall we rendezvous at Base One?”

“Nope. You’ve got a meeting at Neutral Three, Black Leader.“

“Neutral Three, got it.” Poe turned to Rey. “That’s Takodana.”

Black Two followed them away from Jakku.

“How often do your starfighters get shot out from under you?” Finn asked.

“Not that often. It’s a code, lets me know he’s actually who he says he is.” Poe nudged BB-8 out of the pilot’s seat and sat down. He tapped the comm unit once they were a safe distance from the planet. “Black Two, ready to jump to hyperspace?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Rey, would you like to do the honors?” asked Poe, gesturing to the hyperspace controls.

Rey pushed the joystick forward, and the stars around them blurred.

It was even more beautiful than she remembered.

Chapter Text

It took time for the adrenaline to die down. Rey fidgeted with the holorecorder, then set it aside and started sorting the toolkit she and Poe had raided to get the Falcon space worthy. Finn paced through the handful of rooms the small freighter had. Poe leaned over the controls and ran his hands through his hair.

“What do fighter pilots do in hyperspace?” Finn asked when he wandered back into the cockpit. “What’s Black Two doing?”

Poe shrugged. “Depends on the pilot. I’ve usually got a mini sim in my cockpit, so I can practice piloting different kinds of ships. Some people bring games or books. A lot of us sleep, if we can. Snap’ll probably do that, he can sleep anywhere.”

BB-8 whistled a suggestion that Poe get some rest himself. The bruise beside his eye was darkening, and he didn’t look well.

“It’ll be a few hours before we come out of hyperspace,” Rey said. “I can keep watch.”

Finn decided he could use some sleep as well, and soon Rey was alone at the controls.

When the bunk room was quiet for several minutes, she lifted up the holorecorder and switched it on.

The Twi’lek woman appeared again, in spacer’s clothes that didn’t quite fit. Her mother. Probably not her birth mother, she was too young and the wrong species, but the woman Rey’s few early memories called Mother all the same.

She pressed the button to play the recording. Nothing happened.

“Dank farrik,” she muttered.

Neglected files didn’t always last. She knew that. She knew things that might retrieve them, too, but they took time.

In the nearly nine years since they found her half-buried in the sand, Rey had never been so close to finding out why.

Why had she been left there beside the crashed ship, and nobody else? Where had she come from? Where was her family?

All she’d had was a sense that she needed to wait, that her family would come for her.

She’d had nearly nine years to get used to the amnesia. Rey still hated it.

As soon as Black Two, or rather Snap, saw Poe’s face, he declared, “We’re going to medical.”

“You said I had a meeting,” Poe said.

“If you go to the General’s office looking like that, she’ll kick you right back out. We can meet her there, come on.”

Poe did look rough. Finn didn’t think he’d actually managed to sleep.

But it was difficult to worry about that when there was so much to see.

Takodana was vibrant with life. In the canyon Snap had them land in, you couldn’t see the green, green jungle, but it was still lively. Moss grew on the rocks around them, little creatures ran around, fluttered in the air.

He hadn’t been to the surface of many planets. None that felt this peaceful. It was nice.

Snap led them into a tunnel carved into the canyon’s side, winding upwards. It was rougher than the tunnels through Starkiller Base, but still familiar.

People passed them. Human, Twi’lek, Wookiee, droid, other species he couldn’t name. Some of them greeted Poe or Snap.

It was lighter than Starkiller Base. There was far less fear.

But it made Rey nervous, Finn thought. So when she ducked into a smaller, emptier tunnel, he didn’t say anything about it.

Commander Dameron had a cold pack over his eye, a brace around his elbow, and a bacta patch over his ribs when Leia Organa found him in an exam room, but he was alive. Thank the Force. She’d sent too many to their deaths recently.

Poe’s mission report was welcome news, until he got to his capture and interrogation. Then he hesitated.

“They had a Force user,” he said. “I tried to keep him out, but-“

“I know,” Leia said. She could see the marks of a Dark Sider’s touch on his mind. The medics would have to run scans to ensure there was no physical damage from it. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Thanks, General,” Poe said, looking away. “He said Ben Organa was dead.”

“He isn’t.” Leia would feel it.

He straightened. “They don’t have all the locations from San Tekka’s map, because I didn’t remember them all. But they have a lot.”

“We’ll handle it,” Leia promised. “What happened next?”

“They left me alone for a bit. A Stormtrooper came and said Ren—that’s the Force user—wanted me. But once we were alone, he asked if I could fly a TIE fighter. Helped me get out of there.” Poe jerked his head towards the door. “He’s in the next room, I think. Doctor Kix wanted to check him over.”

A Stormtrooper defecting? Interesting. “Do you think he’d be willing to share intelligence about the First Order?”

“I think so.”

“What is his name?” Leia asked.

“He didn’t have one, just a string of letters and numbers. I’ve been calling him Finn,” Poe said.

“Is there anything else?”

“A local on Jakku offered to help us steal a ship. Her name’s Rey, she’s jumpy, dunno where she wandered off to. But something really cool was in the shipyard: the Millennium Falcon.”

“What?”

The Falcon hadn’t been seen in nine years. They hadn’t found her in the wreckage after the Jedi school attack, but she was assumed destroyed.

Poe beamed. “I know right? We stole her, she’s in the canyon now. Snap showed up to help us get away. Now we’re here. Why aren’t you on D’Qar?”

“There was a spy,” Leia says. “We caught them before they got anything essential, but D’Qar was compromised. Maz Kanata was kind enough to let us work from her land until our next location is ready.”

“Is Black Squadron okay?”

Leia smiled. He was a good commander. “Oddy is still on his mission, but the rest are here. They’ll be glad to see you.”

“Good.” Poe’s eyes had shadows under them, and not just because of the bruises.

“Get some rest. Listen to the medics. You’ve done well.”

BB-8 whistled agreement from beside Poe’s cot.

He gave them both a sloppy salute with his non-braced arm. “Aye aye, General.”

The vision came as Leia knocked on the next exam room’s doorframe.

She didn’t usually get visions; she hadn’t cultivated them the way her brother had. But this… It was one part vision, one part memory.

Alderaan.

She could still remember the way the Force screamed as millions of lives ended. The weight of Vader’s hand on her shoulder, forcing her to watch, as her parents, her friends, nearly everyone she loved, died in an instant.

Leia Organa had not gone home in more than thirty years. She would never go home again.

Finn avoided medics and doctors when he could. They weren’t just in charge of healing in the First Order; they were also responsible for reconditioning. Even the antiseptic smell of the medical tunnel made him nervous.

But Doctor Kix was okay. Finn wasn’t sure how he knew that, he just did.

He became extra certain of it when the man pointed to an odd spot on the scan of his arm, next to his left bicep. “That’s a tracker,” he said. “You aren’t a clone, are you?”

“I don’t think so? The cloning program shut down when I was a cadet. Too few experts.”

“Thought so. The Empire killed most of the decent cloners in the Galaxy. Just wanted to check.” Doctor Kix waved to his medical droid, which came and hovered over Finn only a little ominously. “We can deactivate the tracker now, but removing it will take surgery.”

“Let’s absolutely deactivate it now,” Finn said. “You don’t think they’ll track me here?”

“I’m not sure. You usually have to be on the same planet to get a decent read on an implanted tracker like that. But just in case…” The medical droid extended an appendage. “This will sting.”

It did a lot more than sting, but Finn avoided swearing at the shock that went through him when the droid zapped him.

There was a knock at the door. A gray-haired human woman stood outside, frowning.

“General,” Doctor Kix said. “What do you need?”

“To talk to Finn,” she said. “I’m afraid it’s urgent.”

Finn was not sure how to greet her. He tried a salute like he’d give Captain Phasma.

This General waved it down. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.” She took the seat Doctor Kix had left. “I’m sorry, I’d like to meet you properly, but there isn’t time. I need to ask about the First Order.”

“Okay, General,” Finn said. “What about it?”

“Are they building a super weapon?”

Oh. Finn’s chest went cold. “It’s not supposed to be ready yet,” he said, “But I haven’t been back in a few weeks. It could be finished.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called Starkiller Base. It can drain a star, then use the energy to destroy a star system.”

The General’s eyes closed. “What is its first target?”

“Hosnia, I think,” he said.

“How long will it take to get there?”

“It doesn’t need to. It can hit a system from halfway across the Galaxy.”

“Bantha shit!”

Finn jumped a little at the exclamation, but the General wasn’t angry at him. She pulled a comm unit from her pocket. “Threepio. Contact the New Republic. Tell them the First Order has attempted a bigger, stronger Death Star, and they’re the target.”

The comm crackled.

“Yes, I’m sure. Get to it. Then have your agents evacuate. The system, not the planet.”

She ended the call, but immediately made a new one. “Wedge. How many people do you think your academy could get out of a star system in a hurry?”

Chapter Text

Rey didn’t like crowds.

Maybe she was judging them too early. There weren’t a lot of crowds on Jakku. Still, if every crowd was like this—noisy, smelly, humid—she was very certain she wouldn’t like them.

So she wandered the tunnels, looking for someplace quiet.

It wasn’t the safest thing. There were warnings among scavengers, about exploring too deep in caves. But Rey never got lost, and she didn’t think she would here.

She found herself going up, up, where the air smelled different—still damp, but warmer.

In the middle of a stairway, there stood a short orange humanoid wearing enormous goggles. She stared at Rey.

“I think I need to show you something,” the woman said.

“Who are you?” Rey asked.

“Ha! I should be asking you that. You’ve wandered under my tavern.” The woman turned away, waving for Rey to follow her upstairs.

“I’m Rey. I’m no one important.” Rey hesitated, then followed the strange woman.

“I am Maz Kanata. You came here with the Resistance, I assume? I don’t know of any other wanderers hiding in my tunnels.”

“Um, yeah. I helped one of their pilots steal a ship.”

The short woman turned and grinned at Rey. “I think I like you,” she said, then pressed a button in the wall. A door slid open.

Rey’s skin pricked. There was something in that room. She hesitated before following Maz Kanata in. “What’s in there?”

“So you can feel it! I thought so. It seemed to be calling for you.” Kanata reverently lifted a small wooden chest, then held it out to Rey. “Open it.”

Inside, nestled on an old scrap of fabric, was a metal cylinder, not unlike the one Poe had been so excited about on the Falcon. What had he called it? A lightsaber?

It was the right size to hold, but Rey couldn’t see the point of it. Still, there was something almost alive to the thing, like there hadn’t been to the one on the Falcon.

She touched it.

It screamed.

Images passed through Rey’s mind, too quickly to be processed. A battlefield, men in blue and white armor fighting strange droids. A woman with sun-damaged skin, breath creaking slowly out of her. Blood. Lava. A room full of children.

The same children, dead.

Rey let go of the lightsaber, stumbling back from it and the woman who’d offered it to her. “That sword has done terrible things,” she said, unsure how she even knew to call it a sword.

“The first man who wielded it did, yes,” said Kanata. “But he was not the only one to carry it.”

There was more to see, Rey sensed. She reached for the lightsaber again.

Now the sword was in a desert, being handed to an oddly familiar young man. Now it was in another battlefield, slicing into an AT-AT while the hands that held it grew numb with cold. Now a glowing red blade descended on the hand holding it, and hand and lightsaber both fell down, down.

Rey opened her eyes.

“This blade first belonged to Anakin Skywalker, who became Darth Vader. It was given to his son, Luke, who used it until it was lost in battle. And now it calls to you.”

There was a lot to be said about that, but first: “Luke Skywalker is a myth.”

The woman looked amused. “Is that what people say now? His sister is just downstairs, you can ask her about him.”

“With the Resistance?”

“She leads the Resistance, child.”

Oh. Rey put the lightsaber back in its box. “I’m not a warrior,” she said. “I just fight to survive. I don’t think I should carry this sword.”

Kanata blinked at her, then pushed the wooden box into Rey’s arms anyway. “Then you will take it to whoever it is meant for,” she said, in a tone that allowed no argument. “Now come, I will take you back to where you ought to be.”

It wasn’t going to be enough.

The Hosnian system had warning of the coming apocalypse, and people were evacuating. Wedge commed to say he’d be personally flying Han and Chewbacca out.

But billions of people lived on those planets and moons. There couldn’t be enough ships for them all.

The New Republic had plans in place for evacuating planets. Leia had insisted on it, in the early days, and Mon Mothma had agreed. But those plans were for planets, not star systems. The nearest habitable planets were also under attack. Where were they supposed to go?

It wasn’t going to be enough. Takodana was too far away to get there in time. Even if they could, there weren’t enough ships. No matter what they did, people were going to die.

Still, the Resistance worked. Threepio was busy arguing with the current Chancellor about the legitimacy of the threat, because the man was a buffoon, so Leia didn’t wait to call on other entities that were close enough to help evacuate.

Mandalore was a long shot, still not a part of the Republic, but she opened a comm line anyway. A helmeted head with a painted design appeared on the holoprojector. “This is General Organa of the Resistance. I need to speak with the Mandalore,” she told them. “It’s urgent.”

“What is it?” the helmeted person asked, but another armored figure came into view.

“I’ll take this, Bo, thank you,” he said.

“Bo” left. Leia studied the new person.

He nodded to her. “General.”

“Lord Mandalore,” Leia returned.

“Your people have been avoiding mine. What’s changed?”

“We’ve gained new intelligence from the First Order. They’re planning another Alderaan,” Leia reported. “The Hosnian system is their first target. My people are too far to get there in time, but your orbit leaves you much closer. We’ve already called to start evacuations, but any assistance you can offer would be welcome.”

The Mandalore tilted his head. He might have been amused. “You didn’t ask the New Republic for permission to ask me for help, did you?”

“No,” she admitted. “I prioritize lives over politicking.” And the Resistance wasn’t officially part of the New Republic, anyway, for all that most of its operatives were citizens.

“How much time do we have?”

“Not enough. A little less than a standard day, we think.”

He nodded. “I’ll send some ships—volunteers only. I assume you’re going to destroy the weapon?”

“As soon as we can.”

“Comm when you’re planning that. We can loan you some manpower.”

Politics. Mandalore wasn’t part of the New Republic, but apparently they were willing to ally with the Resistance. Or take control of it. Leia hated this game, but she’d learned it young.

“If they are willing to follow our orders, your people will be welcome,” was all she said. Who knew? He might be entirely genuine with the offer. She’d grown too used to sensing people’s intentions, and she couldn’t read his through the comm.

The Mandalore nodded, and ended the call without a farewell.

They also had to figure out where to send all the refugees.

Naboo was willing to take some. Tattooine, too, and Leia was never going to get used to seeing Boba Fett as a government head. Some others, but fewer than she thought—hoped—wished—they’d need.

Leia didn’t get any sleep that night. Neither did most of her people—even Dameron was in the control room, carrying a pot of caf with his good hand and suggesting shipyards they could call, while his droid squealed that he was supposed to be resting.

The young Stormtrooper, Finn, hovered at the edges of the scramble. Half of Black Squadron clustered around him, asking questions and studying astronav charts. They’d be finding where the weapon was. Good.

Maz Kanata joined the crush, with a young woman holding a staff and a wooden chest. Maz dove in to preparations, offering her tavern for hosting at least some refugees. The young woman drifted over to Finn.

There was something about her—about the two of them—but there was truly no time to investigate it.

It wasn’t going to be enough. It was all they could do.

When it happened, it happened suddenly, in the early hours of Takodana’s morning.

Rey collapsed to her knees beside Finn, staff falling from shaking hands. “It’s happened,” she whispered. “It hurts.”

Finn felt it too. Pain, deep, horrible pain, and an echo of screaming somewhere far away. Not as strong as the pain around Ren and the Knights, quite, but also worse, because it was so many people. He leaned over the table, breathing hard.

They weren’t the only ones to react. The General rubbed her forehead, a single tear falling down her cheek. Kanata paled.

The other Resistance people looked between the four of them. “It’s happened?” Poe asked. His droid had finally bullied him into a seat.

The General nodded. “The Hosnian system is gone.”

“How many are dead?”

She shook her head. “That isn’t how the Force works. It doesn’t speak in numbers, just… feelings.”

“Too many,” Finn found himself saying. “But less than it could have been.”

Snap snapped his fingers. “Right,” he said. He dropped his star chart on the central table. “We’ve worked out where this weapon should be. Want me to scout it?”

“Yes. Be careful,” the General said. “Take a wingmate. Dameron?”

“Karé,” said Poe.

Snap and Karé left.

The General surveyed the rest of the room. “We’ve done all we can. If you’ve been awake less than fifteen hours, help Maz set up for the refugees. Everyone else, get some rest. We’ll need it if we’re going to take down that weapon.”

Chapter Text

Poe woke with a jolt, soaked in sweat. He blinked around the dimly lit medical room he’d been ordered to stay in, fighting to slow his pulse. 

At least he hadn’t shouted. The medical tunnel didn’t have a lot of patients tonight, but he’d have hated to wake anyone. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart pound. His mom’s ring was hard under his shirt. He was lucky the Stormtroopers hadn’t taken it. 

He didn’t feel lucky. 

Someone whispered, “Bad dream?”

Doctor Kix stood in the open doorway. 

Poe grimaced, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’ll make tea.” The man turned away into the main medical tunnel. Poe followed, wincing at the cold stone on bare feet. Where had he left his boots? He’d no idea. 

The doctor was quiet as he heated the water, added the leaves, let the tea steep. 

It was only when he handed Poe a warm mug that he asked, “So what was it about?”

“It’s muddled,” Poe said. “I don’t usually remember my dreams. Mostly things from this last mission, I think. I got captured. Wasn’t great.”

“General Organa mentioned I should check you for physical damage from a mental attack.”

“That can happen?”

“It’s not unheard of.” Doctor Kix glared into his own mug. “Different lifetime, same kriffing wars,” he muttered. 

“Different lifetime?”

Kix grinned. It wasn’t a happy expression. “You don’t know? I’d thought it would be the latest gossip.”

Poe shrugged. “Black Squadron’s out in the field a lot. I haven’t spent more than a day on base in months.” Not since L’ulo’s funeral. 

“I’m a clone,” said the doctor. “I wasn’t supposed to live this long—clones got accelerated development, so we’d be battle-ready faster. But I was frozen in stasis for a long time.” He stared into the middle distance. “It’s remarkable how little the Galaxy has really changed. The guns get bigger, the fights stay the same, and now my General’s kid is a General herself.”

Poe nearly choked on his tea. “You’re a clone, from the Clone Wars?”

“Yep. Probably the last one.” 

“That’s wizard.” Poe hoped he wasn’t grinning like a small child. “Can you tell me about the ships?”

Kix raised an eyebrow. “The ships?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve tried out some of them in sims, and they’re cool. But that’s not the same as actually being there. That era of engineering was fascinating.”

Kix looked amused. “I spent most of my time in the med bays, but I can tell you some.”

The General wanted to talk to them. Rey and Finn exchanged nervous looks, but followed the protocol droid when he asked them to come. 

The office was a small thing, smaller than Unkar Plutt’s office back at Niima. Barely room for the two of them and the General. But there was something soothing about it all the same. 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” the General said. “I’ve heard a little about the both of you, but I’d like to hear what you think is important.”

“About what?” Rey asked. 

“About you.”

“I’m not important,” Finn said. “I’m just a Stormtrooper.” 

The General smiled slightly. “A Stormtrooper who turned your back on everything you knew and saved one of my people. I find that quite important, personally.”

Finn looked down, looking uncomfortable. “Just seemed like the right thing to do,” he mumbled. 

“I scavenge old ships on Jakku. Lived there almost nine years now,” Rey said, trying to pull the attention from him. “I’m good with machines, if you need a mechanic.”

“We always need mechanics,” the General said. “Where did you live before Jakku?”

Now it was Rey’s turn to look away uncomfortably. “Don’t actually remember. I was in an accident. Got found in the sand by a wrecked ship.”

“You must have been quite young.”

“I think I was nine. I managed.”

“So neither of you has a family to go back to?”

Rey and Finn glanced at each other. 

“I was…’recruited’ when I was a baby,” Finn said. “No idea where they’d be, or if they’d even want to see me.”

Rey hesitated. Touched the holorecorder tucked into her belt. “I had a feeling, for a long time, that my family would be back for me. That I just needed to wait. But the feeling’s changed now. I think I need to find them.”

“You are both welcome to join the Resistance,” the General said, stretching her hands across the desk to pat both of theirs. “That is the first thing I wanted to talk to you about. You’d be far from the first members with complicated pasts.”

“I’ll think about it,” Finn said. 

“The first thing?” Rey asked. 

“The second thing has to do with those feelings you talked about, Rey.” Face growing grave, the General said, “You both knew, this morning, when the Hosnian system fell. You knew it without anything your physical senses could have detected to tell you it had happened.”

“Yeah?” Didn’t everyone get feelings like that?

“What do you know of the Force?”

“What, like the Knights have?” Finn asked. “Weird powers and moving stuff with your mind?”

Rey shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The General stood. “Walk with me,” she said. 

Outside, the sun shone. Little creatures flitted between trees in the canyon. A narrow river wound its way around the shipyard. Rey’s eyes were huge when the General led them to it. Finn kind of wanted to touch the water. 

“I am not the best person to explain this,” the General said, sitting on the river bank. “But I am the one who’s here, so I will do my best.”

She lifted a hand, and a ripple in the river’s surface bulged, then spat out an orb of water. The orb floated to the General’s hand, and she stared into it like it held deep answers. 

“The Force is energy, the energy that life creates. The energy that sustains life. It is in every living thing, from the little bugs in this river to the rathtars on the other side of the planet. It is in you, and it is in me. My brother says it’s even in the stars.”

She moved her hands, and the ball of water stretched into a rope, twisting in the air. “Most sentients go through life unaware of the Force. It is part of them, and necessary for them to live, but so is the air they breathe. Just as breathing is a reflex rarely thought about, their connection to the Force is not something they are aware of.”

“But some people are born with a deeper connection to the Force. We call them Force sensitive, because the first signs are often a child sensing things they should not be able to. The feelings of others around them, or the future, or the right moment to duck.” The rope of water snapped out towards them. Finn and Rey both ducked, and neither got wet. 

The General chuckled at their looks, and gathered the rope back into a ball. “You knew the Hosnian system was destroyed because you could feel the pain of all those deaths. Have you ever sensed anything like that before?”

“At target practice,” Finn said. “I always know exactly when to fire.” He hesitated before adding, “The Knights and their lightsabers. They’re in pain. I felt it every time I patrolled near them.”

Rey nodded slowly, though she didn’t give her own example. 

“Feeling the Force is an instinct you both have,” the General said. “With time, and training, you can learn to use it more deliberately. Or to connect to the Force in physical objects and beings, and affect them.” She pushed the ball of water away. It rejoined the river with a splash. “I am not much of a teacher, but I can help you understand your connection to the Force, if that is something you wish.”

“And if we don’t stay?” Finn found himself asking. 

“Then I must warn you,” the General said, face going grave. “Force sensitives are rare, and useful to those who consider people as tools. If the First Order realizes what you are, they will hunt you down, and turn you into one of their ‘Knights.’” She pinned them both with a steely gaze. “They have done it before. My own son was stolen from me. If you go out into the Galaxy, you must not let your potential be discovered.”

“Your son?” Rey whispered. 

He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t. “He’s one of the Knights now?”

“Yes. Ben Organa.”

There was just a pinch of hope in the General’s eyes as she said the name. Amazing how much you could see of a person when they didn’t have to wear a helmet all the time. Finn didn’t want to disappoint her, but he didn’t want to lie either. He shook his head. “Never heard that name before. Didn’t spend much time with the Knights.”

The General sighed. “They probably made him change his name. The Dark Side usually does.”

She may have said more, but her comm unit beeped. “General, we have a problem,” the protocol droid’s voice said.