(Author's note: After watching The Force Awakens, I wondered, "If stormtroopers live in barracks together their whole lives, how is it possible none of them are having sex with one another?" This story answers that question. It also sets up the Finn backstory for the larger Finn/Poe series I'm writing, All I Know Is Who I've Become.

This story begins with Slip having a different nickname, because I didn't like the canon explanation for Slip's incompetence. I have handled that here, too.

Yes, it's hard to write stormtrooper p*rn when none of them have names (or know useful slang words for genitals), but I managed.

-amy)

It wasn't the first time Captain Phasma had hauled the all the trainee fire-teams to a Type-1 world to run training scenarios. Retrieve the cargo package and return to base was vague enough that FN-2187 felt like he should ask clarifying questions, although none were permitted. What's in the package would have been question number one, although in this case he was sure the answer was nothing important. Come to think of it, that was probably the answer they would have received if this had been an actual mission.

FN-2187 waited in the makeshift tent barracks for his blaster to charge. According to the chrono in his helmet, he'd already been there fifty-seven standard minutes. He could deal with waiting, but it was unsettling to be out of contact with the other three members of his fire-team for that length of time. He couldn't help thinking about the all the terrible things that might be happening to them. Closing his eyes, he ran through the hand-to-hand combat sequences they'd learned last week in his head, trying to occupy his restless mind.

"Hey." FN-2187 looked up quickly at the touch on his arm. ID tags projected into his visor quickly identified the trooper as FN-1923. "Commander K-31 says your fire team's running into difficulty. He wants to know if you're ready to proceed?"

Judging by the low charge on his blaster, the answer was no, but FN-2187 couldn't exactly answer a superior officer that way. He shrugged and hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the uneasy tremor in his gut. "I guess I'd better be. This wasn't part of the drill."

"No, I think this is off-script." FN-1923's tone was dubious, but there wasn't much else she could say, not while she was on duty. "You think they're doing it on purpose, breaking up the teams like this?"

"Probably. Am I allowed to switch out my blaster for one with a better charge?"

"You really want to ask?"

He stifled a sigh. "Forget it. I have enough for a few more shots. What's the situation?"

"Unknown. Commander K-31 said your other three members are out of range. The trees are probably blocking the ground scanners."

FN-2187 ducked out of the base tent and looked around, but of course none of the troopers standing by for their own training missions would be any help here.

"Thanks," he told 1923, and she gave him a friendly nod and a wave. He tightened the strap on his ground pack and began the awkward climb back down toward the ravine where he'd left his fire-troop an hour ago.

He switched on his comm and signaled the base commander. "FN-2187, on my way to reconvene with the rest of fire-team Alpha-2."

Commander K-31's reply was prompt. "FN-2187, confirmed. Anything to report?"

He looked as far down the path as his helmet's sensors would reach, but he didn't see any signs of life. "Nothing yet, Commander. What was their last known location?"

Even before he finished his request, the data from command were streaming into his visor. He could see FN-2003 and FN-2000's blips on the holomap about halfway down the side of the ravine. FN-2199's was sixteen meters closer.

"What's your assessment?"

"Best guess is they've been held up by the vegetation, sir, but considering the lapse in communication, I'm going to proceed with caution."

The training scenario wasn't any different than it would have been in a simulation, FN-2187 told himself — but that wasn't actually true, was it? On planet, there were any number of variables that would never have been programmed into a simulator. The plants alone represented thousands more organisms than he'd ever encountered before. He had a sudden irrational urge to take off his helmet and smell the air.

Commander K-31 sounded more bored than annoyed. "Just go get them, okay?"

"It hasn't even been thirty seconds," he protested.

"I don't actually care about your arbitrary time limits, FN-2187. It's past time for thirdmeal already. Or should we cancel the scenario and send in a squadron to haul them out for you?"

"No," he said quickly. Drawing attention of any kind from command was bad enough, but losing points for failing at their training mission would be way worse. FN-2187 would never choose to sabotage his team that way. "Heading in."

"Report back when you make contact."

He switched off his communication and focused his attention on the sensors in front of him, pushing through the vegetation and stepping carefully in the mucky terrain. It was a strange sensation, the mud around his boots, almost like he was being sucked into the ground itself. The whole planet was nothing short of creepy. The animal sounds alone from the canopy were enough to give him nightmares.

"Stupid screechy things," he muttered. The first time he'd heard them, he'd told his fire-team how they made him feel. FN-2003 had laughed and told him they're just birds, but they sure didn't sound like any birds he'd ever heard on the holovids. He flinched as a particularly piercing sound overwhelmed his helmet's audio sensors, and paused for a moment to calm down.

"Okay, you can do this," he told himself. "Never mind all four of us would never actually be separated like this without our comm. Never mind that the —"

He ducked and rolled as the raptor, its wingspan wider than that of a TIE-fighter, swooped in out of nowhere. Useless stats from his visor included the fact that its talons had come within fifteen centimeters of his head.

FN-2187's armor was oozing with mud when he came out of the roll, and he clutched at a hanging vine to maintain his balance, breathing hard from more than exertion. He scanned the treetops as he unholstered his blaster, but there was no further sign of the enormous creature.

"Nines?" he shouted, abandoning any hope of maintaining stealth. "Oh-Three? Zeroes? Where are you?"

There was a scuffling sound on the path ahead, and then another one of those deafening shrieks from the creature (he would not call it a bird). FN-2187 took off through the trees, ignoring the vines that smacked into his limbs as he ran.

He encountered the creature before he saw any of the other three. It was perched in the center of the clearing, its wings outstretched, glaring with what looked like menace in its eyes. Its beak was longer than his forearm. FN-2187 eyed it nervously as he approached.

"Nice birdie," he said, holding out a pacifying hand — and fired. The creature's body knocked aside an entire young sapling as it fell.

Nines was lying prone next to a structure of stones and sticks. When FN-2187 bent to check his vitals, he stirred, groaning.

"That thing's wing packs a punch. I think it was defending its nest."

"Zeroes and Oh-Three," FN-2187 said urgently.

Nines struggled to sit up, shaking his head. "The bird knocked them off the cliff."

FN-2187 scrambled past the creature's corpse to the precipice, searching wildly for a sign of either of his fire-team mates. He caught sight of a patch of white several meters down, but there was too much rock in the way to determine further details.

"I'm going down after him." He pulled a retractor cable out of his ground pack and fixed it around a sturdy tree, then hooked the other end to his belt. "The cargo package isn't supposed to be too far along the bottom of the ravine. Wait here until I know his status, and then I'll see if I can get it up to you."

Nines nodded. There was no question in either of their minds of abandoning their mission, no matter what had happened to Zeroes and Oh-Three.

Slowly he eased himself down the side of the cliff until he was close enough to his teammate to touch him. It was Zeroes, caught in a tight place in the ravine. His helmet had come loose, dangling by its safety strap, and there was a deep gash on his cheek. He didn't appear to be conscious, but according to the sensors in FN-2187's visor, he was alive.

The emergency medisensor in his ground pack told him that Zeroes had a concussion and a broken collarbone. Rather than try to revive him, FN-2187 wedged himself into the tightest part of the ravine between his back and his legs before unclipping himself from the retractor cable.

"Zeroes is hurt, but I'm sending him up on the cable," he called. "Then I'm going down after the cargo package. If you can get him back to base, do that."

He couldn't hear the details of Nines' reply, but it sounded affirmative. That was enough for FN-2187 to proceed. Nines wasn't much of a self-starter, but FN-2187 knew he'd go along with the plan, even if it proved difficult.

FN-2187 glanced down at the ravine, still far below. The retractor cable would be strong enough to carry both him and Oh-Three's body along with the cargo package, if that turned out to be necessary, but getting back up to the cable might be the hardest part. He tried not to think too hard about it as he maneuvered himself the remaining fifteen meters or so to the ground.

It didn't take him long to find Oh-Three, stretched out on the rocky floor of the ravine. He was, miraculously, still conscious.

"That was quite a slip," FN-2187 said, trying for levity. The medisensor beeped when he ran it close to Oh-Three's left ankle.

"It's already too swollen for me to get my boot off," Oh-Three said, sounding weak and apologetic. "I wasn't sure anyone was coming after me."

"Are you kidding? You're one of us." But he hesitated. There was no way he was going to get a message to Nines from this range. FN-2187 thought he might be able to haul him back to the drop site of the cable, but on that ankle, Oh-Three definitely wasn't going to be able to climb to meet it. "Can you walk on it?"

"Not without passing out, no."

"Yeah, let's not do that." He scanned the area around them for life forms, but found none of consequence. "It's getting dark. Let me make a sweep within a half hour's range for shelter, and I'll report back."

Oh-Three nodded again. His pulse and oxygen levels read stable on the visor readout, but something made FN-2187 reach out and disconnect Oh-Three's helmet. His hazel eyes darted across the verdant landscape, and his skin, usually pale, was grey and clammy.

FN-2187 tugged off his own helmet, then one glove. He reached out and ran his fingers over Oh-Three's sweaty neck. Oh-Three's eyes fluttered shut as he shivered.

"Hey," FN-2187 said softly. He smiled encouragement, and after a moment, Oh-Three smiled back. "You're not gonna slip any more while I'm gone, are you?"

Oh-Three let out an hysterical laugh. "There isn't much further for me to go, is there?"

Depends on which way you mean, FN-2187 thought, but he just shrugged. He squeezed the tense muscles of Oh-Three's neck and glanced up at the rock and vegetation above them. "We'll get you out of here, one way or the other."

Oh-Three blanched. "I can't. I won't. Not if it penalizes the team. You lose more points —"

"We lose more points," FN-2187 said.

Oh-Three paused, then nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth tipping up. "We lose more points if we call for backup than if — if you lose me."

"Well, then." FN-2187 took a deep breath. "We won't do either one."