A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

"Watch it!"

A bomb detonated to my right and I saw a Stormtroopers familiar bucket helmet fly off of the trooper and land next to me in my hiding place. I slid further into spot, determined not to be seen.

"91! Shoot! Shoot!" A voice boomed next to me, shaking me out of my thoughts and back to the action. I pulled out my blaster and aimed at the enemy in front of me. I had a perfect clear shot.

"What are you waiting for!" The voice screamed again and shots fired above and around me. "You're going to get us killed!

"I'm trying!" I screamed back, still aiming, still not shooting. Someone jumped next to me, grabbing my blaster, and shooting at our enemy - a fatal shot.

"Thanks, FN-2003," I gasped when he thrusted the blaster back to me. He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder before running back out into the action.

"Simulation over," The robotic voice boomed over the room. The resistance, x-wing starfighters, and all of the holographic weapons instantly disappeared. I looked up from my post and saw my comrades lifting themselves up from the floor of the training room, adjusting their training blasters and their helmets, askew from the practice battle. Hearing the familiar clink of metal shoes, I scrambled to my feet and got into formation along with the rest of my squadron. Captain Phasma of the First Order stood at the front of the training room. Her immense power was palpable and I had to resist the urge to shudder under my direct leader.

"Your overall performance was," Captain Phasma started dryly, pacing in front of the group of cadets, her chrome suit blinding in the hologramatic lights. "...adequate."

There was a collective sigh of relief from my team and I could feel droplets of sweat forming under my helmet as I tried to catch my breath. "Adequate" was as high of a compliment that Phasma was able to give. You could feel the tension in the room as we were waiting on her orders. Over the past few days, there was a sense of urgency and pressure that was apparent on the ship. Having this intense of a simulation was not a good sign and I feared the worst.

"As you are all apart of one of the top squadrons in all of the magnificent First Order, I'm sure all of you have noticed our change of course," the Captain's magnetic voice radiated throughout the room, sending chills up and down my spine. "Tomorrow, we have a mission on Jakku."

I furrowed my brow. What could we possibly need on that worthless desert planet? I thought shrewdly. We had been stationed in the outer-rim, which I prefered. It was safer, quieter. Going to the inner rim seemed like a suicide mission.

"We will be giving you further orders when we arrive in the Jakku system. I expect all of you to perform at the magnitude and power that I expect from my top cadets. Anything less and there will be dire consequences. FN Corps, at ease; you are dismissed until our mission tomorrow."

Murmuring erupted in the training room full of tentative excitement. This was not our first mission, but we could tell this would be our most important.

"Let's go."

I heard the familiar voice of my closest friend, FN-2187. His warm tone, muffled by the helmet, was calming. We needed to talk about what happened in the simulation. I knew that he couldn't keep covering for me but I knew he would help me form a plan before tomorrow's mission.

"FN-2187 and FN-2191 stand back," Phasma stated, stopping the two before they were able to leave the training room.

"Nevermind, then," he mumbled under his breath as we turned around to face Phasma.

"FN-2187. You performed well in the simulation, per usual," she stated simply turning to look at him.

"Thank you, captain," he responded.

"On the other hand," Phasma said, turning to look at me. Even through her metallic mask, I could feel her eyes burning into me with intense disappointment. "FN-2191, you are consistently the weakest link. You have made me regret bringing you on to my division, the greatest in all of the First Order I may add. Your aim is the best on this squadron, if not this entire base, but the fact that you hardly ever shoot is a problem that needs to be addressed. When I saw your weaponry skill, I assumed you would be able to be trained to be our best sharp shooter, but I fear I should have left you to rot in our technology division."

I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes, eternally thankful I was hidden behind my helmet. Like every other cadet in our squadron, I was taken from my family when I was young. The only thing the First Order gave me was my name, FN 2191. As I grew older, I realized I had a gift for technology and was asked to join the technology division at once to assist in building one of the many weapons that the First Order was curating. After an incident regarding a rogue blaster, Phasma brought me on to her division to train under her command with the hope I would become the top shooter in the First Order.

"I have seen your little…" she spat bitterly, pausing to stare at us, "friendship, or whatever you prefer to name it, getting stronger. I see how you both attempt to aid each other more than your comrades. Friendship has no place in our war. It makes us weak. But I have disregarded it because I assumed, wrongly, that FN-2187 would influence you and bring out your talent."

I moved to speak, but her hand shot up to stop me.

"And don't you dare insult my intelligence and attempt to convince me that I am mistaken. Our mission to Jakku is tomorrow and there is absolutely no room for error. We are only as strong as our weakest link, and you, FN-2191, are our weakest link. General Hux has also been made aware of your inability shoot a simple hologram. It would be wise of you to use your talent to protect the great First Order, or you will suffer dire consequences. That's an order from your commander."

Captain Phasma turned on her heel and stormed out of the training room, her boots rhythmically clicking against the waxed floor. The door slid open and closed tightly behind her.

"91," FN-2187 said, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You're the best shot in our entire squadron. By far." He reached his gloved hands to his helmet, took it off, and placed it on one of the simulation tables. "I don't want Plasma to keep harping on you."

I sat down on the ground and placed my helmet in my hands in defeat. "I don't know what I'm going to do, 87. I can't shoot anyone! I can't even shoot a damn hologram," I said, my voice shaking. "I just don't know what I'm going to do…"

"Take off your helmet," 87 said gently, kneeling down next to me.

I shook my head, trying to hold back my tears. "No, 87. I'm not going to take off my helmet. I … I just want to stop being so useless in front of Phasma. I'm sick of being so weak!"

"You're not useless 91!" He said, reaching towards me and taking off my helmet. I felt my hair, matted from the sweat and the helmet fall out of the bun I had put it in this morning. I could feel strands stuck to my face and hot tears running down my face. "And you sure as hell aren't weak."

"I am weak and you know it," I said angrily. I hastily wiped the tears from my eyes and grabbed my helmet back from my friend. "How many troopers can say they feel guilty shooting a hologram? A damn hologram!" Hurriedly, I tried to put my helmet back on, but 87 grabbed my arms.

"That doesn't make you weak," he said, he deep brown eyes piercing mine. "That just means you have heart."

"Heart," I spat bitterly, pulling away from him. "Heart isn't going to help me on Jakku. Having heart is going to get me killed." I pulled my helmet back and walked towards the exit.

"Hey!" He yelled, running towards me. "You know what they are going to do to you if you show any sort of cowardice tomorrow, right?"

I stopped when I reached the door. "Do you think I don't know?" I said in barely a whisper. "Sometimes I think death would be better than this place."

"91 -"

"I'll see you tomorrow, 87," I interrupted, walking out of the training room.

I have got to get my shit together.