Hot. Very Hot.
Burning. Scorching. And….
Grainy?
One eye shot open.
Sand dunes.
The side of her face was pressed in the sand. Turning over slowly, a sharp pain shot up her arm.
"Errrrgh," she winced. Something digging into her forearm overpowered the general ache of her entire body.
Handcuffs.
She looked up from her wrists. Wreckage decorated the valley of sand.
The situation hit her.
"The others," she whispered rhetorically.
Keeping low, she crawled her way around the remains of the fallen ship. Only the creaking of settling and smoking metal could be heard in this desert spot. She jumped to her feet at the sight of a body. The helmet and other bits of his suit had been cracked open to reveal a man with an expressionless face. She placed two fingers to his neck. He had no pulse.
"One down." She breathed.
The young woman grabbed the gun from his waistbelt and started clicking its parts. Finding the firearm damaged and unusable, she continued searching through the rubble. With more confidence, she moved from a crawl to a crouching walk. The pain in her left arm hurt immensely, but she was getting used to it. Another body lay underneath what she recognized as the pilot's console. Upon closer examination, his breathing was uneven and rapid due to volume shock. A piece of metal impaled his left thigh and the wound was bleeding profusely. With a single, swift strike of her cuffed hands to the man's head, his breathing stopped.
"Two."
Feeling relieved of immediate threats, she stood up straight for the first time. Small rips and tears covered her clothing. The long sleeved tunic was a little too warm for this climate, but it protected her from the blazing desert sun. Pieces of her white blonde hair fell to her shoulders, no longer tied in the neat bun in which it once formed. She put a sharp metal edge of unidentified debris between her wrists and banged another bit of the ship until there was a POP! The chain between the bracelets broke apart, the cuffs opened, and her arms were finally released from the metal circles.
Her eyes scanned the horizon looking for any sign of life.
Nothing.
She examined the moons and planets the decorated the pale skies, but could not draw a solid conclusion.
"Fuck," She kicked a lever that once sat on the console of the ship. She took a deep breath to collect herself and closed her eyes. She turned to her left and reopened them.
"Alright, let's try this way." Tired legs led her towards more empty desert.
After walking up and over several dunes, a small dark heap appeared at the bottom of the sand mound upon which she stood. Drawing nearer, the heap took the human form. Once next to the body, she examined a man lying on his back. No fresh wounds appeared in a blood sweep of his body. Some dried blood traced the side of his face, but it didn't appear to be related to recent trauma in his journey to this current spot. She gently brushed aside short, but messy dark curls from his forehead. The tanned face of the man was not recognizable to her. His clothing did not give away any sign of what sort of people with which he associated. She searched his pockets but there were no hints.
She adjusted her position with a knee on either side of his waist. Straddling a handsome man was the last thing she expected to do today- though it would have preferably been under different circumstances. She gently shook his shoulders.
"Hey," she yelled into his face, trying to wake him. The man lay still.
"Wake up!" Her voice became annoyed, and she shook harder, "If you're gonna try to kill me with you're ship, you can at least get up! DAMN FOOL WHO CAN'T FLY A -"
She was cut off as his eyes flew open and the man gasped for air. He immediately tried to sit up to throw her off but she pinned roughly him down into the sand again.
"NAME, RANK, SERIAL NUMBER," the woman forcefully demanded, not giving him time to adjust.
"Dameron, Poe. Commander. 7-4-2…" The woman stopped listening and relaxed. She sat back onto his hips and rubbed her eyes.
Poe suddenly halted his count and asked, "Wait, what?" He looked around at the situation. The man appeared confused as to why the woman did not notice she chose an odd place to make herself comfortable.
"Who are you? Why did you ask that? Are you First Order?" He eyed her.
"You crashed into the ship I was on, I assumed you weren't First Order if they were shooting at their own tie fighter, but I had to check."
He asked, "But my serial number?"
"They have letters at the start, you-"
Poe tried to catch her off guard and reached upwards to flip who was in control. This failed terribly as she lazily pinned him down again.
"As I was saying, you must be.." She scanned his face, " Republic then?" It was a half question.
"Yes." He said, quickly. But it was almost too quickly, and she picked up on it.
"Resistance…oooooh." She said this with firm confidence. Her cooing was almost teasing. Then seriousness returned with the demanding voice, "Were their any others on your ship? Any First Order."
"Only a defecting storm trooper. He broke me out, but I assume he ended up wherever the tie fighter went." A sad expression came across his face. "You didn't by any chance see him? Finn?"
Knowing that the men she left in the sand were not Finn the defector, she shook her head, "I'm sorry."
Her mind whirred with ideas. She stood up immediately, an obvious change in demeanor. He seemed untrusting as he examined the person standing over him. Slowly, Poe moved to get up.
"So, who are you then?"
"Call me Lou." She paid Poe no attention, instead looking at the various planets and moons in the sky. "This planet is familiar. Where are we?…Is it…. Jo… Jorrnu…no no no…Jass-hooo..jar-"
"Jakku," Poe corrected her. He still was trying to grapple with what he awoke to in the desert.
"Yes! Thank you." Her eyes were calculating directions based on the new information, and then she took off in on direction. "There should be an outpost this way. I know there are a few on this side of the planet, but this is my best estimate."
"So if you're not First Order, and you don't know me…"
"Oh, someone's a big deal then?" She mocked his choice of phrase.
"I only meant-" Poe tried to backtrack.
"What side am I on?" This seemed to be a familiar question. Poe nodded.
"Neither. I do business with both so I can't take sides."
"What kind of business? Trading? Are you a merchant?" He was trying to catch up to her as she walked with purpose. When she gave no response, it came to him, "A smuggler?"
"I liked 'merchant' better." She grinned as she looked back at him.
"Do you have a surname Lou?"
"Lou is all you need."
Poe searched for something else to ask and landed on, "So if you do business with the First Order, why are they after you?"
At the top of the dune, Lou narrowed her eyes at him, deciding what to say.
"I got caught in a place I shouldn't be. Some 'troopers were turning me in. I was trying to find a way to overtake the two men on the small vessel, when a tie fighter flew from nowhere and took us down to this blasted planet. So, technically, no one should be after me now." Lou began down the next dune, "And you? What did you do end up here, besides be in the Resistance?"
"Got caught. I had information. And now I need to get a droid, I left on this planet before they do." Poe's appeared worried.
Lou tried to shift the mood, excitedly asking, "What was it like to fly a tie fighter?"
A huge smile appeared on his face, "I might join the dark side just to do it again." Lou laughed. It was the first time either of the two escapees had their guard down. The pilot then launched into an account of his short time behind the controls of the fighter. Their conversation drifted to each one's experiences piloting various types of spacecrafts, preferences, models, oddities they'd found. He revealed his roles in the Republic and Resistance armies as a pilot, leading him to ask about her own positions.
"How can you be neutral? I mean with all that the First Order does, not to mention they are the Dark Side… if you acknowledge the Force. "
"The Force has dark and light, but does not strictly fall on political boundaries. My experiences in the galaxy have taught me it is not so simple."
"But, seriously, tolerating the First Order?" He was slightly shocked.
"I do not agree with them. But living on the fringes for so long, one has another perspective. My own path has led me to have distaste on each side."
"In what ways?" his dark eyes full of curiosity
Perhaps her head had been hit too hard, or the wear of traveling in the desert weakened her, or maybe Poe's presence was friendly, but she opened up.
"My father was killed by pro-republic, early resistance extremists. He had been born into the imperial forces. He grew up and worked as a guard for one of the imperial prisons that was turned to First Order control. He befriended one of the prisoners in his block. His superiors found out about the friendship and he was told to execute her. He broke her out and they fled to a remote planet where they hoped no one would locate. They had two children, including me. When I was a teenager, his former identity was found out by the wrong people. My mother was killed trying to stop them. Then they went for him. Left with nothing, my sister and I picked up the skill of trade of the outer rim."
"Why was your mother imprisoned?"
"Her midi-cholrian count. She was tapped to be a padawan as an infant. Her master perished when she had been called into the trap that was Executive Order 66. Only a few years old, she was adopted into a family, remaining hidden for years. You can understand her choice to not join the Republic for fear she would be identified yet again and the cycle would repeat itself." She watched her feet sink into the sand with every step as she kept moving across the Jakku desert.
They continued in silence. Lou was relieved to not have to disclose any more personal stories, she had already revealed more than she usually would, especially to someone she didn't know. Poe was different. She couldn't help but trust him. The lack of conversation was not awkward, just natural.
The quiet spell was broken by Poe, "Is that the Post?" She looked up at the horizon where she saw a small town popped up amidst a sprawling desert. Both of them felt a surge of energy upon seeing a way out. The closer they got to the outpost, however, something was not right.
"There's something off," Lou said in a lowered voice to her companion. He gave her a wary look, also concluding Niima outpost had an odd feel about it. The normal bustling and noise from a trading settlement was hushed.