Leia's expression was pained, but Isla still glared at her. She'd been angry for the better half of her life, and those emotions, however tampered, easily bubbled up to the surface in a fiery rage.
"Isla."
Silently, she straightened up, eyes never wavering.
"We're not going to leave him there." Leia locked her gaze on Isla for a moment before briefly looking at some random monitors.
Isla sensed she wasn't finished.
"But at this point we have no intel on where they could've taken him. As big as it may be, the Finalizer is hard to pin down and even harder to infiltrate. We've only done it once before, but that was...before. We have to think about the map."
Damn the map, Isla wanted to shout.
"General—" Inhaling sharply, Isla stretched her hand out to steady herself on the back of her chair. She felt light-headed.
"I know all of this can be very difficult to hear," Leia paused. "Which is why I ask that you leave the meeting."
"No." Isla stood up straighter, feeling her limbs begin to shake again. "No."
"Isla—please. Go calm down for a while. If you don't, you're going to make some rash decisions. You will be debriefed on the plan as soon as we have one."
Leia reached out to Isla, resting her hands on the younger woman's forearms before pulling her into a warm embrace. Isla stiffened, too angry with this woman, who had become so much like a mother to her, to appreciate that Leia was only thinking of her well being.
"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, but we have to think of the larger—" Leia was trying to chose her words carefully, but she wasn't able to finish the thought.
Isla turned tightly and calmly walked out of the Control Room, ignoring the Leia's apologies. Once the open air hit her lungs, she began to sprint to the barracks until she reached their small living quarters. She flung the door open and rushed inside as tears streamed down her face.
Isla needed to pull herself together. That, and a really strong drink. She fumbled around in the trunk at the foot of their bed for the bottle of Cheedoan whiskey. After hastily unscrewing the cap, she took a sloppy, frantic swig. Some of it dripped onto her uniform.
Isla had heard of Kylo Ren, and while the thought of Poe being held at his mercy didn't exactly sit well, she was worried about someone else.
When she closed her eyes, she could feel his breath on her skin as he stroked her cheek.
Forging clearance codes.
That's what the First Order charged her with when they'd pulled her out of the bar across the street from the main Corellian spaceport and arrested her. People wanted out from under the First Order's thumb and they were willing to do whatever it took. Of course, when they went down, they took Isla with them. Cowards. While it was true that she had no real allegiance, she wasn't a snitch.
Isla refused to go quietly, and because of her actions, she spent her first two months in solitary confinement.
Upon her release into gen pop, she'd been able to catch a tiny sliver of moonlight before being dragged into a sterile, windowless interrogation room. Her records, she was told, were of some interest to the First Order. She could be of use in more important efforts. Isla weighed her options as the man who had introduced himself as General Hux watched her from the across the table with a pinched expression. She disliked him instantly.
Isla knew her chances of ending up dead either way were pretty strong, but if she agreed, it might buy her enough time to figure out her next move. If she worked quickly. So she nodded in affirmation, the early workings of a plan already forming in her mind.
Hux's lips curled into a smug smile as he rose to his feet.
"Excellent." He stepped toward Isla, reaching out to stroke the side of her face with an air of entitlement. She recoiled, but he didn't seem to mind. "I think you'll find that we can actually be quite hospitable toward our own."
On that, Hux's statement was somewhat correct. His particular fondness for Isla served her well, for the most part. Under his watch, she was given slightly more leeway than other prisoners. She didn't have her own cell, but the one she was moved into was much nicer than what she'd become used to—hell, it was nicer than any place she'd lived since her teens.
Her roommate was a young Zeltron nurse who had been charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive. All she had done was treat a patient who happened to be a rebel. While the First Order was disgusted with her, Tendra was quite adept in the field of medicine so they kept her around in case they needed her.
Each woman was given regular [monitored] bathing privileges, as well as semi-decent food. Isla knew this generosity wouldn't come without a price, but so far it hadn't been named.
One morning, she was marched out her cell and into the control room that contained—by far—the nicest equipment Isla had ever laid eyes on. If the First Order could afford this, they could certainly afford a better slicer than she. But Isla did what she was told, ready for her opportunity.
They wanted her to break Resistance code. Every transmission they'd been able to get their hands on was heavily, heavily encrypted.
Isla's stomach dropped. This was nothing. She'd be dead in a month.
"Best to hurry," Hux said into her ear as he gripped Isla's shoulder. "This is time-sensitive material."
Isla knew what she had to do.
To Hux's satisfaction, Isla had decrypted the transmissions within a few days. Isla tried her damndest to stretch it out, but it was too easy. The information, however, was sparse. The Resistance was looking for a map, but what the map lead to hadn't been disclosed. This relieved Isla a little—she'd done what had been asked of her, but it hadn't made a difference. It meant that she was still needed.
She was laying in her cell one night when the Navy pilot from Corellia crossed her mind. She wasn't sure why, exactly. It had been years since their encounter. He was ready to be a hero, but his earnestness had struck her. Isla was positive he'd been recruited into the Resistance by this point—if not recruited, he surely had joined on his own volition. She wasn't necessarily gambling on it, but maybe it could help her out once she got things rolling.
...
Throughout the following weeks, Hux would convince himself that Isla wasn't being truthful—that she was hiding something. Hux didn't like it when his insecurities broke the surface (which they often did), so he overcompensated in other ways. This, Isla learned, was his price.
"What good would that do me?" Isla snarled, spitting at Hux as shoved her against the wall of her cell. The shackles she'd received after the previous day's incident limited her retaliation. "I don't know what kind of trash you normally hire for this kind of work, but I'm not stupid."
He slapped her across the face. Though her cheek stung, she glared at him in defiance. The second blow drew blood, but Isla was unmoved. She could take a beating, and she had proven it to Hux time and time again.
Hux gripped her neck and pressed her up against the wall. His sneer lingered as drew his face close to her skin.
"Do not make the mistake of thinking you're indispensable."
He let her drop to the ground, giving her a solid kick once she landed. Isla watched him stroll out of the room, deciding that it was about time to send out her distress call.
She just hoped someone was paying attention.
In a blind rage, Isla threw the empty bottle at the wall, breathing heavily as she watched shards of glass fall to the floor. Dissatisfied, she overturned the small table beside their bed, flinging its contents across the room. The lamp hit the wall with a pleasing crash, but it still wasn't enough.
After assessing the wreckage, Isla sank to her knees and sobbed.
Poe's legs gave out once he was released from holding, but he'd be damned if he let the Stormtrooper drag him down the hallway. He mustered up his remaining strength and held his own as he glanced around, sussing out his options. There was little Poe hated more than this ship and the psychopaths it carried.
The Stormtrooper stopped suddenly, pushing Poe into a small room.
"Listen carefully," the trooper said. "If you do exactly as I say, I can get you out of here."
Convinced he'd misunderstood, Poe furrowed his brow. He was hazy, but he wasn't hallucinating just yet.
"What?"
"This is a rescue. I'm helping you escape. Can you fly a TIE fighter?"
Poe looked him up and down.
"You're with the Resistance?"
"What? No, no, no. I'm breaking you out—can you fly a TIE fighter?"
"I can fly anything," Poe asserted. "Why? Why are you helping me?
"Because it's the right thing to do."
Poe didn't buy it for a second, but he didn't care—it wasn't an opportunity he was going to pass up.
"You need a pilot."
"I need a pilot."
A deserter. The Force worked in mysterious ways.
"We're gonna do this."
The rogue Stormtrooper marched him to the hangar, past other troopers and higher-ranking officers. Poe felt surprisingly calm. His luck had completely shifted—it was more than he could've hoped for.
They ducked into a gleaming TIE fighter. When he started it up, the scream of the twin engines was absolutely exhilarating. After a few attempts, the cable docking the sleek starfighter ripped off. Shots rang, but Poe avoided them with the trooper's help on the guns.
"What's your name?"
"FN-2187."
Poe wanted to say, fuck that First Order kark, but instead he said he was going to call him Finn. FN-something something found the new name agreeable enough and shouted back.
"Good to meet you, Poe!"
"Good to meet you too, Finn."
Cannons aimed right at their TIE fighter but he outflew them all, letting Finn handle the others closing in around them. They argued briefly about their destination, but—as grateful as he was—Poe wasn't really listening to a word Finn said. He was the one in control now, and he had to get back to Jakku to find BB-8.
Poe flipped the switch on the comm and punched in the base's code. Just as he made contact, he began to lose control of the fighter. They'd been hit.
"Come in," he shouted, doing everything he could to make their landing as soft as possible. "This is Commander Poe Dameron! If you can hear me, we are making a crash landing on Jakku—."
His connection was lost as the fighter careened toward the desert surface, but Poe wasn't worried about his odds.
Someone had heard him.