Descent of Death Watch
EPISODE ONE: THE CALL
"Anything on your end?" Finn asks into a commlink. He forces his boot out of a thick layer of mud before he sinks, finding a small boulder to stand on. He hears the unfamiliar squawk of a creature and shudders. He's in the thick of a dark green jungle on Dagobah, sweating through his forest gear.
"Nothin'," Poe Dameron's voice crackles through.
"You sure it wasn't an asteroid?"
"Asteroids don't give off radio signals," Poe says.
Finn jerks the commlink close to his mouth. "Yes they do."
"Finn's right."
"Thank you, Rose."
"Just keep looking," Poe says, exasperated. It isn't exactly uncommon for Poe to be exasperated these days.
Finn sighs and extends out a detector into the misty air. It's still making an annoying sort of humming sound. No beeps.
"What about you, Tico?" Poe asks.
"Eh," Rose utters. "Nothing on my end. On the plus side, I think I discovered about eight new species of things with fangs."
"That's on the plus side?" Finn narrows his eyes, bewildered. He nearly loses his footing on the slimy boulder.
"We'll keep looking for another half-hour," Poe says. "If we don't find anything, we'll call it quits."
"I'm telling you, it's…" Finn hears a rustle coming from the inside of the forest. "...nothing."
"Finn?" says Rose.
"Still with us?" Poe asks.
"Shhh shhh shhh," he utters quickly.
"What?" Rose whispers, as if the creature could hear the commlink in his ear. Finn gets a sensation in the back of his neck that's familiar to him, something between a tremor and a hum. He's always called it instinct, but he's noticed it's gotten stronger, sharper, louder, over the past few months. Now he doesn't know what to call it.
The feeling tells him, wordlessly, that something's coming. He slowly circles around on the boulder, drawing his blaster-rifle.
Coming out of a thicket of dark green leaves is a giant, slug-like creature; slimy, dark purple skin leaves a trail of goop behind it. Between yellow-brown rows of razor-sharp, it's carrying a flat gray box.
A terrible hunch washes over Finn. He points the detector discreetly toward the creature, specifically what's in the creature's mouth.
The buzz turns into a rapid beeping.
Of course, Finn thinks. He muffles the noise by shoving it into a damp inside pocket of his jacket.
There's an unpromising gulp sound.
Finn looks up; the creature has swallowed the box whole.
"Oh, kriff me," he mutters. "Guys," Finn says into the commlink. "I found the object."
"Is it an asteroid?" Poe says drily.
"I'm not sure what it is," Finn admits, keeping his voice low. "But it's inside of a giant, very threatening-looking slug."
"How big is it?" Rose asks.
"Like if a rathtar had a baby," Finn says.
"...That doesn't help me."
"It's big," Finn tells her.
He ducks on his boulder, trying to blend in. The thing starts to sniff, probably picking up on the stench that comes from being in a swamp for two hours. Finn looks down at the muddy swamp and sticks his hand into it, smearing it over his clothing to hide his scent. He still feels like he's sticking out like a smelly, sore thumb.
Finn tries to keep his hands steady as he aims his rifle at the slug.
"Be careful," Poe warns, as if he knows what he's about to do.
He can't shoot it anywhere along the creature's digestive track, for fear of destroying the box, so he aims for the head.
One, two… his finger presses down on the trigger. A white hot blast emits from the barrel, but the noise startles the (surprisingly fast) slug and it slides out of the way.
The slug catches sight of Finn with its red, beady eyes and hisses. It slinks into the mud.
Finn's pulse thrums against his neck, worried that his clammy, muddy hands will cause the blaster to slip from his grip. He can only see the creature's smooth purple back and can tell it's moving rapidly toward him.
New plan: shoot at whatever you can see of the forcedamned thing. And don't die.
He takes rapid fire shots at the creature's back, hitting it several times, but something bizarre happens every time a blast punctures the creature's skin: its skin stretches over each burnt wound, healing back as if someone had reversed time.
Finn stuffs down panic. If all he does is panic, then he's not going to come up with a plan, and then he's going to die. And he specifically ordered himself not to die.
There's a monstrous splash as the creature leaps from the swamp, drenching Finn in mud. He quickly wipes it from his eyes.
It opens its jaws, and Finn knows that if he doesn't do something in this split second that he would be joining that gray object in the creature's stomach.
He aims at the roof of the creature's mouth and shoots; he sees the blast scorch the pinkish-purple inside of the slug's mouth and leaps off the boulder, into the mud as it lands right where he was standing. It squirms a little, but then the slug's eyes roll to the back of its head and it falls dead.
Finn is shoulder-deep in muck and a little sorry for the creature, but grateful to be alive. He exhales.
Poe holds his breath as the dagger goes into the creature and cuts a straight, smooth line into the skin of its stomach.
Holding his breath doesn't help much. He gags and yanks his scarf tighter around his mouth and nose. Rose and Finn are looking away, as if the forest around them has suddenly become severely interesting.
He opens the creature's stomach with his gloved hands, seeing a gray box smack in the middle. The box has a purple, electronic glow around the rim, about the size of a small suitcase.
"I can't believe you're making me do this," he says.
"At least it's not trying to eat you," Finn points out.
Poe reaches into the slime and yanks out the box as quickly as he can, grimacing as he grazes the creature's insides.
The object is covered in blue gunk, and so is Poe's glove and sleeve. He yanks off the glove and throws it into the muddy swamp, letting it sink to the bottom.
All three of them shove the slug into the mud and watch it sink.
Poe crosses his arms. "A proper burial."
"You know, that could've been a good meal," Finn says passively.
Poe gives him a look.
Finn shrugs. "What?"
Rose is already crouched down, looking at the object intently. Her black bangs are pasted with sweat against her forehead, and her round face is covered in dirt, a small leaf stuck to her cheek.
"Might not want to get too close to that thing," Poe says.
"It's not a bomb," she says, waving him off. "It's some type of...capsule."
Rose presses a small button on the side of the box, and it automatically opens.
All three of them take a step back, not knowing what the box contains.
A holoprojection of a man from the torso up pops out, and everyone steps back even farther (it's fair to say that everyone's on edge).
He looks old-ancient old-with white wisps for eyebrows and a gleaming bald head. His eyes are bloodshot, face etched with lines, but his posture is erect. Poe vaguely recognizes him.
"Greetings," he says. His voice is clear and bold, sounding like it should belong to a younger man. "My name is Etto Tahreen, and I am the prime minister of the Yavin system."
He can't believe he forgot; Tahreen was prime minister when Poe was growing up on Yavin. His parents hadn't voted for him.
"I know we had many ideological differences during your Senate days, but I believe that we can all agree that the First Order has evolved into a major destructive force that must be stopped."
"No shit," Rose says.
"The fight against the First Order should be non-partisan, and I believe that we need to form as many alliances as possible. We must set aside our differences to face a challenge greater than all of us."
Cut to the point, Poe thinks. Why do politicians have to draw everything out?
"Our militia, who has now gone underground has tried their best to fight back against the First Order, but we find that we are weakening by ourselves, and need the help of your Resistance. I believe that, together, we could begin to rise up against the evil that is the First Order."
"Please send a representative to these coordinates." He says a string of numbers.
Poe takes a mental note. Years of piloting has given him a good memory of coordinates.
Tahreen's face goes somber. "We cannot survive this war without you." The projection flickers off, and the gray box closes with a small click.
The three of them stand silently.
It's been three months, two weeks, and four days since the Battle of Crait, since the Resistance has been in hiding. Counting things has been a habit of Finn's ever since he was young. At the First Order, they didn't tell you what day or year it was, and there was no sun to tell you the day was beginning or over, so he counted up every time they were ordered to sleep until it added up to a year. He's counted the number of asteroids he's seen pass the Millennium Falcon as it hangs in the Outer Rim (16). He's counted every planet he's knowingly been on (32).
It's a bit neurotic, but it's a way of coping. How he feels like he has some-control-over things. First as a stormtrooper, now as a member of a losing team.
He can count how many people have reached out to them since Crait (1-not a real hard number to remember).
Finn watches General Organa as she watches Prime Minister What's-His-Name plead for help. She seems intrigued, for sure, but he can't tell if she buys what the guy is saying.
The message ends and the box clicks shut, just like the first time.
The General looks at Poe, brows furrowed. Her gray hair is slicked back in a tight gray bun, and she's wearing practical brown gear. She looks like she's ready for a mission at any moment, besides the staff that she's still using from the injury she acquired on the Raddus. (It's very important that you call it a staff. Finn called it a cane once and almost got smacked in the face.)
"Do you remember Senator Tahreen?" The General asks.
Poe looks up in thought. "Yes. He was terrible."
"Terrible how?"
"He stayed completely neutral during the war, selling weapons to both sides," Poe says. "He racked up enough credits to buy his way into being Prime Minister. Why is he picking sides now?"
"Either the First Order isn't working in his favor," She fidgets with the ring on her finger, shaking her head. "Or this is all a lie."
"But if this is the First Order," Poe says, "why even bother dragging us out? We're small-why take the time to drop a message on Dagobah when you can just obliterate the Falcon and be done with it?"
"Sometimes blowing things up in the best answer," Rose says, contrasting Poe's main war philosophy. "Maybe they know we've got people looking for allies, and they want information on that."
"And even if this isn't the First Order," Lieutenant Connix chimes in, "we have more enemies besides the First Order."
Poe finds a stray leaf in his hair and flicks it away. "Good point."
Finn shuffles in his seat. The Resistance crew is currently in the lounge of the Millennium Falcon, which has become the unofficial briefing room. The gray box sits in the middle of the Dejarik table, around which Rose, Poe, Connix, D'Acy, Threnali, Chewbacca, and Finn are sitting. The General is standing, and Poe is leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. Swamp stench is still lingering in the air, although they each spent about twenty minutes trying to scrub it off. (Rey is off to find allies, and to rebuild her lightsaber on some journey that he doesn't have the spiritual knowledge to understand but support anyway.)
"I wish he was a trustable person…" the General says.
"...But he's not," Finn says, disappointed.
"He's not."
"But there is a possibility that he's telling the truth," Finn says.
She nods in reason. "A possibility."
D'Acy looks at Finn, then at the General. "A very slim possibility." Her pointed nose sniffs. She doesn't like Finn very much; he guesses that being a former stormtrooper and disobeying direct orders and technically being a part of a mutiny leaves a bad taste in some people's mouths.
Finn points at the box. "If this is an actual distress call and we don't take it, then what does that mean for the Resistance? What does that mean for Yavin?"
"Desperate decisions tend not to be the best decisions," Threnali says, wide-set small black eyes looking at Finn.
"I'm not being desperate," he says firmly. "I just think we should do our jobs."
"We've been doing our jobs, Major," D'Acy says, offended. "We're just being careful."
"We've been careful for a long time," Poe says evenly.
"For someone who's lived longer than you, three months isn't a 'long time'," the General says.
Three months, two weeks, and four days, Finn corrects in his mind. He feels heat rise in his face, which isn't a good sign. "Do you know how much damage the big guys can do in a day while we do nothing? In a week? In three damn months?"
"Finn-" Poe says warily.
"Do you know how easy it is to mess up what little we have?" Leia presses her hand on the table. "If we're not careful, there'll be nothing left to fight off the 'big guys.'"
Finn exhales and drops his shoulders before he replies. He wants to be calm so the General takes him seriously. "Anything has the capacity to be a trap, but we can't abandon what we stand for. If someone needs help, we help them-right?"
He notices a proud look from Poe. Then he sees that he's formulating some type of scheme in his head. Finn's gotten to know that look.
"Just send me," Poe says to the General.
Chewbacca lets out a throaty laugh.
"What?" Poe tilts his head at him.
"You don't have a diplomatic...personality," Connix says, trying to let him down easy.
"It won't be like Gatalenta," says Poe.
"It'll be exactly like Gatalenta," says Connix.
Rose perks up. "What happened on Gatalenta?"
"He punched a diplomat in the face…" The General sounds tired.
"Did he deserve it?" Rose asks innocently. "What did he do?"
"I know he deserved it," Poe says. "...I don't remember what he did."
Finn gives Poe a look that says You're not helping, then pipes up: "I'll tag along."
"As his anger management assistant?" Connix says drily.
"As his partner," Finn says. "We balance each other out."
The General brings her hand to her chin, brown eyes deep in thought.
"I can really do this by myself-" Poe starts.
"No, no. You need someone to keep you in check. And to protect you," she interrupts.
They exchange knowing glances, like they're having a silent, three-second conversation with each other. They do that a lot, Finn's noticed, and he can never pick up on what they're conveying.
Finn finds himself offended. Why wouldn't Poe want him to come with?
The General presses the button on the box again, watching the message over again. She studies it intensely, the blue light tinting all of their faces.
Yet again, it closes with a click.
Finn crosses his fingers under the table.
"Well?" Poe says after a few seconds of silence.
She lets out a small sigh and glances at the two of us. "It's worth a shot."
Finn and Poe exchange smiles, both triumphant and surprised.
Poe has missed solid ground. Which is weird for him, because whenever he's been on solid ground before, he kept looking up at the sky, wanting to be there instead.
They've been on Dagobah for a week now, the Falcon perched in a cove by a long expanse of marsh. The ship's got a little fuel left to jump to lightspeed, taking them about halfway to where he and Finn need to go. From there they'll find another ship-probably from some old acquaintances that Poe really, really, really didn't want to see again-and head to the Yavin System.
Poe's fond of Dagobah, the sticky, humid, foul-smelling mudball of a planet. It's peaceful, and it's the first planet Poe's been on in awhile where it doesn't seem like the First Order is breathing down the Resistance's neck.
It's a particularly odd evening for the planet, because it actually looks...beautiful. The setting sun is making a rare appearance through the clouds, casting a yellow glow on the mist that fills the air.
Once the sun sets, it'll be too dangerous to stay out here. Strange noises will emerge from behind the tall trees and nocturnal creatures will be looking for things to eat, and most of them aren't opposed to eating humans. So Poe is making the most of the time he has left.
He's perched on a stone slab near the water. His orange-and-white spherical droid, BB-8, is by his side on low-power mode.
Poe takes a sip of the drink in his hand, a Corellian whiskey that he found on the ship...and stashed away for himself. Finders keepers. The dry, spicy-sweet alcohol burns down his throat.
He hasn't been to the Yavin System since he was eighteen. Not for any mission, not for anything. Luckily, it seems like his home system has stayed away from him as much as he's stayed away from it.
It's not like he doesn't have any happy memories there. It's just that they're outweighed by a few very bad memories.
Poe finds himself running his thumb along the smooth surface of his mother's wedding ring. It's hung on a chain around his neck for a long, long time, and he intends to keep wearing it until he finds the right partner to give it to. It's a comfort item, a protective charm, and whenever it's off he feels the ghost of a chain around his neck.
He's wary about Finn tagging along with him. Don't get him wrong-he thinks Finn is capable. His friend spent the first twenty-three of his life training for war and nothing else as a stormtrooper. That gives him some lacking social skills, but he makes up for it by being an excellent soldier.
But he finds himself becoming increasingly protective of his friends. He keeps replaying his mistakes as a member of the Resistance-especially the mutiny that killed many of his fellow members, that contributed to how meager the Resistance is now. He thought he was helping, but he was being arrogant. Selfishly dragging people into danger because he thought he knew what was best.
Now he's determined to protect his people however he can. He'd rather go alone and risk his own life more than have Finn protect him.
"He's just like you, you know."
Poe startles and looks behind him.
Leia's standing with both hands rested over her staff, looking more serene than usual. She likes Dagobah, too.
"Who?" he asks, though he's sure of the answer.
"Finn," she says. "When you first started out. He's impulsive. Battle-ready."
Poe looks back at the water, watching a piece of driftwood along the murky water. "We all start out that way."
Leia walks over toward where he's sitting and motions for him to scoot over. He does, and she sits down next to him, resting her staff on the side of the stone slab.
"Are you sure you're the best person for this mission?" she asks gently.
"I'm sure," he tells her.
"I know you have a history with the Yavin System. I'm afraid personal feelings are going to get in the way."
"It's not my favorite system," he says. "But I can handle it. And it won't be like Gatalenta this time. You have my word."
"Even if he really deserves it?" Leia teases.
"...Even if he really deserves it."
Leia smiles and joins him in looking at the calm water.
"You know," Poe starts, "I don't need Finn to go with me."
"He's going with you."
"Don't we need to protect as many people as we can right now?" Poe says. His index finger scratches as the surface of the stone. In his peripheral vision, he sees Leia studying him.
"You need protection just as much as anyone else," she assures him. "And Finn didn't sign up to be cooped up in the Falcon."
"I know he didn't," he says. "It's just-everything seems...fragile, right now."
Leia lets out a deep breath. "That's because it is."
Poe's shoulders slump. The sun is getting low.
She pats him gently on the back and stands up, surveying the horizon one last time. "But I trust you, Poe. I've always trusted you."
Poe's not sure how he's earned that trust, but he's glad to have it. "Thank you, General."
Leia grabs her staff and plants it onto the ground. "Don't stay out here too long. You've got a mission in the morning."
"I know, General."
Finn is someone else, someone he's connected to but doesn't know, in a memory that's familiar to him but doesn't belong to him. Grief fills his bones but he doesn't know why. He's simultaneously observing and experiencing. His surroundings are vague and undeveloped, but he reaches out for something. Slowly, that something materializes in his hand: a gleaming helmet of black and gold. It doesn't belong to the mind he's inhabiting, but it belongs to Finn, the observer. The longer he holds the mask, the heavier the grief becomes. It feels physically painful, like someone is adding a crushing amount of weight to his back.
He falls to his knees, bringing the helmet to his head, and collapses into a shell. The pain is crushing him. It's too heavy. It's too heavy. But he won't let go, won't let go of what belongs to him.
Finn jolts up in his bunk, panting and bewildered, at the crossroads of subconscious and reality. He looks down and half-expects the black and gold helmet to still be in his grasp, but his hands are empty.
It was just a dream, he tells himself as he runs his hand over the Falcon's cool metal wall. It was just a dream.