"What?" Poe asked, flabbergasted.

"I'm not sending it. Send one to your Resistance allies."

"Wait, what? Why?"

"So they can come pick you up."

"But, I mean …" Poe shook his head. "I mean, yeah, but why aren't you sending one to the Order?"

"I lost my own capital ship. I can't even explain why. All I have is conjectures. It wasn't in battle against insurmountable odds – just a few x-wings whose strafing runs couldn't be borne without shields, and raising shields overtaxed whatever delicate equilibrium we had in the power system."

"Did you send out fighters?" The strategic breakdown didn't matter much, but it helped him visualize the chain of events.

"Yes, of course I did! But I also raised the shields. It's standard procedure and I didn't know it would cascade into destroying the entire ship!"

"Okay. Got it." He wondered what had happened to the stranded TIE pilots while he and Hux had been stuck planetside. He supposed they'd been rescued along with whoever picked up the escape pods. Or maybe the x-wings had finished them off. Seemed kind of uncharitable once the destroyer had gone up. X-wings had hyperdrives. TIEs usually did not.

Hux huffed. "That would be a career-ending situation for most. But it's not all. I lost Starkiller Base. A dreadnought over D'Qar. I was the fleet commander over Crait and we lost seventeen destroyers there, give or take a few, depending on one's definition of 'lost'. And of course, the Supremacy itself was under my direct command when it was split." He looked at Poe. "The only reason they'd want me back is to make an example of what comes to such incompetence."

"Um …" Well, that was a damning record, but it wasn't like Poe didn't have a few horrific mistakes on his own. He'd also been (cough, cough) responsible for inflicting most of those on Hux's career. "Wouldn't that be up to Kylo Ren?"

Hux shrugged. "He hasn't been taking much of a hand in anything that's not Force-related. Snoke was much the same. I'm dead to them all now. I have had time to consider the political ramifications. The High Command will not re-instate me. And I will not stand to be demoted, court-martialed, or otherwise made into a scapegoat for the Hosnian system. I am done."

Poe wiped at his face, trying to process this. It wasn't entirely out of the blue, but he hadn't expected this quick a turn. "Are you … defecting?"

Hux scowled. "I'm telling you to send your transmission. As you said, there's little chance they'll get it. But you may as well try."

"Is this because I kissed you?"

"Go!" Hux pointed toward the water. "I may yet change my mind."

"Okay." Poe stood, grinning. "Can I kiss you again?"

"If you must."

Poe knelt. "I must," he said softly. He gave Hux a lingering kiss and then waded out, adjusting the breather as he went. A few moments later, Hux followed. He stood guard while Poe typed in his message and sent it out as far as the pod's system could throw it. He hoped it was enough.

Once back on shore (and leeches removed), Poe said, "You sure you don't want to, you know, at least double our chances of rescue?"

"It's not 'rescue' if they're going to kill one of us and court-martial then execute the other."

They started walking away. "Okay. You seem really certain of that. But if they didn't end your career for all that other stuff, then why would they now?"

"Because I wasn't declared dead after 'all that other stuff'. I don't have an entire star destroyer of moderately loyal officers backing me up. By now, I'm out. To bring me back will require explanations and paperwork and it would be a great deal easier just to have me quietly go back to being dead. It wouldn't even be murder. You don't understand the politics of the Order. Sometimes the best strategic decision is to avoid the conflict altogether."

He sounded bitter and angry and like he was trying to convince himself of his reasons. Poe reached out and took his hand. Hux looked at him attentively. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to give you affection and support."

Hux looked down at their joined hands. He didn't let go. "I don't need it."

"I'm going to give it anyway."

Hux squeezed his hand slightly, shifting his grip to something more comfortable. But he didn't let go.

Back in camp, Hux was quiet and spent his time gathering firewood. Poe tried the amino acid profiler on some likely plant choices. Most came back as technically edible (meaning he wouldn't die from eating them), but not nutritious (meaning they would taste like recycled fiber). Others weren't even that. He had a meal bar for dinner instead. Neither of them trusted the remaining meat from the gundark-thing, which had begun to smell bad. Hux carried the stinking legs away from camp on one of his trips to get wood.

"Wait," Poe said when Hux returned, "what am I going to do?"

Hux looked at him like he was daft. "What do you mean, 'what are you going to do'?"

Poe brushed away the feeling that he really should have thought about this an hour or so earlier. "If the Resistance picks us up, and we drop you off somewhere, what am I going to do?"

"Go off and fight in the Resistance, I suppose." Hux bent and washed his hands in the pool.

"But … would you come with me?"

"You mean, will I take up arms against the First Order and help kill the people I served with?"

"Um … yeah."

Hux sat near him, taking the meal bar Poe extended to him. "What has Finn done?"

"Um … took up arms against the First Order."

"What?" Hux looked confused. Poe shrugged. Hux asked, "He's killed members of the Order? Intentionally?"

"Yeah. Ten or twenty maybe. I haven't really kept track."

Hux swallowed in revulsion. "That's disgusting. So much for his conditioning."

Poe shrugged again. "You conditioned him to be a killer. He is. Just somewhere along the line, you lost control of who he was killing. Or why. Now he makes his own decisions."

Hux rolled his eyes. "Well, fine. The answer is no, I will not join you in fighting the First Order. I have more morals than that. I thought he defected for ideological reasons. Turns out he's just a traitor through and through."

"Hey, don't say bad things about Finn. He's my friend."

"Fine. Drop me off somewhere, if it comes up, and go back to the Resistance to be with your 'friend'."

Poe smiled tightly at this indication of jealousy and wiped his mouth to conceal it. "No. I … think I'd like to come with you."

"What of the Resistance?"

"They'll get by without me. But where are you going to go? What will you do?"

"I have no idea. If I can live here," he cast a hand at their surroundings, "if you can call this living, then I can live on most worlds. Or here, if your rescuers are unwilling to take me with you. Assuming there are such 'rescuers'."

"Yeah," Poe said with a sigh. "Well, if there are, we're both going."

"You might not have a say in that."

"No, I will. Unless they stun me and drag me off unconscious, it's either both of us or neither."

Hux nodded slowly. He reached out and took Poe's hand almost furtively. They sat together quietly for a while, until Poe asked, "Is there any way that escape pod can regain orbit?"

"No."

"Huh. How much power do you think is left in the auxiliary systems?"

"Not enough for that. We could manage short flights, but lifting that much mass in this sort of gravity field will burn through what fuel we have quickly. They're not designed for extensive maneuvers."

"Yeah," Poe said, "that's what I was afraid of." They spent the rest of the evening drawing diagrams in the dirt and planning out their repairs for the next day. When it was dark, they climbed in the shelter. Hux sealed it behind them and turned the camp light on low. As they stretched out on the floor, Poe said, "Ah, we're alone again together." He stroked Hux's forearm – the one without the knife scabbard.

Hux huffed. "We're always alone together here. That's the essence of being stranded." He moved a knee between Poe's and scooted closer, insinuating one arm under Poe's. He watched Poe's face with the sharp attention of one who expected to be turned away.

Poe drew him close and kissed him. "Lucky for us, then." He kissed him again.

When they parted a second time, Hux asked, "Why did you pull away last night?"

"I remembered you taking my chin when I was in the interrogation chair. Not a good memory."

"Am I to take from your kisses today and your expression of regret this morning that you had a change of heart?"

"I guess so. I didn't really think it through. It's just how I feel." He leaned forward and kissed Hux briefly before Hux pulled back.

"That seems rather changeable." Hux's brows drew together in concern.

"I'm of the point of view that a person shouldn't overthink their feelings. You should trust them instead."

"I hadn't even made my choice yet not to return to the Order. You had feelings even then?"

"Yes."

"What would you have done had I not left them?"

Poe sighed. "That's thinking a little further forward than I was doing. I've been more concerned with staying alive day to day. If the First Order shows up, I'll figure it out then."

Hux snorted softly. "If they were, they would have already."

"Then we're free."

Hux seemed amused by that. He stroked Poe's shoulder with the fascination of someone who didn't get to touch other people much. Poe kissed him again. They embraced. They touched and held and stroked one another. That was the extent of it. Poe was content to fall asleep in Hux's arms.

The next morning went swiftly, consumed with work that ended in early afternoon when Poe set down the drained and somewhat operational escape pod in the tall grass of the clearing. It smelled of lake water and burned circuits, but since both of them did as well, it didn't seem that bad. Hux said, "I'll check our gear," and left through the rear hatch, which had been stuck open all day. It was on the list of things that needed to be fixed.

They'd replaced all the floor hatches and the control panels needed for flying the thing, but the ones for environmental controls and communications were still stowed off to the side. The air recyclers would probably take days to dry out enough to use and there wasn't much point in having the comm system on. Neither of them had a communicator and there wasn't anyone else on this rock to talk to.

Still. There might be soon. Poe picked up the panel and gave it a shake to knock off any stray drops of water, then popped it back into socket. Lights came on and then off, which was normal when power was restored. Two lights stayed on, blinking. He popped it back out, shook it again, dried the contacts, and blew on the sockets it fit into. Components regularly worked fine while sealed, but once opened to the elements, they could get finicky about environmental factors. He put it back in. Same thing.

He started to repeat the process, then realized which lights were on. The pod was registering an incoming signal. He tried to bring it up, but the screen showed only static and the audio produced nothing at all. Was it just a malfunction? Or was it real? "Hey, Hux! Come here! You said you served as a comm officer, right?"

Hux came in. He'd put his clothes back on (they'd worked underwater in only underwear again). He was carrying his boots and socks. "Yes?"

"Look at this. Tell me what that is." Poe stepped aside.

Hux tried different settings, but the screen remained fuzzed. "It's just water," he said. "Must have contaminated one of the contacts when we pulled it out to get at the controls for the maneuvering jets. Let's pull it out and dry it." He touched the two blinking lights and shot Poe an uncertain look. He knew what those lights meant.

"I already tried that." They did it anyway. Hux took a sock and dried several circuit receivers. They put it back in. Lights came on, went out, the blinking continued. The screen lit up clear this time.

Hux tapped controls. His expression flattened. He turned to Poe, his face grave. "You know where I've been. I swear. I did not signal them."

"What?" He resisted the urge to look at the screen for himself. He looked at Hux instead. "Who?" Poe heard the distant whine of well-maintained engines. His stomach sank. He glanced in the direction of the sound, but as of yet there was nothing to see. He answered his own question: "The First Order."

"I did not signal them."

He turned back to Hux. "I know. I know, babe." He kissed him. Hux kissed him back fiercely. When they parted, Poe said, "I'd rather be shot wearing clothes than not, so I'll go get dressed."

Hux straightened as some inspiration struck him. "Yes! Yes, that's it! Get dressed!"

"Okay …" Poe hesitated. "Can you let me in on the secret?"

"You're a member of the First Order now. You're part of the bridge security detail. You lost your armor. I'll have your number."

"Oh. Um. Okay."

"Go!"

Poe hurried out and donned the body sleeve, remembering how he hadn't been challenged in the halls due to the similarity to other garments. It might work, he supposed, if they didn't look too close at his boots. The Finalizer had a crew of thousands. How many had evacuated before the explosion? How many had been recovered and by whom? Would Hux be able to pick someone who wasn't already accounted for? Poe's other choice was to stay here with the gundarks and the leeches. Alone.

The ship that set down was short, stubby, and unless Poe missed his mark, did not possess hyperdrive engines. He couldn't see the rear of it, but it looked like a standard short-flight shuttle. A rock-hopper; only one step up from a puddle-jumper. He grimaced. He'd been hoping for something they could steal, but if they stole this, it would be a short flight.

One officer and someone else in a puffy black (was it a pilot's outfit?) jumpsuit came down the extended ramp and spoke with Hux, who had put his boots on and looked surprisingly presentable. Poe tried to think of what he was supposed to do for this role Hux had slapped on him. He rubbed some mud over his boots and picked up the blaster rifle they'd recovered from the pod. He wandered over. All three of them glanced his way.

"We leave the gear," Hux said to him. "They'll take us back."

"Cool. I mean, Yes, sir."

Hux scowled at him. "The time for relaxed formalities has passed, trooper."

"Yes sir," Poe said more briskly. Hux followed the other two up the ramp and Poe followed him. No one took his rifle away from him, which meant they really did seem to buy the deception. He took a seat in the comfortably processed air of the narrow cabin, watching the planet fall away under them with a smoothness he envied. The First Order had such lovely ships.

Hux was giving numbers to the officer and explaining that his code cylinder had been cannibalized for parts to start a fire. The officer was inputting things. They spoke back and forth for several minutes. Hux's attitude was haughty. The officer's was … wary, Poe decided was the right term. The only other crew member was the pilot. The outfit was different from that of TIE pilots because it didn't incorporate the standard helmet or other gear needed for survival in the vacuum of space.

The interior of the shuttle was unremarkable and Poe could not yet see the ship they were undoubtedly bearing toward, so he turned his attention to the conversation. "I'm sorry, sir," the officer was telling Hux, "but the crew member with that designation has been rescued. This … cannot be him." Poe gave his best innocent face and quietly clicked his rifle over to stun.

"Oh, well," Hux hedged, moving between the officer and the muzzle of Poe's rifle. "They all look alike. Try AF-6534." Poe let the barrel of his weapon dip so it wasn't pointed at either of them. Apparently, Hux wasn't a fan of hijacking the shuttle.

The officer input the designation and shook her head. "That one was reported deceased. Was that in error?"

Hux sighed. "I saw the bridge crew evacuate myself. No one was left behind. How did he die?"

"I-" The officer pursed her lips and looked at her screen for a moment. "Decompression."

"Was there a pod malfunction?" Hux asked.

"I don't know," the officer said. "But I need his serial number before we dock." She indicated Poe.

Poe opened his mouth and then shut it. It was bizarre that the officer wasn't asking him. She acted like he didn't exist. He could see the ship they were headed to now, coming up in the viewport. It was a heavy cruiser – not a patch on a star destroyer, but still a big ship. Hux said, "There was another. He was on the off-shift, but I'd sounded battle stations. AL-8922."

She typed that in. "Well, there's no entry for him."

Hux turned to Poe. "Are you AL-8922?"

"Yes sir," Poe said, struggling and largely failing to keep a straight face, especially as he could see the pilot smirking behind the two officers.

"You can't tell them apart when they're on duty," Hux said to the officer in a lamenting tone. She nodded, commiserating. Another smirk from the pilot, which disappeared with practiced timing when the officers turned back. Poe was starting to like the pilot. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't shot any of these people yet.

He wondered how it was believable that having been stranded on a deserted planet for days, Hux still didn't know Poe's designation. Was he assumed to have just called him 'you there' or 'trooper' for the duration? But apparently it was believable. At least for now. The officer transmitted the documentation she'd filled out and spoke through the comm confirming the rescue. The pilot had her own conversation, being directed to 'the' hangar bay, confirming Poe's expectation that there was only one such hangar on the cruiser.

It was a busy space, with the ceiling racks packed with TIEs and the floor featuring two full-sized shuttles, a transport or small freighter, some slender-profiled private ship, and miscellaneous cargo, munitions, and fuel stacked in between the parking lanes. No walkers, tanks, or other ground mech. They set down on a small landing pad and were met by a security detachment of four stormtroopers, one of whom had a white pauldron with black marks around the edge. If Poe's memory served him right, that was a sergeant.

The one with the pauldron told Hux, "Sir. You are to be detained pending review and release by the ship commander, Captain Rynelle."

Hux nodded. "I see. I need a new uniform."

The sergeant hesitated. "I'll inform the security chief of your request."

Another of the troopers reached for Poe's rifle. "I'll take that." Poe didn't let go, feeling like a pivotal moment was here and about to pass them by. At that second, he was armed, Hux was armed, and they were standing in the hangar with hyperdrive capable ships all around them.

If they were to escape, this was the moment, but the odds were woefully against them – two normal human beings against the four in the security detail, the officer and pilot from the shuttle, and anyone else nearby who might join in. Not to mention that the ship he might choose might not be ready for immediate flight. At a glance, there was no way to tell which needed warm-up or fueling or might even be off-line for maintenance. Poe looked down at the hand on his weapon and grimaced.