"This is going to be a very bad landing!"

The ship was shaking so much, Cassian had to grit his teeth to stop him from chattering. His knuckles were white on the controls of the rapidly descending ship. The ground of this uninhabited world the Rogue Star was plummeting into was lush with browning wheat fields, its sky almost sickening in its beauty. It wouldn't be long before they got to feel Geezor's sun on their skin – assuming this crash landing wasn't fatal.

K-2SO's endless pessimism wasn't helping matters.

The ship lurched backward, throwing Cassian and K-2 forward into the dash as the Rogue Star suddenly decelerated. It knocked the breath out of Cassian, leaving him a sharp pain in his chest as the console imprinted into his skin – he almost lost his grip on the controls, only adrenaline keeping him alert.

"The X-wing deployed its flaps!" exclaimed K-2SO, but Cassian didn't have the time to comment on the manoeuvre.

The drop in speed had corrected their near-fatal angle of entry, some of the rapid shudder in the flight controls loosening while they were still airborne, but they'd no time to celebrate. The ground met the Rogue Star, slamming into the hull and deafening both human and droid. Their harnesses protected them from being thrown clear of the cockpit – it dug into Cassian's skin, sure to leave rashes and bruises for weeks. His head thumped against the head-rest, stuck there while the Rogue Star slid across the ground.

The forward motion continued for too long. The ice in his stomach had reached Cassian's chest when he realised they hadn't perished from the crash itself – but what if they came across a cliff, or a forest, or something worse? There was always something worse.

But by some miracle, worse never came.

The weight of the X-wing they towed behind them had been enough to slow their momentum. They finally came to a solid stop, wheat and debris having scattered across the front of the Rogue Star.

It was over. They were alive.

K-2SO unclipped his harness. The droid's long black arm reached over to undo Cassian's as well. His head moved as he began to speak, but Cassian held up a hand. "Don't say it."

K-2's head drooped. "…that was eventful…"

Cassian turned his head slowly, giving the droid a dark look. At least he didn't say it'd been 'exciting'. With a heavy breath, Cassian rubbed at his eyes. "Damage report?"

"I imagine everything is broken," K-2 stated, and the co-pilot's console chirped rapidly. "Nevermind. Someone has opened the cargo bay door."

Cassian launched to his feet, checking K-2's console. They had opened the doors from the inside.

Their mysterious pilot had escaped his cuff.

Cassian's feet thumped against the deck plating. The pilot had a head-start, but once Cassian's eyes readjusted for the sunlight outside, he could see exactly where the man in the orange jumpsuit was headed: to the X-wing.

Cassian cursed. They should have secured it before beginning their descent. If the X-wing was still flight-worthy, the pilot could disappear in an instant. It didn't matter if it could handle outer space – if it got to the other side of this planet, Cassian had no hope of locating it again with the Rogue Star in its damaged state.

The tan-skinned pilot slid to a halt when he reached the X-wing's cockpit, slipping and catching himself on the X-wing's hull. But he failed to pop it open. He dropped to his knees, lush brown hair wind-swept from the dash from the Rogue Star, his attention on something below the X-wing. The pilot's voice was just inaudible against the wind rushing past Cassian's ears.

The spy's feet scraped to a stop, kicking up dirt. His chest heaved as he whipped out his blaster and trained it to the pilot.

The pilot was deep in a frantic conversation with… some kind of orange and white ball droid, no taller than his knee.

"Hands where I can see them," Cassian wheezed. His lungs ached – between the Rogue Star's crash and the sprint to catch up to their 'guest', he was hardly in a position to give orders.

The small ball-like droid responded poorly to the demand. A small metal arm flipped out – it shoved an electric poker towards him as it beeped and zizzed at him. Cassian stumbled backward to avoid the strikes, but he only ended up on his backside in the dirt.

"Beebee-Ate, enough. Enough!" the pilot called, throwing himself between Cassian and the droid, sitting at the droid's height. "He said he rescued us – the least we can do is not shock him."

The droid whizzed too fast for Cassian to make sense of it, but the pilot appeared to be keeping up. "What is it saying?" the spy demanded.

"That we're out of range of Kaz- I mean… my wing-man," he explained, before slumping down to the ground, laying with his limbs eagle spread as he sucked in Geezor II's oxygen. He brought his hands up to scrub at his face, still listening to the droid's incessant beeping.

"I told you already," Cassian growled. "There were no other crafts. Just you and this X-wing."

"That can't be right! We hadn't slipped that far apart when we hit the storm!"

"When did you hit the storm? How long was your starfighter drifting before we found you?"

The ball droid – BB-8 – started its incoherent whistling again. "He says we'd only been out for a few minutes," the pilot translated. "You're sure you didn't come across another craft?"

"It would be here, crashed with us on this planet if we had." Cassian holstered his blaster. This pilot was just as exhausted as he was. It was possible the air on Geezor II was a little thin – but after the tumultuous landing they just had, neither of them were running anywhere again soon. "You have answered none of my questions."

"What were they again?"

"Who are you? What is this X-wing? What kind of droid is this? You say you weren't alone, but what are two starfighters doing patrolling this section of space with the Empire so close by?"

"The Empire-? Okay, no. I'm not telling you squat until you tell me who you are," the man jabbed a finger in his direction. "Because either you're playing a really long game, or you're insane."

Cassian's brow deepened. They were at a stand-still again. It would yield him no answers to round in circles with the man.

The pilot wore a Rebellion insignia; he flew an X-wing. Though his X-wing and droid were unfamiliar models, surely there was enough to at least provide him with something? This hardly appeared to be an act of an Imperial sympathiser.

"…I'm Fulcrum."

The man scrambled upright at this, face embodying surprise – maybe also a little awe – at the mention of his codename. "You're Fulcrum? Which one!?"

Ah. It was becoming more likely the man was from the Alliance. Cassian shook his head. "You first. Who are you?"

"I'm Poe! Poe Dameron. I'm with the Resistance."

"The what? You mean the Rebellion?"

Poe was silenced. The apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. He slumped back a little, glancing over to the smoking remains of the Rogue Star. K-2SO now descended the ramp, his large and imposing Imperial figure engaging in a leisurely stroll toward the two humans.

"Y'know," Poe finally said. "It's kind of a long story."