Poe, Finn, Beebee, Unkar, Wiles, the Teedos. Seven in total. And they had First Order Terries to deal with. Terries with orders to secure Net Station till the bitter end.

Lightning danced like dust devils from the fingers of the ash-grey Ship Gods looming to the horizon. Hel was completely blocked now, despite being mid-afternoon; all light came from the burning clouds, blazing engines and laserfire from the sky. The two humans clamped their jaws to their tongues hoping it would stop their denters from ringing.

Reciprocating blasterfire split them up, but all the junkers and humans were armed. Poe bit his tongue as he took a dive behind their shuttle for cover, one of the Teedos crouching just a few arms' lengths from him.

They saw another flare go up, close enough to not just be the battle all around them, or a magnic burst riding the air. So did the Suicide Terries. Poe and Finn opened up, both hobbling forward, the junkers getting the same idea and managed to take out a chunk, though that left maybe a dozen Vader-looking figures, taller than the average Terror Trooper and with splashes of bone-white. This newfound group only heard radio static interlaced with harsh syllables, little else.

From Unkar: "Bri, we do a quick 'en, the old win-tee, yol kennin'?"

Finn and Poe barely had time to register what that meant when all four junkers seemed to disappear. As in, just vanish behind the nearest corner they could find. The two humans shot each other a look, reminding each other they were still there. Poe spit a bit of blood to the sand, gripped emptily at his abdomen. Now that he realized it, it was a miracle he was still standing. Some people could just go like that, he supposed. If Order indoctrination could be believed, a human could survive roughly three months of nonstop battle with a couple breathers and the right stims. Considering the occasional shoot of pain spreading outward like roots from his stomach, he found himself hoping it was possible, but would not apply to him. Not yet, at least.

The troopers took defensive positions, blasters trained in all directions.

Poe collapsed. Finn saw it. And he shouted, drawing their attention, blaster raised but aiming not his priority. He didn't even think to fire. Or maybe he did.

"Poe!" This, along with any possibility of blasterfire, was swallowed for a moment by a lightning strike somewhere Saolt-true of them. He could hardly tell if the words had left his mouth, his skull seemed to resonate with the universe. He wondered if Poe could name the pitch of the hum in his own head.

Their blasters turned. In the right direction.

ZAP. ZAPZAPAZAPAPAPAPAZAP. PEW PEW.

Even elite killers can be stupid. All the ensuing killing meant little to the Teedos, was a chore to Wiles, but Unkar relished in it. Part of what had landed him on Jakku on the first place. As several Suicides turned - several moments too late - Finn was the second pincer on the claw, and they closed tightly around the First Order bri.

Finn: "Poe's got serious injuries, there should be some medical supplies in the shuttle."

Unkar: "Ye know how't fly if he cannit?" Finn didn't answer. The fat alien sounded almost casual about it, testing, like a teacher who needs to know when to step in.

Beebee rolled out. No one heard him. But within himself, he could hear rattling components shearing off. Internal cooling systems had nothing on these kind of scenarios; no First Order droid had been intended for prolonged exposure in these conditions.

Finn rushed first to where Poe was struggling to get to his feet, coughing a big wad onto Finn's own already slightly-bloodied jacket. He saw the alien junkers had found what was easily identified as the cockpit. They'd be stupid to pull their usual antics, breaking a viewport as if jacking a speeder, or trying to muscle a door open.

Another thunderclap, interlaced with laser exchanges that just kept getting closer and closer, coming farther and farther down. All six organic beings still alive looked up:

The First Order ships were halfway through the atmosphere directly over Net Station. Some were glowing with bright rollen spots.

The hatch had closed when the last of the squad had exited. Finn and Poe knew the basics of how to get one open; even stargazers like themselves were given a far-too-adequate understanding of their equipment.

Finn gave instructions as he slung his partner's arm over his shoulder:

"Rip open that control panel, there should be a few badly-shielded wires. They're magnic, you'll want to cut the current, dig down a bit farther and there'll be another filful of cables. Somewhere in there's the back lift mechanism, can't tell you whi - !"

Lightning strike, followed closely by another.

Scratch that.

Ship-to-ship low air bombardment. The sky went ferrum-colored for several blinks. Then settled into that bloody rollen again. Their oyos all shot up again.

Beebee rolled up alongside Poe.

"Beebee!" Poe coughed it out. "Good to know you survived that." He grinned sadly to the droid. "I might not, though. Don't get your hopes up. Don't worry, Finn's a very good - "

"Poe! Put a clamp on it."

The Teedos were quick to pull out some tools, some of which were dropped graciously to the sand by Wiles. One standing atop the other's head, he reached a nimble hand in and sent sparks flying. Sent out a few curses that would sound natural on a First Order officer whose home world hasn't been washed from his mind completely. Like these two. Not on a waist-high black-skinned alien nowhere close to human outside of two arms and two legs.

Wiles paced casually towards a suicide trooper struggling to stay alive. With a blaster in each outer arm, he planted one hole each at the most vital spots: head and stomach. If he survived one, the other would take him, leaving him the option between an instant death and a drawn-out one if he was strong enough.

Didn't seem to be, though.

Laughter, a bit too human. "Ookh-thoo wiggivikki, we got 'em good!"

Sparks flew, but the rear ramp dropped. Perhaps too fast. Scratch that, too. Definitely too fast.

Unkar extended two blobby arms to take Poe's lower half. Finn didn't accept the offer. However, when the fat alien leaned towards him, he saw the crystal dangling from a worn brown string around his oversized neck, which was thicker than his head. A wonder it didn't go flying off at any moment, especially after such a display as the trip that'd gotten them here in historic time.

Finn dragged Poe up the ramp. Wiles and Unkar were right behind them, Beebee rolling alongside. The Teedos brought up the rear, and the ramp closed them in.

At the front of the little hold was the cockpit.

"Poe, can you sit in a cockpit?" He nodded.

"So long as I don't die in breaking atmosphere."

Xrap. That's right. Schet! Then, a holdover from Caprican slang: Frak!

"Junkers, breaking atmosphere is going to be a bit bumpy, no matter who's piloting."

"Well, we ain' got ev'n till Heldown. We strap in and we go! Now!"

Then Finn remembered what droids were used for.

"Beebee! Can you interface with this shuttle?"

Possible. And he found the interface port that'd give them the answer. As that happened, Finn ran towards the cockpit, motioning for Unkar to follow him. He didn't know why.

"Wiles, get yon brill stable. Teedos, keep d'fires to a minimum!" With a kind of weightlessness unbecoming of his size, he seemed to float into the copilot's seat.

Wiles strapped himself in beside Poe, started going to what medical work three-armed creatures can do with little proper equipment. He had the stuff for sterilizing (most of) a wound and covering it, little else. Poe seemed to be losing the strength to cry out even as the sound shot from his throat.

Finn flipped some switches, struggling to remember what each thing was likely to look like. Gravity compensators, fuel valves, hyperdrive bearing, directional thrusters. And free-spinning toggles: speed, gyroscopics, shield rotations. A good chunk of it he was hoping Beebee could do.

The ship lurched upward and forward, almost nosediving into the ground. But Unkar took the tilt joystick in time and righted them, angling them upward.

"Switch the gravity compensators to sync with gyroscopics." And inside the ship, things righted themselves against external gravity. He had no idea what he was doing.

From the passenger hold: "What was that?" Wiles leaned in close.

"What?"

"Your friend here says you can set your hyperdrive for a short burst, the guidance systems have a map of empty space you can match us for." That would get them outside the battle long enough to punch in more detailed coordinates.

Not everything the First Order had was one big kletserfrak. Maybe this battle and place were, but not a few of their machines. Some things could operate efficiently. And were almost being used "wrong", Finn found himself thinking.

Sure hope I can pull us out of here. This Unkar's not bad at the controls either. He knew to throw the gyros.

Let's see what else these aliens know.

"Got it punched in, Beebee?"

Outside, Finn saw a few First Order ships warming up their cannons. Pointed downward. At the whole planet. A boxed-in Republic fighter squad didn't notice them. He angled their nose towards the emptiest pocket of sky he could see.

Yes. Do it.

Unkar threw the hyperdrive throttle.

It was like a punch to the whole body as gravity clashed with compensators clashed with engines clashed with hyperdrive. Their viewport dissolved into silvery-rollen ribbons around them.

And a bang.