Author's note: This one took a while longer for work and other life-related reasons, but all the same, enjoy!

Chapter Six

A large, sand-coloured orb loomed ahead of Yaqeel as she dropped her StealthR out of hyperspace. Keeping the small craft's sensor negators active, the Jedi Master took a moment to find Niima Outpost's coordinates on the planet's surface and plot a course. There she would have to hide her starfighter, blend in with the patrons at the Outpost's cantina, and gain an audience with one of the local First Order contacts.

From what Yaqeel had read about Jakku in the database on her way from Takodana, about nine standard decades ago, this desert world had been the site of a fierce battle between the then-fledgling New Republic and some of the warlords who had competed for supremacy over the remains of the Empire following Palpatine's death. Admittedly, from a galactic standpoint, the battle was not as notable as others in that major period of upheaval and transition. Yaqeel was old enough to have been a child in the New Republic before it was reorganised into the Galactic Alliance, but she could not recall ever hearing the name 'Jakku' in her history classes on Palpatine's fall and the Republic's restoration. Still, the battle had left a profound mark on Jakku. To this day, the wrecks of downed starships and war vehicles peppered the planet's surface, leaving salvage and scavenging as the main 'legitimate' job sector on this arid globe.

As the cloaked fighter began its rapid descent into the planet's atmosphere, Yaqeel's mind flicked back to Valin and Jysella. With luck, this mission would be over and she would be with them soon. The mental image of the Coruscant skyline faded into the stretching, swirling sands of Jakku, with the low buildings and parked ships of Niima Outpost peering over the red horizon.

"So that was when the First Order found you?"

"Yeah," the helmetless stormtrooper continued with a trace of hesitation in his voice. It had been about four standard days since he had first spoken with the Resistance prisoner. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something strangely therapeutic in being able to talk freely about his teen years. Admittedly, he still struggled to think of the man in the cell before him as 'Poe'. Stranger still was thinking of himself as 'Finn'. After all these years of going by a number, there was a certain wrongness to having a personal name again. Nevertheless, unlike the other unsettling feelings he had experienced in recent days, this sense of wrongness felt oddly liberating. It was something like those adolescent days when he managed to sneak out of school to spend a few hours roaming the streets for kicks.

The rush of schoolboy memories brought him back to Poe's question. "You gotta understand…I tried to be a good kid: I really did. Decent work wasn't exactly easy to come by on Cezith – at least not for someone like me – and I genuinely loved the chance to learn things. But no matter how hard I tried in class, I couldn't focus. I kept my eyes fixed to the front of the classroom as much as I could, but my mind kept wandering to all sorts of places. Teachers didn't like that one bit!"

Finn's small laugh became a visible wince as his teachers' harsh, accusatory words returned to him. "I lost count of the number of times they noticed me sitting there, all zoned out. Sometimes they'd make me stand at the front of the class to make an example of me. Most of the time they'd just berate me and give me detention. Thought I was either too much of an idiot or too much of a troublemaker to amount to anything. There were a couple of better teachers – ones who'd encourage me to try different subjects and explore different career choices. But I know that most of the teachers in that place wondered why they had to waste their time with a no-hoper like me. Some of them even said it to my face! I guess at some point I figured that, if everyone thinks I'm just some delinquent anyway, I might as well live up to the reputation! I started acting out more around school. Graffiti, truancy, you know the deal."

Poe cracked a smile behind the barrier. "Let me guess – they started giving you detention more often and that just made you even more frustrated?"

"Exactly! It was like this constant downward spiral! That's why, when I found those secret HoloNet groups, I really took to what they had to say. 'The True Imperial Creed' – that's what the Supreme Leader calls his teachings. You know, it's funny: I spent all those years as a kid on Cezith getting lectured about what it meant to be an upstanding Imperial citizen, but it was only when I came across the First Order that I started thinking in any serious way about what it meant to be Imperial."

Finn opened his mouth to continue before catching himself with slight embarrassment. "Sorry, I know I've been talking a lot – you've barely got a word in since my shift started!"

"That's all right," Poe answered with an encouraging tone. "Like I said before, I'm here to listen! Go on."

"I remember when my local First Order organiser gave me my first volume of the True Imperial Creed. I'd heard bits and pieces about what the First Order believed before that, but even then, I wasn't sure how much I could really expect to get out of it. But when I actually started reading it…I couldn't stop." Finn let out a laugh. "Can you believe that? There I was – the guy who could barely stay focussed in class – sitting there, gripping that datapad, devouring every line of text! It…it just put things in a different perspective, you know?"

"What kind of things?" Poe asked as he leaned in closer to the barrier, listening intently.

"Things like…like the Force!" Finn's hands swept upwards as the memory rush intensified. "Every so often growing up, I'd hear little things about the Force here and there – about how it's some kind of…mystical energy field that people like the Jedi and the Imperial Knights can tap into. How some people use it for good and others use it for evil. It all sounded a bit arcane. But the Supreme Leader…he made the Force make sense! He showed how it can help explain why the galaxy's in such a kriffing mess and how we can do something about it – how the Empire can do something about it! Tell me, did you ever hear about how the Force connects everything in existence? How it keeps everything in harmony?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Well, the Supreme Leader says the galaxy's root problem is that, instead of being politically united, it's broken into all these different states and factions. It doesn't reflect the sacred, harmonious order of the Force: the one we can see in nature. Under Palpatine, the Empire came closest to uniting the galaxy under a single, strong leadership. He might not have known it himself, but by bringing all those systems together and keeping them in order under the Imperial flag, Palpatine was serving the will of the Force. But in the end, his Empire crumbled and its inheritors lost their way." Finn gave another chuckle. "It's funny...for years, I heard older folks on Cezith tell me about how much better things used to be in the Empire. It was only after reading the Creed that I finally understood the deeper truth in their words."

"I think I follow. You're saying that things were better back then because the Empire was bringing the galaxy in line with the harmonious order of the Force?"

"And that's only scratching the surface! You see, it's not just that the fragmented state of the galaxy offends the Force. By keeping the galaxy in a blasphemous condition, we've weakened the light of the Force itself. When Force users wield their powers, they're tapping into something that's barely a shadow of what it should be. Only by uniting the galaxy under the Empire and shaping it into a state that reflects the primal order of things – the first order of things – can the Force awaken and bring us into a golden age of peace and justice."

"And I take it this…awakening will come about through the 'Great Cleansing' I've heard about?"

"Exactly. Once the Supreme Leader takes his rightful place on the Imperial throne, he'll lead the Empire on a great crusade that'll cleanse the galaxy of everything that's twisted it into its unholy state. Back when I was a First Order recruit, I remember always coming back to this one section of the Creed. The Supreme Leader calls it 'the paradox of peace': we want galactic peace, but the Force can only grant it if we unite and purify the galaxy under the Empire, and we can only achieve that if the strong can rise and free the Empire from those who've corrupted it. In other words, we can only get to peace by creating the conditions of struggle that foster strength. And with that strength, the First Order will liberate the galaxy."

For several seconds, Finn went silent. "At least…that's what I thought."

Drawing a long breath, the stormtrooper continued. "I…I guess I always figured that joining the First Order would mean having to do some things I wouldn't feel proud of – at least not in the moment. But…I dunno. I guess I also thought that, as long as I knew what I was fighting for, I'd pull through it. You can't win a crusade without sacrifice. But then…but, but then…"

Finn's eyes shut tightly as those accursed screams returned in his mind. "I don't know…just a week ago, I felt so sure of everything. But ever since I pulled that trigger on Ilis, it's like I…it's like I…"

"It's like you don't know what you're fighting for?"

Finn fought the urge to nod his head in agreement. Already he could hear the six words from Phasma drilled into him through years of instruction. Treason means apostasy: apostasy means death! By entertaining the kinds of doubts that had been stirring in his mind since the massacre, he was already committing treason.

Picking up on Finn's distress, Poe adopted a sympathetic tone. "Look…I know that what you're going through must be pretty terrifying and I don't think any less of you for it. I felt surer than ever that, by joining the Resistance, I was serving the republican ideals I've believed in my whole life. That didn't make it any easier when I first had to shoot someone and see the body with my own eyes. Behind the controls of my X-wing, it was easy to put some distance between me and my kills, but that time…I had to face the harsh reality that doing my duty means killing fellow sentients. So, yeah, I know what it's like to be devoted to a cause, only to see it in a different light after you've noticed the blood on your hands. I also understand why you joined the First Order – I want a just, peaceful, and united galaxy as much as you do."

The Resistance fighter came as close to Finn as he could within his cell, keeping that consoling warmth in his voice. "But as far as I can see, the 'harmonious order' the First Order wants to impose on the galaxy is one where everyone knows and stays in their place: a place the Supreme Leader alone decides because, apparently, he alone knows where we all fit in some Force-mandated natural order. I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound very 'liberating' to me. So, while I doubt it's an easy question for you, I think you have to ask yourself: is the kind of 'peaceful unity' the First Order's promising really the kind you want?"

As Poe's words began to sink past Finn's outermost layers of psychological resistance, the trooper realised just how long he had been talking to the prisoner: his shift was about to end. Placing his helmet back on his head, Finn turned towards the cell block door, Poe's question reverberating through his mind with every step.

The armoured shuttle loomed before Fel on the landing pad, its folded wings pointed towards the red-orange hues of the Bastion sky. The main passenger hatch yawned open, setting down the boarding ramp about fifteen metres in front of the Emperor, ready to take him to an orbiting Star Destroyer and from there to Kree'os. Along each side of the path to the ramp, a row of Imperial Knights stood alert, their red armour glinting in the morning light.

Resisting the urge to tug at his elaborate, white robes, Fel turned towards those who had come to see him off. Karyna stood with Roan before her, keeping her hands on her son's shoulders in reassurance. While royal decorum kept their faces free of any overt worry or sadness, Fel did not have to use his Force senses to know what they were going through beneath their composed exteriors. Off to one side, Calbhan stood silently.

Despite his best efforts, Fel felt a lump forming in his throat as he spoke. "It's time for me to go."

Karyna's lips formed a sad smile as she met her husband's gaze. "Val, you already know I have a bad feeling about this whole affair, but I'm not going to stand between you and your duty. I just hope that you'll be safe."

Fel opened his arms to pull Karyna and Roan into a warm embrace. Some things are more important than protocol! Keeping his wife and son close to him for several long, silent seconds, Fel finally found the strength to speak again. "Promise me you'll look out for each other while I'm gone."

At that, Fel glanced at Calbhan, who gave him a knowing nod. Easing out of his extended hug with Karyna and Roan, Fel put on the most comforting smile he could as he said his last goodbyes. Turning back to the shuttle, he strode towards the boarding ramp with a heavy heart. All the same, he held tightly to his sense of purpose and commitment. This is what I have to do.

Finn strode along the winding corridors of the Absolution, trying his best not to show agitation. As much as he hated to admit it, his conversations with the Resistance prisoner were having quite an impact. Though he still threw himself into his daily routine, he performed his duties with an even keener sense of wrongness and uncertainty than he had experienced immediately after the village massacre. Already the prisoner was becoming familiar: now he could not help but think of the man as 'Poe'. Worse still, while several days had passed since their last conversation, Poe's closing question had not left his head. It was as if the Resistance fighter had looked into Finn's very soul to see what the stormtrooper had begun to ask himself but dared not articulate.

A shiver ran down Finn's spine as he remembered something he had heard from his fellow recruits at the First Order training camp all those years ago. Since the Supreme Leader's Force powers let him see right into the heart of the Empire, perhaps he could also gaze into the minds of his followers across the galaxy and pick up the first traces of apostasy. That would go some way towards explaining the Inquisitorial stormtroopers' ruthless efficiency in detecting and removing traitors.

Just then, Finn heard a voice calling from behind. "FN-2187!"

The stormtrooper spun around, mentally noting how peculiar it felt to remember to respond to both his designation and his new name. Approaching him was a human male with a dark complexion, dressed in a grey officer's uniform. Finn recognised the man immediately: he was the officer assigned to oversee the holding cells.

With fresh unease swelling in his stomach, Finn answered. "Sir!"

"Sorry to interrupt your duties, trooper," the officer continued in polite but authoritative tones, "but I'd like to have a quick word with you."

"Of course, Sir. What's this about?"

"I've been keeping an eye on the cells through the security cams and I couldn't help noticing that you've been…shall we say…somewhat talkative with the Resistance prisoner."

Finn fought the urge to gulp, his mind frantically searching for an excuse. "Yes, Sir. I was trying to give him a…chance to redeem himself. I know that he's taken up arms against the Supreme Leader, but unlike us, he's never had the opportunity to learn the True Imperial Creed. I realise it's a long shot, but maybe I can get through to him and bring him into the light."

A few tense seconds passed before the officer's lips curled into a smile. "Your sense of duty to spreading the Creed is commendable, trooper, but I'm afraid you're going to have to stop chatting with the prisoner. These Resistance types are tricky – you might think he's becoming sympathetic, but he could very easily be trying to make you lower your guard."

"Understood, Sir. I won't have any more conversations with him."

"Very good, trooper! And while it would be nice to make him see the error of his ways, I'm afraid your efforts might have been a waste. Captain Phasma tells me that we're expecting a Knight of Ren to arrive in three standard days. If the Resistance prisoner remains as stubborn as he has so far, I don't see him getting out of that interrogation with his mind intact!"

The gnawing unease in Finn's stomach swelled to new proportions. "Understood, Sir. May I return to my duties?"

"Very well, trooper. As you were!"

The slightly rancid odour of smoked tabac and spilled ale struck Yaqeel's nostrils as she stepped into the Niima Outpost cantina. On the wall to her right, a creaky air conditioner ran furiously, but it could only do so much against the relentless Jakku heat. Still, Yaqeel was thankful to be out of the desert sun.

For a while, she had considered landing her StealthR some distance from the outpost and making the rest of her journey on foot after nightfall. However, she had soon realised that this might create a problem in the event of her needing to make a quick , at her age she had to be more mindful of physical exertion, especially in a climate as brutal as Jakku's. Ultimately, she had opted to hide her starfighter amongst the rows of salvaged ships along the side of the landing field.

Decades' worth of Jedi missions had brought Yaqeel to her share of rough establishments. As Master Katarn had put it to her before her first proper assignment as a Padawan all those years ago, "If you can survive the bars of the Coruscant underworld, you can survive anywhere!" All the same, she hardly needed the Force to realise that she was in dangerous company. Around the makeshift, metal tables that dotted the cantina, hardened patrons of diverse species, from humans to Twi'leks to Trandoshans, sat in raucous conversation. Some were clearly spacers, theatrically and predictably delivering tall tales about their latest feats of daring on far-off worlds or at the controls of a starship. Others were presumably local scavengers, enjoying a drink after many hours hauling scrap under the punishing glare of the Jakku sun. Yet it was those figures locked in quieter conversation who piqued Yaqeel's curiosity the most. If her experience had taught her anything, it was that, in a joint like this, patrons keeping their voices low and concentration high were almost certainly striking illicit deals.

Now she just had to find out who among them was striking deals for the First Order.

Even with her ageing eyes, Yaqeel could spot more than a few holstered blasters, their bearers scarcely trying to conceal them. Keeping up a casual demeanour in her civilian trader garb, the old Bothan eased her way to the bar, pointing at one of the on-tap ale selections as she approached. The portly, four-armed bartender – a Besalisk, if Yaqeel was not mistaken – made no sound as he grabbed a glass with one of his lower hands, placed it under the tap, and pulled the pump with an upper hand. With his remaining hands, he gestured at the price. Relieved that, even this far into the Outlands, the bar accepted Imperial credits, Yaqeel handed the barman the credit chip she had been issued at the Temple before her departure.

Bringing the ale glass to the end of her snout for a long sip, Yaqeel surveyed the room once more. One by one, she picked out those quieter customers engaged in focussed discussion. Subtly channelling the Force into her long, furry ears, Yaqeel zeroed in on what little she could make out of their conversations, isolating and amplifying those fragments of hushed speech within the general din of the cantina.

Just as she turned her ears towards one of the tables along the back wall, she heard it: "What about the Dantooine merch?"

Immediately, Yaqeel intently focussed her ears on the scratchy whisper. Getting up from the bar, she slowly made her way between the tables in the middle of the room, sipping her drink every so often and keeping her eyes on the holoscreen to make it seem like she was simply moving to a spot where she could listen to the broadcast more easily. As she approached her target table, she could better make out the two patrons. The first was a brown-haired human male with a tanned complexion. The second was of a species she did not recognise: a tough-looking humanoid with orange, leathery skin and three stubby horns – one jutting out from their chin, the other two curving upwards from the sides of their temples.

Yaqeel was barely six metres from the table when she spotted something glinting on the figure's loose-fitting, ivory-coloured shirt. Drawing the Force into her eyes, she confirmed her suspicions: a small, metallic badge engraved with the First Order symbol.

Still trying to look like she was moving closer to the holoscreen, Yaqeel heard that raspy whisper once again from the unfamiliar customer. "Kylo's brought in some good hauls – I'll give him that. But Jedi and Sith trinkets are hard to come by, so we've gotta start thinkin' about who else could find 'em for us."

Mentally noting the name 'Kylo' for future reference, Yaqeel stepped up to the table, carefully striking a tone that was polite enough to show caution, but not so deferential that it would undermine her appearance as an experienced merchant. "Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help overhearing that you're interested in Jedi and Sith merch! I've dabbled in that market quite a bit myself and, as it happens, I've got something that just might interest you…for the right price, of course."

The seated figures eyed Yaqeel carefully. Realising they would need a bit more assurance, Yaqeel slowly unbuckled the flap on her side bag and began to pull out the fake talisman that Maz had given her: not to the point that the pair could see the entire object, but far enough for them to spot the Sith hieroglyphs engraved along its sides.

"Got it off another trader near the Telos system. Not sure he realised how big a find it was! Still, if you gentlebeings might find more use for it than me, I'd be willing to part with it. Credits, nova crystals, aurodium – any kind of payment'll do as long as you make it worth my while."

After several long seconds, the leathery-skinned being finally spoke to her. "OK, Bothan – you might have something worthwhile there. Care to join us in the back room? It's a little too noisy to negotiate here."

"That's fine by me, Mister…?"

"Thaeeti."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name's A'Kla and I look forward to doing business with you!"

Poe took a sharp breath as the pain shot through his lower ribs. While his captors' interrogation methods had brought them no closer to the intel they sought, they had lost no enthusiasm for roughing him up and injecting him with truth serums. Next to this, his conversations with Finn were a Force-sent relief.

Finn…

Poe shuddered at how he almost looked forward to the stormtrooper's shifts. While it had been Poe's idea to give the young man an actual name, the Resistance fighter could not help but feel a little bit sickened at the air of familiarity that had already formed between them. However genuine the trooper's remorse and wavering faith in the First Order, the truth remained that Finn was an Imp who had knowingly joined a far-right paramilitary group, donned that accursed white armour, and done horrific things in the name of a totalitarian theocracy bent on 'purifying' the galaxy.

Granted, Finn had been understandably reluctant to discuss the details of his actions on Ilis, so Poe could not safely say how much innocent blood was on the trooper's hands. Still, there was something about the specific details Finn tended to avoid that gave Poe an uneasy suspicion about the young man's role in the massacre.

The suspicion that Finn had been the one who put a blaster bolt through Teq'ah.

Teq'ah. Poe felt the remorse and disgust rising at the back of his throat as he pictured his slain contact. What would he think of me now? Chumming up with a stormtrooper whose platoon razed his village – a stormtrooper who I'm pretty sure killed him!

Still, Poe had a mission to accomplish, accomplishing that mission meant getting out of this cell, and – realistically – the only way out of this cell was with Finn's help. No matter how much it made his skin crawl, Poe's duty to the Resistance demanded that he show some sympathy to the compromised trooper.

Besides, Poe could hardly say that he had gained nothing from his conversations with the young terrorist. Many of Poe's Resistance comrades from the Imperial Outlands had told him horror stories about family members who were gradually drawn into the First Order's ideological clutches before disappearing to fight for their newfound cause. Hearing a first-hand account of that radicalisation process from a First Order recruit was something else entirely. Perhaps the Resistance could use these insights to prevent more disaffected youths from falling under the First Order's sway?

Just then, the door on the sentry's side of the room groaned open. With a nod of acknowledgement, the current trooper on guard duty strode out as their identically armoured replacement moved into place to start their own shift. Seconds after the door had shut, the new guard backed up to the rear wall before edging along to the corner where the cell's security cam was positioned near the ceiling. Swiftly, they pulled a small device from their utility belt and attached it to the bottom of the cam.

Immediately after doing so, the stormtrooper tore off their helmet and hurried over to Poe. Sure enough, it was Finn.

"That looper should give us about five minutes of time to talk before someone watching the feed gets suspicious."

Concern crept across Poe's features. "What is it, Finn?"

"Something you should hear. My superiors are pretty upset."

"Let me guess – they want you to stop talking to me?"

"Yep! And worse…just a few hours ago, one of them told me that, in three days, this ship's gonna pick up a Knight of Ren on the way back to Darkwater and Phasma's gonna bring him down here to break open your mind with his Force powers!"

'Darkwater'? Is that their main base or something? Putting aside the question to focus on the matter at hand, Poe could almost feel the cogs in his mind whirring as he considered their options. While Poe had never knowingly been in the presence of a Force user, he had heard enough about their strange abilities to realise that, even with his training and experience in resisting torture, he had little hope of shielding his memories from a Force sensitive trained in the Jedi arts. They would shift through his mind and tear out the intel they wanted. If Poe survived the process, it would almost certainly leave him a total psychological wreck.

Poe trembled at the thought. "OK, we don't have much time. I think I've got an idea that could bust me out of this place before the Knight of Ren gets here, but I'll need your help to work out the details and pull it off."

For several seconds, Finn went deathly quiet. "You…you know what you're asking me to do, right?"

Suppressing a sigh, Poe reached deep within himself to put on his most sympathetic face and voice. "Finn, I know I'm asking a lot from you. I know I'm asking you to act against people you've trained and fought alongside. But if we don't do something in these next three days, those same people are going to either kill me or leave my mind in pieces."

Placing himself where he could best make eye contact with the conflicted trooper, Poe continued. "Do you want that to happen to me, Finn?"

"No."

"The only way to stop that happening is to get me out of this cell and off this ship, and I can't do that without you."

The young stormtrooper paused, clearly understanding the truth in Poe's words, but struggling to accept the implications. Realising he had to tread delicately, the Resistance fighter continued with a warm tone. "Finn…you know that what the First Order's doing is wrong. You've told me yourself how confused you've felt about everything since Ilis. No matter what you do, there's no place for someone like you in the First Order – not anymore. If you help me out of here, the Resistance'll keep you safe from Phasma and her cronies…and we'll make sure there'll be never be an Ilis again. What do you say?"

More seconds that seemed like eternities passed. Finally, Finn raised his face to meet Poe's and answered with a resigned tone. "Ok, Poe. What do you want me to do?"

Yaqeel's hairs gently rippled as Thaeeti studied the fake talisman on the table between them. While she found it unlikely that anyone present would know the intricacies of Wrendui, the subtle, fur-based body language of the Bothans, she was at pains to avoid any chance of her mask slipping. Aside from Thaeeti, there were six tall, broad-shouldered humanoids standing or sitting in the rather cramped back room of the cantina, all decked out in desert gear. And all armed, no doubt!

"This is good workmanship," Thaeeti began as he picked up the hexagonal object to examine it more closely. "Certainly looks Sith. Would you take…10,000 Imperial credits for it?"

"Hm…I could do quite a lot with 10,000 Imp credits, but I was thinking of crossing into Alliance Space soon, so I'd prefer something that's worth something on both sides of the border."

"Ok, how about the same monetary value, but in aurodium? A couple of small ingots should cover that pretty nicely."

Yaqeel appeared to consider the proposed payment. In fact, she was thinking about how she could extract more information about the purpose and destination of the stolen artefacts. Just the smallest lead would do at this point!

Right at that moment, a rough-looking character with sharp, feline features walked up to the curtained partition between the back room and the bar – a subspecies of Cathar, if Yaqeel guessed correctly. The newcomer gestured to the human watching the entrance – the tan-skinned man who had been sitting with Thaeeti earlier. As the presumed Cathar leaned in to whisper into the human's ear, Yaqeel channelled the Force into her large ears once more. Taking extra care to seem completely focussed on the negotiations at the table, the Bothan found and amplified the arrival's low whisper.

"…he says he can drop off the rest of the merch on Ruusan. Most of the Knights have moved out, but there should still be someone watching over the valley."

Yaqeel silently thanked the Force as she made a mental note of her destination. Returning her attention to Thaeeti, the Jedi put a gentle nudge of Force persuasion behind her words. "Aurodium ingots sound good to me, but you seem quite keen to collect these kinds of goods. Maybe if I had some idea what you want them for, I could cut you a more reasonable price?"

The First Order contact's horned face remained hard as ever. "I'm afraid I'm in no position to divulge that information, but if you think my first offer wasn't generous, how about 15,000 credits' worth of aurodium?"

Guess he's much stronger-minded than the average barroom cutthroat! Realising that the standard mind trick would not get her anywhere with Thaeeti, Yaqeel quietly formed a small telepathic probe and subtly pushed it into the alien's mind, feeling for a weak point through which she could slip into his memories. While Thaeeti might be resistant to persuasion, Yaqeel's question about the goods' purpose would hopefully have brought the relevant thoughts to the front of his mind.

To her surprise, Yaqeel struck a solid, mental wall. As she gathered her Force energies to try again, Thaeeti gave a terrifying grin and indicated downward with his eyes. Following his silent gesture, Yaqeel saw with horror that, just under the table, Thaeeti's leathery skinned hand was pointing a blaster pistol right at her.

"Found somethin' you like up there?", the First Order contact continued through that unnerving grin, "Y'know, A'Kla – if that is your real name - I don't blame anyone for tryin' to use telepathy at the negotiating table. Easy way to get an advantage, right? As it happens, my people branched off from the Iktotchi thousands of years ago. Sadly, we didn't inherit quite as many telepathic gifts as they did, but we've got more than enough to tell when someone's tryin' to sneak around our heads. And while my people might have a certain natural talent for telepathy, I know for a fact that readin' minds ain't normal for Bothans, so I'm guessin' you're either an Imp Knight or a Jedi. Either way, we can't afford to have you snoopin' around here askin' questions…"

Yaqeel froze. All around her, the other First Order agents were already reaching into their jackets. Any hope of preserving her cover was dead. The split second before Thaeeti pulled his trigger, Yaqeel ignited her lightsaber. With a low hum, the amber blade swooped upwards, slicing through the table and Thaeeti's blaster pistol like a hot knife through butter. Already the other operatives had drawn their blasters and opened fire, but Yaqeel felt the Force flowing through her aged muscles, propelling her to blinding speeds as she batted the hellish bolts right back. One agent fell back screaming as a deflected blaster shot struck him in the hand. Another three felt their pistols tearing right out of their hands before flying across the room. Switching to a single-handed grip, Yaqeel clutched the fingers on her free hand together, telekinetically grabbing the sliced remains of the table before launching them forward with a flick of her wrist. The pieces smashed into the three remaining agents, splintering on impact and leaving most of them unconscious.

Her blade still lit, Yaqeel ran into the main room of the cantina. It was chaos: most patrons had started scrambling for the exit the second they heard the blasterfire. Others had drawn their own pistols and taken up firing positions behind whatever cover the bar and tables could afford. How many of them were First Order operatives and how many of them were just regular customers following their instincts, Yaqeel could not tell, but either way, she was under a rain of crimson bolts again. Guided by decades of attuning her feelings to the Living Force, Yaqeel moved her blade in fluid figure-eights until she advanced as a fearsome wall of glowing amber. Reaching through the Force once more, the Bothan Jedi lifted several strewn pieces of furniture off the floor and hurled them towards her attackers. One bar stool struck a shooter head-on, taking him out instantly. A long table slammed into another three, pushing them back until it pinned them to the wall. A hail of drink glasses smashed into a further pair of assailants, sending glinting shards in all directions.

In the corner of her eye, Yaqeel caught sight of one patron – a rather stout Twi'lek male – drunkenly stumbling into the bar through a side door, noticing all the weapons fire and levitating furniture, and swiftly exiting again. Moving the floating tables and chairs into the path of oncoming blaster bolts before launching the objects right at the shooters, Yaqeel pressed forward, leaving a trail of destruction. By now she had incapacitated nearly every assailant in the cantina. Two more figures moved towards her – one Weequay, one Rodian. The Weequay brought up a stocky blaster carbine, laying down an intense stream of close-range blasterfire. Yaqeel's blade moved faster, blocking the rapid bolts with uncanny speed before the Jedi snatched the carbine clean from her opponent's grip with telekinesis. She followed it up with a well-placed Force push, sending her opponent crashing into the nearest wall. Wasting no time, Yaqeel brought her blade around to meet the Rodian.

Just when she was about to disarm her last attacker, a loud thump rang out.

Standing still for about a second, the Rodian slumped to the floor, revealing a figure behind him.

It was a human female: very young – no older than twenty by Yaqeel's reckoning, with light skin and brown hair. Dressed in a simple desert tunic, she stood over the unconscious Rodian, gripping the staff with which she had struck him over the head. With a disconcertingly wide smile and a sparkle of excitement in her hazel eyes, the girl reached out her hand to Yaqeel.

"Hi, I'm Rey!"

Author's note: Finally, both my pairs of main characters meet!

As you've no doubt gathered by this point, as charming as I find Poe and Finn's interactions in the real Episode VII (though almost certainly more through the efforts of the actors than the writers!), I never thought it made much sense for them to hit it off so quickly. Ultimately, Finn is a stormtrooper who's been through years of indoctrination in a fascist group that he wouldn't simply be able to shake off like that, or at least not to the point of making instant friends with the enemy. As such, I wanted show Finn properly struggling with his newfound doubts about the First Order and Poe patiently working to exploit those doubts in a way that makes Finn's defection more believable.

While you wait for the jailbreak and Jakku chase scenes, perhaps you'd like to guess where the name 'Darkwater' comes from?

As always, please leave a comment!

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