Chapter 4: FN-2187 I

The hollow rattle changed into a buffeting roar as they plunged into the atmosphere, causing the overhead lights to flicker, dim, flicker again and stabilise.

They were attached directly to their harnesses by hardpoint anchors in their armour that transmitted every shake and vibration through to them.

FN-2187 was cool and composed. His heartrate was shown on the heads-up display in his helmet and was smooth and regular. He had trained for this for more than ten years.

His radio crackled. 'You okay, Eight-Seven?' Came the voice of FN-2199 from a few seats down the aisle.

He made to respond several times, discarding several answers, well aware that every second of his first drop as squad leader was being monitored back on the ship. He opted for polite, but informal. 'I'm good, thanks Nines, you?'

'You know it!' Nines said, laughing. 'Been waiting forever for this!'

'Eight-Seven's still not ready for his armour, let alone a combat drop.' Came the voice of FN-2179 from the top of the boat in his place beside the Lieutenant. 'Don't worry, we'll look after you.'

FN-2187 leaned forward against his restraints and could just make out 2179's outline, complete with his new sergeant's pauldron, somehow blacker than the moments when the lights failed.

He swallowed hard again and put his head back as he'd been trained. Seven-Nine and he had been part of the same intake of recruits and had been made sergeant just a month earlier.

'Twenty seconds.' The pilot reported as their harnesses were released.

The lieutenant stood and faced the whole drop pod. 'Their position has been weakened ahead of time. It is for us to secure the landing site and ensure no one gets away.' She said over the comm.

Simultaneously the five sergeants stood and the fifteen squad leaders received activation orders. FN-2187 stood, feeling the servos in his armour buzz gently over his bodyglove under his armour.

'Ten seconds.'

He chinned open his squad channel. 'KT squad, on-point!'

His squad stood, only a couple of them visibly shaken by the drop. He hoped that they would all make it to the ground without vomiting. They shouldered their rifles and grabbed the overhead rails as the boat started rocking violently.

FN-2187 took his own rifle from the rack above his seat and grabbed the rail, closing his eyes.

He forced his mind to remember his training. He had been preparing for this moment the last ten years, since his parents gave him over to The First Order. He took a deep breath as he remembered the cold expression of the captain, addressing him and his other new squad leaders just three weeks ago. How he had gone from a mop to a fully loaded blaster rifle and responsibility for ten other troopers in six weeks was beyond him.

'Three, two, one.'

The drop pod door opened on a world on fire. KM squad, at the front of the boat burst out, led by the sergeant and their squad leader.

As soon as their boots touched the ramp, blaster-fire started cutting them down.

Anxiety for the battle ahead started to flood FN-2187's mind but was interrupted by a cold wave of cool certainty.

The combat stims drove away his fear and cleared his mind, leaving behind only his training. Looking over his squad, he could see clearly the subtle shivers that ran through them. They were united then, fearless.

'KT squad, ho!' he roared, raising his rifle and charging toward the mouth of the drop pod.

'Good luck, little brother.' Said Seventy-Nine over the comm. 'I'll see you when we've secured our first victory here.'

FN-2187 smiled detachedly as he took his first step down the ramp, feeling the ripple of real gravity grabbing him after months of exactly one, artificially generated g.

He took in the bodies of twenty, no – twenty-three downed troopers around him and raised his rifle, firing and driving their targets back behind cover.

It was exactly like in the sims and their years of training. He issued commands as if by instinct and saw as his men responded, turning their weapons wherever needed.

Over there was Nines led his squad, all armed with close-combat suppression gear. They struck down everyone in their path as they headed toward their objective.

A scream broke his focus for a moment.

Turning, he saw the newest member of his squad, FN-2441 caught full in the visor by a bolt of blaster fire, a hole burned cleanly through the glass.

Shuddering, feeling the edge fade off his stims, he chinned the control to dispense more and ran toward cover.

The impact of his back hitting the shelter rocked through him as he caught his breath.

He was out of breath. That wasn't supposed to happen – the stims. He chinned the dispenser again, the action one of mnemonic programming and instruction drilled into him over years.

Nothing.

'Eight-Seven?' Said a weak voice nearby, not over comm.

He looked down and saw a trooper, his chest armour torn open by some kind of impact, a horizontal slash like a blade.

The black pauldron made FN-2187's mouth go dry. He knelt and pulled off the helmet.

Beneath, he saw sergeant FN-2179. Blood flecking his lips beneath wide, terrified eyes. He reached a hand up to FN-2187 and touched his face-plate as his eyes rolled back into his head. The hand fell away, leaving behind three red streaks over FN2187's vision.

He collapsed back, landing on his backside and leaning against the wall. His heart was pounding in his chest. He tried to breathe, tried to remember his training, tried to focus.

In his helmet, a display told him that five of his ten men were down, four of them already dead.

Shaking, he pressed the stim dispenser again. Nothing.

He radioed the command channel and was skipped past Seventy-Nine's frequency, straight to the lieutenant.

'Lieutenant sir, this is FN-2187, over.' He said, stammering the words. There was no hint of command to be heard in his voice.

There was no reply from the lieutenant.

Another of his men fell. Then another.

'Squad leader.' He heard over his comm. It was FN-2394: his status read "Wounded" next to his name.

FN-2187 swallowed in a dry throat and stood. His training was forgotten, but his men needed him. He staggered toward Three-Nine-Seven, following a small inverted triangle across the ruined area.

The fighting was dying down. To his right, next to the ruins of the buildings, he saw an old man, surrounded by Nines and his squad, kneeling on the ground, his hands behind his back.

According to his display, Three-Nine-Seven was just ten meters away. FN-2187 continued forward into a wall of smoke and saw…

It was like a blaster bolt, but waving back and forth. It was a beam of bright, pale blue light being held by a boy. A boy younger than himself.

The boy struck forward, swinging the light toward a trooper with impossible speed. The trooper paused then fell, his head dropping away from his body.

The boy was fast, way too fast. He darted left then right and forward again, killing two troopers with one swing of the strange weapon.

Then from overhead came a rumbling of engines and the night was lit up with heavy blaster fire. The ground around the boy and the troopers erupted in fire and smoke.

Three-Nine-Seven's signal disappeared.