A menacing figure in black robes stalked towards Rey, it's face hidden behind a helmet of sark metal and chrome. Rey scrambled backwards, falling to the cold, hard metal floor of the flight deck. The figure radiated hatred. It rolled off him like heat that singed Rey's skin. Blood dripped from the creature's gloved hands, behind it Sa'Meli's slight frame lay unmoving on the floor. Her slender blue face still, her eyes closed.
Rey sobbed, her body shaking with terror even as she realised this was a dream. It had been WIndrider that had killed Sa'meli, not this terrifying black figure. The officers could do whatever they wanted to slaves like her; no one would stop him. This was how life is for the Chiss in the First Order. Something about the feeling from the figure was worse; if the Officers would beat her for fun then this thing, this dark creature would kill her without a thought.
The figure loomed over her, its anger so intense that Rey could feel it; a slick, hot grasp that slipped unwelcome into her mind. Rey whimpered, too scared to scream. Her mother had told her about this creature. About the war that had subjugated the Chiss and the stories of the monsters with swords of red light that had defeated even the great Chiss Ascendancy.
There was no fighting these unnatural creatures, the humans spoke of tales of other beings who could stand against them but the Chiss had no such ability. All they could do was run, surrender or die. Eventually they had chosen surrender and their people had become slaves. Facing down the creature now with all its power and horror Rey understood why.
The creature's armoured boot moving too slowly through the cold air of the ship, down toward Rey's face. She watched it come toward her; the fear overwhelming her, consuming her. Faintly she heard the sound of a scream, was that Sa'Meli or…
Rey woke screaming, the creature's hidden face filling her mind. Her skin felt raw, burned like she had stood close to a launching TIE. She was covered in a layer of sweat and her tongue was thick and dry in her mouth. The dream had felt so real, she swore she could smell the chemical scent of starfighter fuel. The way she had felt the creature's rage…
Rey shivered, that nightmare had been worse than normal.
Only then did she realise she didn't know where she was. The fear crept back up like bile in her throat. She was lying on a rough blanket inside a low tent, it's walls made of patched fabric strung across rusted struts that looked like they came from a ship. The floor was mostly bare sand and a few more ragged blankets. It smelled of old oil and stale sweat.
Where was she? All she remembered was stealing the TIE, of somehow navigating to the Outer Rim. Then the chase, plunging through the clouds and… Windrider, his seething face, a flash of green.
She shivered despite her the heat inside her. Outside her too, she realised. It was stiflingly hot inside the tent, even the ground beneath her blanket was hot, the sand radiating heat like a Solar wing after a flight. It had been a desert planet she had been heading to hadn't it? But how had she survived? And how did she end up here?
"Are you alright?" A harsh, gravelly voice asked from outside. Rey froze; was it the First Order? Had they come chasing her to the planet's surface? "I'm coming in, I have water, you must be thirsty."
The flap of the tent parted and a strange creature entered. Rey scrambled back, more frightened than if it had been a Stormtrooper in white armour. The alien had a long, broad face with drooping tendrils by its mouth and a scraggly white beard that framed it's pointed head. The alien looked old, its brown skin lined and weathered with age.
Rey stared in a mix of fear and confusion. She had never seen anything except Chiss and Humans. Her whole life had been lived a board a single Starship, but she had never seen the galaxy.
"It's alright, I won't hurt you." The creature said softly. His thick, leathery fingers held a small clay bowl of water. Rey looked from it to his small brown eyes. "It's water. You do drink water right? Here." The Alien offered Rey the bowl.
She eyed him for a moment, realising for the first time how much her throat hurt, how much all of her hurt. She carefully reached out for the bowl, her fingers had barely brushed the rough surface before she snatched it away, spilling some of it on the ragged blanket.
Rey scrambled backwards into the skin of the tent, a lifetime of instinct taking over. That was how you had to be as a slave aboard a First Order ship, quick, careful and mistrusting. Some of the officers liked to taunt them and offer them food only to take away until they had completed their tasks. She gulped it down before the alien had a chance to say anything. The col was a welcome change from the tent's heat but a moment later half of it came back up in ragged coughs.
"Easy there, I'm not going to take it away. Water is precious here. It is to be shared with any who survive the desert." The creature smiled, his small mouth stretching wider, its tendrils twitching.
"Where… Where am I?" Rey whispered, still clutching the empty bowl to her chest.
"You're on Jakku child, a planet where most things come to die. Why have you come?"
Rey swallowed, could she trust this Alien? The stories that the First Order and their trusted Chiss had told her had said that the Galaxy was populated by bandits, thugs and murders. It was only the honourable First Order that could bring peace. She remembered WIndrider's angry face, the limp body of Sa'Meli and the blood on his knuckles. Could this alien be any worse?
Rey shook her head, "I came here to live. I stole a ship and escaped." Rey hesitated for a moment, looking into the alien's small, grey eyes. Could she trust this creature? "I need to find the New Republic. I need to help them live too."
"The New Republic? Then I'm afraid you have come to the wrong place child, the last time they were here it rained death from the skies. Now they sit in their shining cities and care only about the core systems. Worlds like Jakku and the Outer Rim have been left to rot. Even the great Skywalker has vanished." Rey had never seen one of these aliens before, but she could hear the distaste and the sadness in his voice.
"But how can I find them? The First Order already conquered my people. They have sworn to do the same to the Republic, and to kill this… Skywalker."
The creature laughed ruefully, shaking his head, his tendrils waving side to side as his lips curled into another smile. "Kill Skywalker? They can try, I'm not even sure he exists. The Jedi are legends, why not him too?" He sighed, "Perhaps we don't deserve heroes anymore."
Rey didn't know what the creature meant by "Jedi." She only knew what the Stormtroopers and Officer had discussed; the speeches made by Supreme Leader Snoke and General Hux that were broadcast in her ship. They spoke of Skywalker as the grand enemy, the one who forced them into the Unknown Regions, forced them to conquer the Chiss. If this "Skywalker" was real then he should be very afraid. The First Order were coming for him they were…
Here.
Rey froze. She felt something, the same slick grasp from her dreams. It wrapped around her, burning her skin and blowing through her. It felt wrong; a sickening touch that her body cringed away from.
Her senses snapped into place and for a moment the world around her was clear. She could smell the musky scent of the alien's hair, feel the heat rolling off each grain of sand beneath her and the hot, suffocating air in her throat. Panic flared in her, her mind racing; telling her to run, to hide. She could feel her heat hammering in her chest, the sound drowning out everything else. What was happening?
"Elder! There are people approaching, Bathi says it's the Empire!" Rey's world cracked back into normalcy as the tent of the flap was thrown open and a sweating young human rushed in.
"The Empire? No…" The alien looked back at Rey, fear plain in his eyes. "Hide child. We will find a way for you to escape. If you truly have not come to die then we should honour that." With that the alien stood and left, leaving Rey alone. The disgusting feeling still lingering in her throat.
FN-2187 stood behind his brother, FN-2159, peering over his armoured shoulder. The scavenger village was finally in sight after they had marched through the hot day. The sun was starting to set, turning the sky to shades of orange and the thin clouds into long streaks of blood.
The village wasn't extensive; just a small assortment of a few dozen or so tents and some ramshackle buildings built in the lee of a massive dune. There was a handful of civilians, most of them human but a few were alien species that 2187 had been briefed on.
He stared at the aliens, fascinated by how different they were but disgusted by their lack of human form. Every Stormtrooper was brought up on a combination of military drills and instruction on the traitorous New Republic. He knew that many of its citizens were barbaric aliens but he had only ever seen holos and pictures of the few who approached him now. They looked nothing like the rabid monsters from the stories his instructors had used to frighten the children.
In fact, they looked quite pitiful. Most of them were covered in rags or had their sunburned skin exposed to the elements. The difference between what he saw and what had had been told was so stark he could barely recognise most of them at first.
The only one he immediately recognised was an old Abednedo. He had a wild mane of white hair and short, drooping mouth tendrils. He limped across the sand, leaning on a tall walking stick at the front of the pathetic group of civilians.
"Who are you?" The old Abednedo called, his voice barely strong enough to make it across the empty sand. "The Empire is long dead, Jakku is a place of peace now. We just wish to be left alone."
No one moved for a moment. The only sound was the creak of armour and the soft breeze that played across the sand. 2187 watched the village behind the people, his blaster heavy in his hand; the New Republic was full of criminals and thugs. Surely the frail civilians were a ruse. Were there murders hiding between the tents, ready to leap out and attack?
"Bring us the girl and we will leave you be! The First Order does not wish to harm it's newest citizens." The Lieutenant called, her voice shaking a little. 2187 didn't blame her. Just being around Ren felt wrong. He could only imagine that she was thinking of what he had done to her predecessor.
"We have seen no girl! If you seek the crashed ship then it fell to the north. We left it alone, there are enough old carcasses here." The Abednedo and his group turned their back on the Lieutenant and began their walk back to the village.
Ren stepped forward, his long black cape swaying in the breeze. His hand shot out, gloved fingers splayed wide and the old Abednedo stopped in his track. The walking stick fell to the ground as his arms swung out to his sides. He started to scream, his head arched back and he was lifted off the sand.
It was over a moment later. The old Abednedo's scream ended in a hacking cough and his hands fell limp. Ren dropped his hand, the body fell lifelessly to the sand as if connected to Ren by a string. Ren didn't even spare it a second glance, he drew his saber and ignited it, the red blade turning the sand beneath it to glass.
Fn-2187 could hardly believe what he was seeing; how could Master Ren do this? The Abednedo had had his back turned, he was no threat to Ren. Where was the honour in this? 2187 had spent his entire life being taught of the honour of the First Order, of their righteousness. They were here to bring justice and to welcome these people as the first new members of the Order.
"Squads advance!"
The order came from the young lieutenant, her voice cracked but she gave the order with as much dignity as she could muster. The Stormtroopers began their advance. The stomp of their boots muted by the sand accompanied the snap and crackle sound of activated Vibrobayonets. 2187 found he couldn't move. His fellow troopers jostling him as they marched in, eager for their first taste of combat.
"2187! Advance for your Order!" The sergeant was at the head of his column, distinguishable by his wide, orange pauldron. 2187 stared at him for a moment, confused. The old Abednedo's scream was ringing in his ears; how could he obey? How could he be a part of what was about to happen?
The sergeant's familiar armour, the same type that 2187 wore, took on a disturbing, inhuman quality. He became not a man in armour but a cold, passionless machine, like those from the old wars. Just an unthinking droid that didn't care who it killed.
Did he look like that too?
A moment later the sergeant's chest was vaporised in a flash of bright blue light. The man had just enough time to scream before he tipped face first into the sand. 2187 was just registering what happened when more Stormtroopers in the front rank fell. Their comrades returned fire a heartbeat later and chaos descended on the village.
The Stormtroopers surged forward, racing for the cover of the tents and lean-tos. Flashes of blue blaster fire danced between them as the scavengers fought back. 2187 moved then, running for the tents more out of fear than a sense of duty. His mind was racing, his thoughts surging over each other like raging gases in a nebula.
Had Ren been right to kill the old Adbenedo? Was everything he had been taught true; were these scavengers New Republic thugs? But Ren had started it by killing the man. Were they in the right to fire back? 2187 felt tears stinging his dark eyes, his vision blurring inside his stifling helmet. What was he supposed to do? Who was wrong? Where was the honour in this?
The Stormtroopers made short work of the Scavengers scattered resistance. Screams echoed from within the labyrinth of shacks, often followed by the whirr of a Vibroblade. 2187 made it to the edge of the village and stumbled into a tent. It was hardly taller than he and made of old, frayed leather and rusted sheet metal. Inside it was dark and quiet, the metal holding back the sounds of carnage outside.
2187 ripped off his helmet just in time. He retched and vomited on the bare sand of the tents' floor. He kneeled there, his rifle forgotten, his body sweating and shaking as he vomited. The pain in his throat was a blessing; it gave him something to think about other than the raging emotions inside him.
He stopped retching just in time to see that he wasn't alone in the tent.
There was a young man across from him, barely older than 2187. The man wore what looked like the orange remnants of an old Rebel Alliance flight uniform. The two stared at each other for moment. 2187 on his hands and knees, the young man on his feet, staring at 2187 with a mixture of fear and hatred.
"I- I'm sorry. I don't want to-" 2187 didn't get to finish. The man leapt forward with a shriek. He kicked 2187 hard in the side of the head, sending him sprawling backward into the entrance of the tent. The young man kept up, pouncing onto 2187. He threw a flurry of frantic, wild punches at 2187's head.
The blows were quick but powerless and uncontrolled. 2187's body moved on its own, years of combat training taking over. He reached up to grab the young man's arm, pulling him off balance and then threw him up and over him with his armoured knees. The strike knocked the young man out of the tent and 2187 rolled over, scrabbling to his feet in the sand.
"Stop! I don't want to hurt you!"
The young man struggled to his feet, his eyes were wide with fear and his nose broken and bloodied. He looked around like a startled Womp rat, his home, his life, burning down around him. 2187 could understand why the man had attacked him. He wasn't a thug. He was just terrified.
So was 2187.
The young man started to say something when FN-2201 came around a nearby shack and bayoneted the man from behind.
The vibrating blade passed clean through his chest with a single motion. It tore through muscle and bone effortlessly. Dark blood sprayed from the man's wound onto the pale sand. 2201 shrugged the body off his blade and flicked off the blood. He looked down at 2187, his expression unreadable behind the featureless helmet.
"Thanks '87. You set him up for me." 2187 could hear the smile in his brother's voice.
2201 shrugged and lowered his hand to 2187. His black glove was slick with blood. 2187 stared at it for moment. 2201 was his brother, he had known him all his life. They had fought together against the other units countless times. They had suffered together and shared victories together. This was what they had been raised for. So why was 2187 repulsed by him now?
There was a cry from behind them and out of a small avenue between the tents another scavenger came running. It was an older human woman, her features eerily similar to the dead man in front of them. She slid to a stop in the sand when she saw the two Stormtroopers, then screamed when she saw the corpse.
2201 was already raising his blaster when she ran forward and crashed into him, sobbing. His blaster was trapped between his body and hers, the barrel pointed harmlessly at the sand. The two struggled to separate, a tangle of thrashing limbs and screeching voices. 2187 was so focused on them that he never saw Kylo Ren follow the woman in.
His red lightsabre punched through both of them. The blade punched through the back of 2201's armour with a crackle of barely restrained energy. The woman died silently but 2201 grunted and turned away before he fell into 2187.
2201 slowly raised a bloodied hand, reaching out desperately to 2187. His fingers found the top of his chest plate, they slid over the lip of the armour and held so tightly that 2187 couldn't move.
"Leave him. Find the girl." Ren barely spared them a second look, turning away with a sweep of his cloak. 2187 watched him walk away, anger swelling inside him. Everything he, 2201 and the rest of FN squad had done had been for the Order and the officers like Ren.
They had done things to the other cadet squads that filled his nightmares. They had been told it been for the greater good of the Order. The officers were supposed to be the parents the troopers had never known.
Was this how his parents, his "family" treated them? Ren was a murderer, and he had murdered 2187's brother.
He held 2201 until he stopped moving and his brother's grip on his armour loosened. Gently he pushed the body off him. His brother's blood left a bright red hand print on 2187's white chest plate. 2187 arranged his body as respectfully as he good, leaving the man's blaster by his side. It still didn't feel right, leaving his brother lying in the sand of a dead world. Was this supposed to be the fate of all the Stormtroopers?
2187's helmet smelled of bile and blood as he slipped it back on and walked deeper into the village. The fighting was dying down, angry shouts and blaster fire replaced by moans of pain and quiet sobbing. The scrubbers in 2187's helmet couldn't quite filter out the rank smell of burning flesh and smoke from tents that had caught flame.
He stumbled through the nightmare realm of the village, the silhouettes of Stormtroopers and civilians fading in and out of the smoke between the buildings. He still had a duty to do. He could serve his brothers and sisters but could he serve under the officers that had betrayed his trust? If he didn't have his duty, his family, then who was he?
2187 stopped in front of another low tent toward the far edge of the burning village. It was made of old fabric and scrap metal. Was there another frightened young man inside? Could 2187 save them? It was madness; his entire life had been spent obeying the First Order was he now thinking of disobeying them? It would be a betrayal, treason.
But could treasons sometimes be the right thing to do?
2187 swallowed down his fear. He couldn't actually feel 2201's blood on his chest, but it burned him all the same. He couldn't live with what he'd seen. He had to do something.
Very carefully he ducked into the tent.
"Stay away! I won't go back!"
2187 didn't even have time to blink before a rolled-up blanket bounced off his helmet. He fell backwards, his helmet slamming against the pole that supported the tent's entrance with a sharp ring. His vision swum for a heartbeat, the dim inside of the tent swaying and blurry. The blanket came down again and this time he was quick enough to reach up and catch it.
"Stop! I'm not going to hurt you. I- I want to help you." His voice wavered as he spoke, even saying it hurt. That was it, he was a traitor.
"Help? Don't lie to me! That's what Windrider said just before he..he…" The person holding the blanket dropped it and scurried backwards. 2187 could see now that it was a girl with familiar pale blue skin and glowing red eyes. It was the slave they had come looking for. He hadn't just betrayed the First Order by trying to help a random civilian. He had betrayed the very orders that had brought him here.
"Please, I just want to help. What's happening here isn't right."
Something about the Stormtrooper's voice, even distorted by his helmet made Rey stop. It felt like he was telling the truth. She looked up from the ground, her thin arms wrapped around her knees and stared into the black visor, one just like all the others she had seen in her life.
"How can I trust you?" She whispered.
"You'll just have to." The Stormtrooper held out his gloved hand. Rey stared at it for a second, fear and mistrust raging in her mind. How many times had the Stormtroopers aboard the Rax done the same only to beat the unfortunate Chiss slave?
Something whispered over the storm in her mind. Something quiet and calm that told her to trust him. Rey didn't know what it was but she knew, somehow, that she could trust it. It felt… right.
Rey reached out and grabbed the trooper's hand. Her thin blue fingers looked tiny in his thick, black gloves. That was when she noticed they were covered in warm blood.
"You found her! This is JD-5580, we've found the girl on the camp's eastern edge." Rey froze another Stormtrooper had marched into the tent, his sharp bayonet dripping blood by her face. The Stormtrooper had been lying.
2187 stepped back, shocked, he tried to say something but the expressionless mask of the JD trooper left him speechless. He looked down toward the young girl and froze. Her face was twisted in hatred.
Hatred directed straight at him.