FINN. FN-2187. Finn. FN-2187.

He batted the two names around in his head as Jakku’s winds batted him around in the ejection seat. What happened in the next few moments would seal his name and his fate. If his seat’s booster rockets failed to fire or the parachute didn’t release, he’d crash into the planetary surface and perish, remembered by those in the First Order as renegade trooper FN-2187.

But if he survived, his name would be whatever he chose to tell others.

The booster rockets fired. The black chute released. His descent slowed, almost imperceptibly at first but enough so that when he smashed into Jakku’s surface, the impact only fractured his armor while his rattled bones stayed in his body.

He unbuckled himself and staggered to his feet. The desert of Jakku spread out as far as his eye could see. Only to the east was the vista of sand broken. Smoke plumed into the sky.

He hastened toward it.

The crashed TIE fighter was still burning when he arrived. He stepped over sharp pieces of the fuselage to get closer. “Poe? Say something if you can hear me—Poe!”

The elbow of an arm dangled out from what remained of the cockpit. He ran to it, grabbing and pulling. But the arm didn’t belong to Poe. It belonged to Poe’s empty flight jacket.

“Poe!”

The hot smoke obscured the inside of the cockpit, probably for the best. Flight jackets were manufactured with materials that could withstand high temperatures, but human skin still had its limits. Poe likely had been burnt beyond recognition.

The ground shifted, collapsing under the TIE. Sand poured into the recesses of the wreck and the TIE started to sink into the hole its impact had made. Finn leapt free before the quicksand could claim him, too.

Yes, Finn. Finn was his name now.

Watching the TIE vanish into the sand, Finn called out his friend’s name one last time. He wished he could have saved Poe’s life again.

Finn was still alive, though after a day or two under Jakku’s sun, that wouldn’t be the case. Stormtrooper training had taught him how to fight in the desert, not how to live in it.

“I don’t—know what—to do!” he cried out in anger.

His yell died without so much as an echo. He was alone, but probably not for much longer. The First Order would have tracked the TIE’s trajectory and would send troops. Either Finn took his chances with them or with the desert.

Finn chose the desert.

He strode out in a random direction, shedding his armor as he went and holding up Poe’s jacket as shade. If the universe had any sort of compassion, perhaps he’d stumble across a settlement or drinking hole before Jakku became his grave.

Rey wove a confusing path through Niima Outpost’s marketplace. BB-8 rolled with her and never complained. But after they’d put enough distance between themselves and Unkar Plutt, the droid started to gush with beeps.

She bent down to his level. “You’re welcome for not selling you.” The droid didn’t let up singing her praises. “Okay, stop thanking me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who you’re waiting for.”

What BB-8 chirped next was far from grateful. Rey rose, insulted. “Can you trust me? What do you think?”

The droid nudged her leg and tweedled something that wasn’t just an apology. She huffed. “You’re waiting for your master. Who?”

BB-8 chirped, then squeaked out a one-syllable name.

“Poe?”

The droid whirled around, sent into a tizzy. After a few rotations, he halted and began to quiz her about her knowledge of galactic history.

“Yes, I know what the Rebellion was—and yes, I’ve heard of the Resistance.” She frowned when the droid mentioned another faction. “The First Order? They’re horrible. Rumor has it an attack squadron of theirs destroyed the sacred village close to here.”

The droid described the attack with such detail that Rey was appalled. “You were there?”

BB-8 quit beeping. Shadows on the ground alerted Rey to two hoodlums wrapped in smelly rags coming at them.

“Plutt wants droid,” said one. “We take droid. Female don’t interfere.”

Rey stood her ground. “The droid’s mine. I didn’t sell him. Plutt knows that.”

The other stepped in front of Rey. “You are right. Plutt knows that. You didn’t sell. So he take.”

The thug held Rey in place while his partner threw a sack over a screeching BB-8.

Kylo Ren strode across the Finalizer’s command bridge. Around him, junior officers and technicians operated an array of equipment, scanning, searching, and sifting through vast quantities of data. He paid them no attention, and they, with a shudder, gladly ignored him.

Ren approached General Hux and Captain Phasma, who were analyzing the holographic personnel records of a stormtrooper. FN-2187 had no previous offenses on his record. He superseded the norms on all his combat readiness tests, both physical and psychological, for the previous mission. From all indications, FN-2187 seemed to be the model stormtrooper.

So what had gone wrong with him, Phasma and Hux wondered aloud. Was his training to blame?

“Finding the flaw in your training methods won’t help recover the droid,” Ren said, joining them.

General Hux did not take his eyes off the holofile. “There are larger concerns than recovering that droid.”

“Not for me,” Ren said.

The general snorted. “What the Supreme Leader made clear was that the Resistance must not acquire the map to Skywalker. Capture the droid if we can—but destroy it if we must.”

Under no circumstances did Ren want the droid destroyed. He needed the BB unit intact to find Skywalker. But he couldn’t disclose that to Hux, because then the general would ensure his soldiers destroyed the droid, just to spite Ren.

“But how capable are your soldiers? They are obviously skilled at high treason,” Ren remarked, casting a glance at the holofile for FN-2187. “Perhaps the Supreme Leader should consider using a clone army.”

Hux glared at Ren. “Careful. I won’t have you questioning my methods. My men are exceptionally trained, programmed from birth—”

“Have you reviewed the scans of Jakku?” Ren asked. “Because I believe the droid is likely hidden among the wreckage at Niima Outpost.”

“We found the traitor’s armor—a trail in the desert, single tracks, headed toward Niima.” Hux glanced at Captain Phasma, who was standing, silent, next to him. “A strike team is en route.”

“Good,” Ren said. “Then I leave it to you, General. To retrieve the droid, unharmed.”

He strode off the bridge, relishing the fear he felt emanating from all those he passed.

Water.

Finn saw water. It didn’t matter that it was in a trough or that a squat, four-legged happabore was drinking it. All that mattered was that it was water.

He’d trekked across the desert and made it to a settlement—Niima Outpost, a sign had read. Yet until that water went down his throat, Finn refused to admit anything around him was real. He could be lost in his own desert daydream, his surroundings a mirage. Thirst made people crazy.

Finn dipped his hands into the trough and brought the water to his lips. Nothing had looked so refreshing in his whole life. He drank.

The water went down his throat—and then came back up. Gagging, he spit it out. Nothing had tasted so disgusting in his whole life.

The happabore bumped into Finn, causing him to fall over. Smacking the road made Finn realize that the place was no mirage.

Getting back onto his feet, he saw something in the outpost’s bazaar that made him momentarily forget his thirst. Two brutes in grubby rags were assaulting a young woman who looked only a few years younger than Finn.

But the closer Finn got, the more it seemed that the young woman was assaulting them.

She pivoted, leapt, and somehow brought down the thug who had tried to pin her in place. The other ruffian dropped the sack he held and rushed her. He should have picked a fight with someone bigger. Drawing her staff from her back, she clubbed and kicked him into submission. By the time Finn reached her, both thugs were knocked out cold.

Wanting to help, and a bit curious, Finn removed the sack from whatever these brutes had wanted to steal. The droid that rolled out astonished him.

It was a BB astromech unit. Orange and white. One of a kind, he recalled Poe saying.

He had found Poe’s droid.

He also found the girl’s staff swinging at his head.

Finn ducked, shouting an objection, but she did not stop. Knowing he was in no condition to fight, he ran, cutting a path of chaos through the marketplace. Merchants cursed him as he toppled shelves and stalls, spilling their wares.

Glancing back and not seeing her, he slowed, believing himself free—until his chest collided with her staff. He lacked the energy to do anything except crumple to the ground.

She loomed over him, brandishing her weapon. “What’s your hurry, thief?”

Before Finn could explain himself, the BB unit spun over and zapped him with its electro-arm. Finn yelped.

“The jacket.” She poked her staff into his arm. “This droid says you stole it.”

Finn wanted water and shade, not to waste his breath talking about a jacket. “Listen, I don’t want to fight with you. I’ve already had a pretty messed-up day. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t accuse me of being a thief—” He got zapped again. “Ow! Stop it!”

“How’d you get it?” She prodded him harder with her staff. “It belongs to his master.”

Finn looked over at the BB unit, somewhat concerned about what the electro-arm would do when he told the truth. “His master’s dead,” Finn said.

The droid’s radar eye stared at him, but the electro-arm remained uncharged.

“His name was Poe Dameron…right?” The droid did not answer. Finn addressed the girl. “He was captured by the First Order. I helped him escape.”

“So you’re with the Resistance?” the young woman asked.

Finn glanced at the metal staff that could still club him unconscious. “Obviously,” he lied. “I’m with the Resistance…yes, I am.”

The young woman seemed to believe him. She swung her staff away from him to point at the droid. “Beebee-Ate says he’s on a secret mission. Says he needs to get back to the nearest Resistance base.”

Finn turned back to the droid and remembered what Poe had told him. “Apparently he’s carrying a map that leads to Luke Skywalker, and everyone’s insane to get their hands on it.”

“I thought Luke Skywalker was just a myth.”

Finn almost laughed. “Really?”

BB-8 broke his mournful silence with a panicked squawk. “What is it?” the girl asked. “Over there?” She took a few steps for a better view. Finn stood and followed.

The thugs who had attacked her earlier had regained consciousness and were conversing with two stormtroopers. A meaty arm motioned in their general vicinity.

Finn snatched the young woman’s hand and began to backpedal through the bazaar. “Hey!” she yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Beebee-Ate, come on!” Finn called out.

The droid did as instructed, seconds before blaster bolts pitted the area where they’d been standing. Pulling the girl with him, Finn caused even more chaos in the bazaar. Merchants cursed him again as he overturned stalls they had just rearranged.

“Let go of me!” The young woman wrested her hand free. But she didn’t knock Finn flat with it. Instead she pointed toward a building. “This way!”

They hurried into a tent that appeared to be used as storage. A pile of salvage provided them cover, but Finn found nothing in it that he could use as an adequate weapon.

Just when it sounded like the troopers had run past and they were safe, BB-8 raised an alarm and zipped to the back of the structure. Finn grabbed the girl’s hand again to follow.

“Stop taking my hand!”

Her voice was the last thing he heard before the front of the tent exploded.

The shockwave hurled Rey off her feet, and all of a sudden she was eating dirt. She spit it out and lifted herself off the ground. Through the partially collapsed ceiling, she glimpsed TIE fighters screaming overhead, raining laser fire on all of Niima Outpost.

She looked over at the young man who claimed he was part of the Resistance. He lay facedown on the ground, unmoving. He must have been telling her the truth. The First Order didn’t send starfighters after common criminals.

She went to the young man and turned him over. He remained unconscious for a moment, and then his eyes opened. He spoke first. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She stretched out her hand. He looked at it, then took it. But she quickly let go once she had helped him up. “Follow me.”

What was left of Niima Outpost burned and smoked. Laser fire had set tents aflame and turned hovels once beloved as homes into rubble. And there was more to come. The two TIE fighters circled back for another strafing run. Merchants, scavengers, and townsfolk alike trampled over one another, searching for a place to hide. Rey slid her staff through her back straps and led the young man and BB-8 to a place where no one else was going—a clearing that was the town’s starport. Surrounding it were a few grounded starships covered in tarps to protect their components from sandstorms.

Rey sprinted under an archway and across the airfield, with BB-8 and the young man keeping pace. But he was clearly perplexed by her decision and glanced back at the TIEs streaking in their direction. “Isn’t there any shelter around here? We can’t outrun them!”

She indicated a vehicle parked at the airfield’s edge. “We might in that quadjumper.”

The young man dismissed it outright. “I’m a gunner. We need a pilot.”

“We have one,” Rey said confidently.

“You?” His skepticism was something she’d be sure to make him regret.

He pointed at a dilapidated, disc-shaped Corellian freighter that was one of Plutt’s personal clunkers. “How about that ship? It’s closer—and if nothing else, we can get out of sight.”

“That one’s garbage. We need something that’ll move, not just get off the ground,” Rey said.

A barrage from the TIEs blew the quadjumper apart, raining the landing area with metal.

“The garbage’ll do!” Rey said.

They veered and ran up the boarding ramp of the freighter. On a whim, Rey tried the controls on the other side of the hatch. To her surprise, the ramp drew back and the hatch closed. Maybe this hunk of junk wasn’t quite as junky as it looked.

She and BB-8 headed to the cockpit, where she ditched her staff and plopped down in the pilot’s seat. She flipped a switch on the console and the controls illuminated. A little dusty, perhaps, but perfectly readable.

“Gunner’s position is down below,” she called to the young man.

“You ever fly this thing?” he shouted back.

“Nobody’s flown this crate in years.”

She initiated the launch sequence. Nothing happened. The engines remained cold. Then she noticed an aftermarket pump had been rigged to the fuel line. She primed the pump and reinitiated the sequence. The engines blazed to life.

“I can do this, I can do this,” she told herself. Strangely, she could’ve sworn she heard the young man say the same.

The underside repulsors clicked on and lifted the freighter out from under its tarp. But its return to flight was nearly short-lived. It whirled to starboard and dipped, knocking over the archway to the airfield and toppling a vaporator. Only at the last instant did Rey get the control yoke unstuck, avoiding a fiery crash.

She pulled back on the yoke. The freighter rose into the sky, roaring with new life.

In the town below, she saw Unkar Plutt crouch out of his ruined booth and shake his fist at the ship.

But he was the least of her concerns. The two TIEs banked away from Niima Outpost and pursued them.