Chapter Text
At first light, Rey was hefting BB-8 back over the lip in her doorway. She slung her staff over one shoulder, then slung her half-full scavenging bag over the other. She might as well visit Unkar while she was there. She’d started trying to build up parts before she traded them.
A trip to Niima spent enough energy that it would negate anything less than three portions. Rey had learned to ration that out over four days. She’d made it five before. But that had left her lightheaded, and she’d nearly plummeted the width of a star destroyer. After that, she didn’t push past four.
They set off north, keeping to the tops of the dunes. It took longer that way, the path meandering, but it was the safest way to cross the sinking fields. And while Rey could navigate the valleys with a bit of concentration, she didn’t have great faith in BB-8.
Niima rose, a blur on the horizon. It was hardly an oasis. The scatter of buildings set a hollowness in her chest. She’d die without them, she reminded herself. They may not provide everything she wanted. But they gave her what she needed.
When they descended the final dune, Rey pulled out her pin tool and cleared BB-8 of sand. They’d had to stop twice along the way, and still an enormous flood was expelled around her.
“You’re really not cut out for desert, are you?”
At her shins came a mournful beep.
Niima was thankfully flat, and the sand so packed that all that shifted atop it was a layer of dust. With any luck, she wouldn’t need to clear BB-8 again. She led him past the line forming outside Unkar’s hut and towards the Starport.
The outpost was busy. These things ebbed and flowed, but Rey was almost certain it was the busiest she’d seen it in a cycle. The scavenging tent, rigged up not too far from Unkar’s hut, was full. Rey was immensely glad she’d cleaned her haul back at the walker. Scrubbing them elbow to elbow with folks who had notoriously light fingers was never a pleasant experience. A heavy-set man brushed past her, and Rey clutched her bag tighter. It was a different kind of greed that lived on Jakku. Scavengers did not fight for wealth. They fought for survival, and that was a far more desperate game.
As they neared the port, Rey counted ships all the way down to the third stake. She glanced down. BB-8 was taking in the sight rapidly, head spinning after any hunched body that passed.
“Recognized anyone?” Rey asked hopefully.
A short beep—no.
Rey worried her lip. If they couldn’t find anything here, she really couldn’t afford to take him to Kelvin.
“Focus on the ships,” Rey said, slipping past the Starport Master when he turned to help a Twi'lek who was extremely angry about a scratch on her YT-1300. Picking up her pace before the man could turn back around, Rey led BB-8 up the first row. “Let me know if you see anything familiar.”
The first row offered nothing. They walked the second and the third, and BB-8 remained silent. Rey turned them around at the stake. BB-8 trailed slower after her. She didn’t think it had anything to do with accumulating sand.
Feeling dread unfurl in her stomach, Rey led BB-8 back out past the Starport Master, ignoring his high threats that he’d ticket a ship parked without payment. She glanced back the way they’d come; Unkar was leaning out his hut, talking to a group of men dressed in black. Passers-through, they had to be; no Jakku native would be caught in black. Rey thought she ought to give BB-8 a better look at them, but the longer she watched the men, the more unsettled she felt.
Heeding the prickle at the back of her neck, Rey turned north instead, towards the cantina. Their last hope of finding BB-8’s contacts was in there. Patrons spilled out the doors. Rey hesitated as she came upon it, and BB-8 ran into the back of her leg. She hissed, leaning down to rub out the ache. “Careful,” she chided, eying that overflowing doorway. From it, a man whistled in her direction, and Rey grit her teeth; she really tried to avoid the cantina.
What sounded like a commotion had erupted inside, and it had more sweat-slicked brows stumbling out, one of them knocking Rey’s shoulder as he went. Lovely. With a breath of resignation, Rey started for the door. BB-8 followed, his photoreceptor fixed on the building.
“Don’t run over any feet in there,” she advised, stepping below the shade of the awning. “Technically droids aren't allowed in, but no one really enforces–”
Rey flattened herself to the ground. She felt the buzz of the blaster as it soared over her back. Her heart pounded, her breath came quick, and she was dragging in dust. There was a flash of heat as return fire caught the awning above them and set the thing aflame.
Still pressed to the ground, Rey swung her gaze back over her shoulder. There was a stormtrooper. Rey blinked, struggling for a moment to comprehend the sight. Troopers came through every now and then, but they never– More fire, coming from the cantina this time. The stormtrooper ducked behind the north watering hole.
Reinforcements. White armoured figures were pouring from the starport. There came a crash behind her, and Rey looked back to see the cantina’s windows broken. Bodies were diving through the gaps and charging out the side doors. It was chaos as they sprinted for cover.
Rey tried to get her feet under her only to be knocked astray as a Rodian barreled past. A boot struck her temple, and for a moment, she lost BB-8 in the crush. There was a mess of legs around her, running every which way.
Kriff.
With her elbows out, Rey managed to pull herself up. Where was he? She ducked as another barrage of blaster fire ricocheted her way. Figures fled around her. Where was he? A resistance droid had wandered into her orbit, and now the First Order was besieging Niima Outpost. Rey wasn’t foolish enough to think that a coincidence.
The black figures were charging over to join the troopers. Blaster fire was leaving the cantina in steady streams, sending up spray and rubble from the watering hole, behind which the First Order’s troops had formed up.
A man wielding a blaster cannon appeared in the cantina doorway, sending out a bolt that struck a moisture vaporator and, with a boom, rendered it ash. Debris showered. A great crack sounded above, and before Rey could identify it, the awning came crashing down, drowning her in its flaming folds.
She was burning again. The heat’s familiar lick seared her skin. Rey crawled as fast as she could, fighting the other bodies trapped beneath it, catching limbs as all of them crawled blind. Something sharp and metal clamped onto the cloth at her shoulder, and suddenly Rey was being pulled the other way. She screamed, thrashing hard, but that claw held firm. She was fighting the thing when the blue sky broke above her.
Rey stilled. BB-8’s red light blinked down at her as he retracted a metal arm into his body. A harsh breath of relief left her, and she let her fingers trail the smooth edge of his side in thanks. It was all she could offer. She couldn’t speak. Her heart was in her throat, part of her still lost in a dream.
Sand stung the singed skin on her forearms, and all she could smell was burnt hair. She blinked at a cantina thoroughly aflame.
“Come on,” she choked through the smoke, dragging herself to her hands and knees, then her feet. “We have to get out of here.”
But BB-8 was whizzing past her, kicking up dust in his wake. He was making for the cantina, rolling over the still-burning awning as he went. He moved fast, heeding the beckoning hand from the cantina’s doorway—the resistance.
Rey was frozen, watching the droid go, watching Niima Outpost burn. Her task was complete; BB-8 was the resistance’s problem now. She should run. Escape while she was still breathing, before the flames found her again. But she was arrested, watching the droid move, watching him stop.
For a moment, Rey thought sand had collected in his body once more. But then he was moving again. The other way. He hovered slightly, inches off the ground, as he was pulled back towards the men in black.
No.
Rey took off, pulling her staff from her back. She sprinted for him, charging through the flames. It was too late. BB-8 had been yanked into the clutches of the First Order. Rey kept running. From the cantina, a grim order was called. And then the cannon that had obliterated the moisture vaporator was fixed on BB-8.
It fired. And the scared droid who followed her across the dunes exploded in a blaze of fire. The force of the blast knocked Rey back. She landed hard, head pounding, ears ringing. She could taste blood in her mouth. It trickled down her throat, and her stomach turned. She blinked bursts of light from her eyes, rolling onto her side. Her ears rung as she watched the resistance retreat. They were pouring out the cantina’s side door, and the stormtroopers were giving chase.
Rey got her knees under her, then stopped. BB-8’s photoreceptor had landed next to her. It blinked once, vibrant, red, then the light went out. Tears stung her eyes. Her throat swelled. She touched the jagged thing lightly, and then a blast behind her slammed her back into darkness.
This time it was a hand that rolled her over. There was a wetness—warm, sticky. It was dripping down her face and into her eyes. Her ribs screamed. Rey thought she might have landed on the scraps of metal packed tight in her bag. The grip on her bicep turned choking, and Rey tried to tug herself free but managed only to slump her body the other way.
A gloved hand pressed carelessly to her bloodied temple. She gasped at the pain, then again as something dull prodded the perimeters of her mind. It was gone as quickly as it had come. So was the hand. Above her, the blur of black stepped back.
“She’s seen the map.” The words were low and clipped beneath his mask. “Secure her on the ship and alert Master Ren.”