FN-2187 is a Stormtrooper, and Stormtroopers have many rules.

There are rules about weapons and fraternization and when to kill and when to maim, but there is one rule that has been ingrained in every Trooper since their first rotation as a cadet.

There are orders, and then there are Orders.

The first category consists of menial things, things that Troopers can ignore without fearing harsh rebukes and retribution. Like oh-three-hundred marches, which are run by very lenient Trooper officers who don't care if a few people skip. Like when a low-ranking non-Trooper officer tells a Trooper to go on bathroom duty for the rest of the week. Like when a cadet lies on the ground in the middle of a battle, pristine white helmet and torso smeared with crimson, and orders a Trooper to leave them behind. Those can all be ignored.

Orders, capital-O, consist of much higher-stakes things. For example, an order comes from a fellow cadet of similar rank and designation and is usually trivial. If Captain Phasma or General Hux or even Kylo Ren give an Order, it doesn't matter whether or not the Trooper in question is sleeping or in sickbay or on their way to reconditioning or on the other side of the base. The Trooper is required to drop everything and run to fulfill the Order given.

FN-2187 knows this well, and it is why all of his commanding officers have always marked him down as potential officer material, the closest thing to a compliment in the Trooper ranks. He follows Orders in battlepreps, in training sessions, during Morning Speeches and Afternoon Speeches and Night Speeches. He even gives Orders sometimes to Nines and Slip and Zeroes during particularly difficult battlepreps. He's twenty-three rotations and by now he knows orders and he knows Orders.

So when Captain Phasma holos him during sanitation duties and tells him to report to General Hux's office immediately, he knows it's an Order, gives his supplies to Nines and leaves.

General Hux's office is dark, much like its owner, but it's much bigger than the barracks, which he shares with the rest of his squad. He even has his own personal belongings—a desk, a comfortable looking chair, assorted folders, and a window with a view. FN-2187 feels envy well up inside of him, for the only personal belongings he'd had were when he was a cadet and they'd been taken away once he'd been assigned to real training.

Captain Phasma and General Hux are waiting for him there, and he salutes them, as he has been trained to do for as long as he can remember. "At ease," says Captain Phasma, and he stands at attention. "FN-2187, you may be wondering why we have called you here."

Yes, FN-2187 thinks. But will you tell me?

She does. "As you know, FN-2187, the Resistance has been an unfortunate thorn in the side of the First Order for years. Kylo Ren insists that we do something about it."

"Yes, Captain," he says, unsure of what else to say. That of course is because he has no idea what the helmet is going on. Why has he been called in here? What do they want him to do?

"Ren also claims that the Resistance has a map," General Hux says, speaking up for the first time. Ren, he calls him. It'd be an affectionate nickname if it weren't spoken with so much hatred. "A map that leads directly to Luke Skywalker."

It's all FN-2187 can do to remain composed. Luke Skywalker, the savior of the Resistance from thirty years ago. Luke Skywalker, the son of Darth Vader, whom Kylo Ren worships as though he were still living. Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi. Of course he's heard of Luke Skywalker, everyone has. There have always been serious doubts about his existence because no one's seen him in the last few decades or so, but a map that leads directly to him—no wonder Kylo Ren wants it. "Yes General."

"FN-2187, your instructors have always marked you as loyal, dutiful, brave, smart, strong," says Captain Phasma with just a hint of pride in her voice. He stands up straighter, relishing in the implied compliment. "You have always scored in the top one percent of your evaluations and battlepreps."

"Yes, Captain," he answers. It's true, he has. He doesn't see why that's such a big deal—Nines also makes it in the top one percent sometimes, and Zeroes is handy with a blaster and Slip…well, Slip slips up, it's what he does. But what makes him so special?

"Remove your helmet, FN-2187." General Hux's words nearly scare him out of his wits, but after a quick look from Phasma he knows it's an Order and he does as asked. The influx of oxygen makes him light-headed for a moment, and his eyes quickly adjust to the light—even dimmer than he'd thought. General Hux scrutinizes him like a predator analyzes its prey. FN-2187 does not sweat or tear his gaze away, something that makes him immensely proud of himself.

General Hux sniffs and backs away. To Captain Phasma, he says, "He will do."

Captain Phasma nods and comes closer to him. "FN-2187, you have been chosen to go on an undercover mission. You will infiltrate the Resistance, become one of them." She spits out them the way Troopers say moof-milker or Kylo Ren. "You will keep General Hux and myself posted on what is going on, tell us their secrets. And when you find the map to Skywalker, you will bring it to us. You will help the First Order take down the Resistance from the inside."

It's so overwhelming. FN-2187 fights not to let any emotion show on his face. He wishes he were still wearing his helmet but won't dare do so unless Captain Phasma or the General tell him to. "How will I get in touch with you, Captain?" he asks, because the enormity of everything else he wants to ask is threatening to tear him to shreds.

"You will be given a wristband," says Captain Phasma, "designed by our top techs. If you press a button, it will act as an earpiece. You will only use it in private locations where you know that no one from the Resistance is spying on you. We cannot have this mission jeopardized, FN-2187. You are our last shot."

This is crazy. Maybe Captain Phasma is crazy—what was it they used to chant in secret about the Captain in the Young Cadets before they went off on duty? Crazy as a lylek, nasty as a reek, put her in a pie dish, give her to the neek? It'd been discouraged as individualism, and UT-1200, the ringleader, had been decommissioned as a result. But no. She's serious. They're both serious.

"I'll do it, Captain," he says.

"Excellent," says Captain Phasma. No pride, nothing in her voice to give her away. She sounds as though she'd known he'd accept all along. "You will leave in eight hours. FN-2000, FN-2003 and FN-2199 will not know about this. In order to fulfill this deception, everyone here will think you defected. It will make your story more believable."

"Captain…" FN-2187 knows he shouldn't interrupt but there's a burning question inside of him. "Isn't General Organa a Jedi? Won't she be able to read my mind and know that I'm not a defector?"

Captain Phasma scoffs. "Honestly, FN-2187, I thought you were smarter than this. General Organa will know that you are a defecting Stormtrooper because that is what you are going to think whenever you are around her. Do not ever let your mind stray to your mission in her presence. She may not be a Jedi like her brother, but she is still strong with the Force and you cannot let her find out your true nature. Keep your mind on lockdown, FN-2187. Is that quite clear?"

"Yes, Captain."

General Hux clears his throat, reminding FN-2187 that he is still in the room. "There will be a TIE Fighter waiting for you in the main hangar in eight hours. You will leave with as much fuss as possible. Head toward the Ileenium System—that's where their base is. The communicator wristband will be in the navigation box." Then a pause. "You are dismissed, FN-2187."

FN-2187 salutes. "General," he says with a nod, and makes for the door.

"FN-2187." He stops. "Put your helmet back on."

He does as she says, and then he leaves.

Slip is all questions when FN-2187 returns to the barracks. All Troopers have eight hours a day to use as an allotted dormancy period, and FN-2187 and Slip and Nines and Zeroes use the same eight hours a day every day. Some units do the same; other units can't stand to be near each other and have different dormancy periods. "What'd Captain Phasma want?"

"Nothing," he says, sitting down on his cot and removing his helmet. Slip's helmet is on his lap, and he's polishing a few dirty spots off it with a rag. Zeroes' uniform lies on his cot, and he polishes each piece of it with the care of a mother, or so FN-2187 imagines. Nines is still wearing his. "Nines, thanks for taking my shift today."

Nines grunts. His helmet comes off with a pop-hiss, like someone's opening a bottle of beer. "No problem, Eight-Seven." His tone suggests that it is, in fact, a problem, and FN-2187's sorry he'd asked. To Zeroes and Slip, he says, "Gigi—GG-0899—was working near Kylo Ren's part of the base and she says that Fiver—you know, JR-5555—saw Kylo Ren take his shirt off before going in the shower."

"Yeah, that's usually how showers work, Nines," says Slip.

"Shut it, bucket-head. Anyway, I bet he looked even shrimpier than normal. He probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet in that little black getup."

"You interested in Kylo Ren shirtless, Nines?" asks Zeroes with a smirk.

He receives a punch to the shoulder that's not entirely playful. "No I'm not." That's true. After all, even if fraternization weren't forbidden, anyone who even looks the wrong way at Kylo Ren gets a swift decommission. "I just figured you'd want to know so you can share it around. May as well make Kylo Ren look more human than he is."

All Stormtroopers own are stories, and since stories are so valuable, this one will probably be spread all over the base by tomorrow. FN-2187 doesn't particularly care that he won't be here to see it.

"Eight-Seven?" FN-2187 turns to see Slip looking at him, practically vibrating on his cot. "I used the technique you helped me with in the last battleprep and this time I got nine out of fifteen bullseyes instead of four like last time."

Nine out of fifteen is far from perfect, but FN-2187's still proud of Slip's achievement. "Good for you," he says with a small smile in Slip's direction. "If this keeps up then you'll be a model Stormtrooper in no time."

Slip beams from FN-2187's compliment, but Zeroes scoffs. "Slip didn't slip up? It's practically a miracle. Alert the Captain, Nines. Let's all celebrate his mediocre score as opposed to his normal shitty one."

Nines sniggers, and when Slip's shoulders slump in defeat, FN-2187's anger flares up. They're a team, and bullying is not tolerated under FN-2187's watch. "Hey," he snaps. Their heads shoot up. "Zeroes, if I remember correctly, your average score is seven out of fifteen on the battlepreps, so I would shut up if I were you."

Zeroes angrily folds his arms over his chest, turning to Nines and speaking to him instead. Slip gives FN-2187 a quicksilver smile before moving to finish polishing his helmet. FN-2187 standing up for Slip has done him no favors with the rest of his Troopers, as he'd suspected anyway.

FN-2187 lies down on his cot, half in his armor and half not. This is to be his last night on Starkiller Base, he thinks. No more lumpy cots. No more bickering Troopers to share a room with. No more barely inedible food. No more oh-three-hundred marches. It'd never been much, but it had been home, and now he's losing it all to go on a mission for Captain Phasma and General Hux.

The lights switch off, but FN-2187 doesn't go to sleep for a long time.

FN-2187 wakes up with the grace of two spaceships crashing into each other, his heart pounding in his chest like he'd run a hundred miles with no water. He takes a quick look at the clock on the wall—it's been six and a half hours since he'd gone to sleep. He has very little time left to get up to the main hangar and find the TIE Fighter that General Hux had said would be there.

He dresses quickly and quietly, careful not to wake up anyone. The last thing he needs right now is for Slip or Zeroes or Nines to wake up and ask where he's going. Or worse yet, tail him. He goes to the door quietly, picking up his helmet from the dresser next to it, and takes one last look at his quarters. He'll never see Nines or Slip or Zeroes again. He'll never see this room again. It's a bittersweet feeling.

Before he can change his mind, he walks out the door, putting on his helmet as he does so to avoid suspicion. He's just a model Stormtrooper, not at all one on a dangerous undercover mission that might get him shot and court-martialed before he even gets to the Ileenium System. The few Stormtroopers out and about nod respectfully to him, but thankfully no one stops to make conversation. He makes it to the hangar, where about ten Troopers are on break and chatting with one another. A group of nonTrooper lieutenants pass him by.

"Stay calm, stay calm," FN-2187 mutters to himself. He can't afford to break down now, not when he's so close. Where is it? Where's the TIE Fighter General Hux had told him about? He looks frantically around and he calms down exponentially upon seeing a one-man Special Forces TIE Fighter, the kind only used by officers like Captain Phasma. Looking around to make sure no one's watching, he walks quickly and efficiently to the far wall where the TIE Fighter stands at the ready.

He climbs up into it and slides into the cockpit with a thump, bracing himself for everyone to start shooting, but no one on the outside notices. He takes note of the controls—relatively similar to those that he'd used during battlepreps and simulations, with the exception of these new blaster systems. He can only really shoot blasters, though.

FN-2187 sees a button that he doesn't recognize and decides to push it, wondering what it does.

The TIE Fighter lurches forward and rises crookedly in the air.

"Shit," FN-2187 says conversationally, even though his voice is shaking and his insides feel like they've been strapped to a booster rocket. He sees through the windshield that the Troopers have taken notice of him, and Force almighty, they're unpacking megablasters. Shit. He needs to get out of here now. He starts to push random buttons, jiggling the joysticks on the control panel, but nothing happens.

Wait. He looks down at the blaster system, and makes a spur of the moment decision. He uses the toggle on the left to switch from mag pulse to missiles, and uses the site on the right to aim at the battalion of Troopers quickly growing below. This has to work. "Please work," he says, and pulls the trigger.

With a noise that sounds like a firecracker, the missiles are launched from the blaster system, and FN-2187 lets out a whoop of appreciation as he tears up the parked TIE Fighters and gun emplacements with strategic laser blasts. With a grin slowly blooming—he's having the time of his life now—he shoots a large blast at the control room, impeding the technicians in there from firing after him.

"Okay, enemy taken care of," he says. "Now, I need to get out of here." He moves the joysticks forward, and the TIE Fighter flies off out of the hangar and into the stars with a speed so intense it nearly gives him whiplash. "Force, shit—okay, okay, Ileenium System, how do I get to the Ileenium System?" He knows that they're near several desert planets now, but the Ileenium System is pretty far away.

He notices a navigation box sitting on the seat next to him. With one hand on the controls, he reaches for it and grabs it. It's a four-fiver, one of the ones that he actually knows the authorization code to, and he could cry of relief. "Authorization code: 9304SKB," he practically yells at it, setting the box back on the seat next to him so he can steer further away from the ship.

A holographic map blossoms up from the box as he drives the ship further away. "Where may I direct you today?" it asks politely.

Thank the Force it's set to Basic. He doesn't think he could handle it if it'd been set to droid or something. "Ileenium System," he says, shouting so it can hear him. "Take me to the Ileenium System."

"Calculating route to the Ileenium System—" Its voice is cut off by FN-2187 cursing up a blue streak because damn it, now they're shooting after him too! Shit! He puts the TIE Fighter back into gear and turns it around, aiming its blasters back at the opening of the hangar, where guns and blasters are being fired at him like crazy. Damn it!

Cannons. He needs to take out the cannons. If this were a battleprep he'd have to take out the cannons first.

He arcs the TIE Fighter back and makes it dive through the opening between the levels of the massive ship, then flies down and back along the ship's belly where the cannons are warming up and will soon be ready to fire. His grip on the toggles is sweaty as he blasts salvos of lasers and, on his third attempt, hits a series of cannons, which explode in a series of sparks. "YES! YES!"

"Directing route to Ileenium System. Prepare for jump into hyperspace in ten seconds." The voice is calm and cool. FN-2187 pilots the TIE Fighter forward, wondering for a moment why he's so lucky today.

Ten seconds pass, and then the TIE Fighter disappears, leaving no proof that it had ever been there at all.

When he's in hyperspace, he puts the ship on autopilot and takes this time to remove his helmet, allowing him to breathe freely for the first time. He catches a glimpse of the clock on the navigation box and is stunned beyond belief to see that it's been only half an hour since he'd woken up. He wonders if Nines and Slip and Zeroes are up now, if they'd been the ones firing at him back at the hangar.

Suddenly he looks down at himself. If he's going to play the part of a defecting Stormtrooper, then he needs to get rid of his armor, doesn't he? He almost doesn't want to, as he's had this armor for such a long time that it's practically a part of him. He knows every nook, cranny and scratch of it better than he knows his own skin. Getting rid of it is…almost unimaginable.

The navigation box beeps to let him know that he's no longer in hyperspace. "Thanks," he says. Then he notices something new that had escaped his attention earlier: the wristband that Captain Phasma and General Hux had talked about earlier is taped to the back of the box. He rips it off in two short tugs and puts it on his left wrist. It fits him well, and their techs must really know what they're doing because he can't tell that it's secretly a communicator even though he knows that it is. A new thought comes to mind when he looks at the wristband. "Uh…navigation box? I don't suppose you know where the Resistance base is?"

"Calculating route to Resistance base—"

"No, no, that's okay, really," he says quickly, because he doesn't need the entire route to be reconfigured. "You don't have to—"

"Resistance Base, D'Qar," says the navigation box. "D'Qar is three planets away from the edge of the Ileenium System. En route to D'Qar now."

FN-2187's brows furrow in confusion. "How did you know where it is?"

"Information inputted by General Elan Bartram Hux," says the navigation box. FN-2187 holds back a snicker upon hearing the general's full name. Elan? Really? But in all seriousness, how had Hux known about the precise location of the Resistance base? Hadn't he just said that they thought it to be somewhere in the Ileenium System? What hadn't they told him?

The frantic beeping of his dashboard makes him frantic by default. "What the helmet?" is all he can say to himself. The TIE Fighter seems to be losing speed at a too-quick pace, and it's beginning to decline alarmingly fast. "Shit shit shit," he says under his breath. He pushes every button he can think of, including the auto-pilot controls, but nothing happens. The navigation box helpfully tells him that he's in the atmosphere of D'Qar, and he swears at it. "Shit!"

He is falling, falling, falling. His helmet bounces off the seat next to him and falls onto the floor with a thud, as does the navigation box. His heart leaps into his throat as the TIE Fighter descends so quickly that he thinks that the engines must be on fire or something. The TIE Fighter is so low that he can clearly see the grassy mounds and sunken structures on the ground.

"Brace for landing," says the navigation box helpfully.

FN-2187 grips the controls tightly, says a final prayer, and when the TIE Fighter crashes into the ground he goes unconscious instantly.