Chapter 1: A Fortuitous Encounter

"I'm half way gone

Sleepless, I'm battle worn

And you're all I want

So bring me the dawn."

-Need the Sun to Break, James Bay

23 ABY

When Han Solo first set foot on Jakku, it felt as though he had stepped back in time by over nineteen years. The tilted glare of two suns, the windswept dunes, and his already parching thirst brought back a memory steeped in nostalgia—Tatooine. He still remembered his first glimpse of Luke Skywalker, scruffy blond hair ruffled and wide blue eyes searching the cantina with hapless innocence. Indeed, it felt like another life now. Everything that had come after was like the rush of hyperspace, passing him by in a flurried stream. But the moment when his life had changed forever was cemented at the forefront of his mind, right beside his first glimpse of Leia and the shape of Ben's small, newborn fists. The moment he turned from being a smuggler into something more. A hero. A husband. A father.

Han gave his head a shake to dislodge the distracting thoughts. With every passing year his sentimentality grew. Soon I'll be capable of nothing but reliving the good old days over a bottle of Corellian whiskey with Chewie, he thought disparagingly, letting his gaze wander sideways to his ever-present companion.

As if sensing his thoughts, Chewie let out a muffled rumble. I know.

"Alright," Han said, rubbing his palms together. "Niima Outpost is just on the other side of these dunes. If our informant is to be trusted, the Falcon should be down there. Shouldn't be hard to find, but keep your head down until we have eyes on her. As much as it pains me to say it, I'm getting too old for blaster work. I would love to walk in and walk out without getting shot at."

Chewie grumbled softly in complaint. You're the one who always starts something.

"Save it," Han ordered with his usual brusqueness.

The two companions began the arduous hike away from their small, two-man cruiser. Loose sand shifted underfoot, hindering their ascent. Chewie made it to the ridgeline first and scanned the horizon, barking softly.

"Out in the open?" Han panted, using his hands as leverage against his knees to stagger the last few steps. "What idiot thought to leave the Falcon sitting out in the desert? Don't they know the kind of damage sandstorms can do to a ship? This place really is a backwater."

Chewie rumbled in agreement.

"Alright, change of plans," Han said, catching sight of the Falcon, resting, as Chewie had said, in the open desert on the outskirts of Niima. "Let's just take her. There's no one around and she's right there—ripe for the picking."

Chewie reached for his bowcaster, voicing his assent.

"No, no, not yet," Han said, holding out a hand. "Let's just walk up, nice and peaceful-like. But be on the lookout."

The duo slipped and clambered down the hillside towards the outpost, where the familiar hull of the Falcon was visible despite a few tarps strung over the cockpit windows and side turrets. Unlike Tatooine, Jakku was quiet. The outpost seemed nearly empty, with only a few straggling lifeforms making their way through the desolate streets. Roughly rigged tents and sun canopies made up the majority of the architecture, interspersed by a few squat adobe huts that seemed to draw the majority of the activity.

"Where is everybody?" Han asked, rubbing the back of his neck to remove the itchy grains of sand that had found their way into his collar.

Chewie let out a low, melancholy note. Scavenging.

Han glanced at his companion in surprise. "You've been here before?"

Chewie nodded, paw hovering near his bowcaster. Once.

"Well it gives me the creeps," Han decided. "Let's get the Falcon and get out of here."

The two moved briskly but confidently towards the ship, doing their best not to draw attention. As they neared the craft, Han raised a hand overhead to stroke along the Falcon's starboard flank. Sand rained down around him.

"Look at this mess," he said in disgust, gesturing expansively. "Clearly these junk scavengers don't know how to take care of a ship after they've stolen it."

The two boarded the Falcon through a rear port rather than risk drawing attention by opening the main shuttle doors. Chewie went first, clambering nimbly up the ladder and letting himself into the circular space that had been his home for so many years. Han followed, pausing momentarily to brush sand off his knees before surveying his surroundings.

"Well at least they haven't messed with the interior," he conceded finally, heading for the cockpit. "Let's see if they've left the controls undamaged. We can nip over to the cruiser once we get her in the air. Leia will be pissed if we leave it here."

Trusting Chewie to explore the rest of the ship for damage, Han slid into the comfortable pilot's chair. He let his hands run over the controls, which were worn smooth with age and use. His gaze drifted to the main ignition and he groaned. "Damn it, Chewie," he called over his shoulder. "They've got an ignition lock on her. We're going to need the decryption key."

Chewie let out an angry roar, which Han thought was a slight overreaction, given the circumstances. "What's going on back there?" he asked, sliding out of his seat and moving towards the rear of the ship. "Chewie, come on out, we need to figure out this ignition lock. Whoever left the Falcon here must have the decryption key."

One of the grates had been lifted from the floor, and Chewie's bowcaster lay beside the gap. Grumbling, Han lowered himself stiffly belowdecks in search of the Wookie. It didn't take him long to find his friend, who stood with his back to Han, gesticulating wildly and making sounds of discontent.

"What is it now?" Han asked irritably. "We can fix whatever it is later, right now we have to find that damn…" he trailed off as Chewie turned, revealing a glimpse of what lay before him, "…key."

When Rey first heard voices in the main cabin, she was certain that Plutt had finally found her bolt hole in the belly of the ship. Despite her master's warning to stay away from the old junk-heap of a cruiser, Rey had been oddly drawn to it. It felt home-like in a way, the kind of transport that she imagined her parents returning on.

Although it had been stripped of most identifying material when it had initially come into Plutt's possession, she had combed the ship for clues to its origins during her time living aboard it. The shelf near her cramped sleeping space was lined with small treasures she had discovered—a broken holo-projector; a cracked helmet with an orange face-screen; two dolls made of twisted bits of wire, spare parts, and cloth; and a watch that had stopped working.

She had chosen the spot because of the letters she found carved in childlike script into the wall near knee-level. When she curled up in her alcove, the three letters watched over her like three guardian stick-men. She had learned to read in the time before Plutt, from a woman with soft hands and smooth hair. She knew what the letters spelled—BEN—but she wasn't sure what they meant. A name perhaps? She had thought about carving her own letters under them, but she worried that whoever had carved the first letters might not appreciate it, if they ever came back for their ship. Instead she had leaned a bit of scrap metal against the wall and carved the days into it, a tally for each. She had marked only one hundred and eighty-four days, but already she felt more attached to this home than she had been to the discarded AT-AT that had served as her previous shelter.

Rey had also found a broken armband in the alcove—one woven of fine, supple strands of leather and decorated with dark beads. She had painstakingly repaired the damage using the spare bits available to her—mostly broken strands of wire that weren't valuable to Plutt, but were a virtual treasure-trove for her clever hands. She wore the bracelet around her left bicep now. It was clearly meant as a wristband, but with her skinny arms it would have fallen off immediately. Besides, wearing the bracelet on her upper arm meant that she could disguise it beneath her arm-wrappings and avoid thievery from Plutt or one of the other scavenger children.

As the voices above grew louder, Rey recognized that only one of them was human. The other spoke in rippling roars and grunts. The effect, she thought, should have been frightening, but instead made her feel the same way the ship made her feel—safe. It wasn't similar to any of the other languages she knew, and she wondered fleetingly whether she ought to learn it as she had learned all of the droid languages and local dialects on Jakku.

The human voice faded, leaving behind the shuffling tread of large feet. Rey dared peek out of her alcove for a moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder. If it was one of Plutt's men she would hide until he was gone, but the strange language made her feel that this intruder was not from Niima Outpost at all. Through the checkered grate of the ceiling she saw a flash of movement—large feet and shaggy…fur? Intrigued she peered out further, dislodging a hydrospanner from her scavenging satchel. The tool clanged against the floor grates and the alien above her froze, letting out a surprised grunt. Snatching up the hydrospanner, Rey recoiled into her hiding place and held her breath. Her palms were slippery with sweat and her heart thundered against her ribs.

The sound of metal sliding on metal announced the stranger's entrance to the lower decks. It hadn't even had to look around for the hatch, hinting at a thorough knowledge of the ship's layout. Could this alien have been the owner of the craft and the writer of her three stick-man letters? Rey sunk back even further, not willing to risk her safety on a hunch.

The alien let out soft crooning noises as it slowly circled the maintenance compartment. From where she crouched, Rey admired the thick fur that covered the majority of its body—it was tawny in some places, gold in others, but mainly a deep, rich brown. It looked tantalizingly soft. A flicker of its profile showed a short muzzle, dark eyes, and pointed white teeth that flashed in the dim light when it opened its mouth to speak again. She still wasn't sure what the creature was saying, but she was certain it was searching for the source of the noise. Closer and closer it came, until its back nearly pressed into Rey's shadowy alcove.

Suddenly a loud voice broke the silence. "Damn it, Chewie! They've got an ignition lock on it. We're going to need the decryption key!"

The alien spun abruptly at the sound of the voice, and its eyes alighted on Rey. Trembling in fear as she realized she was trapped, the small girl raised her hydrospanner defensively and let out what she hoped was a fierce growl.

The furry alien bellowed in surprise, staggering back a step. His great head—for she was now fairly certain that the creature was a male Wookie—swiveled from side to side sharply, as if searching for more small humans crouched in the corners. Finding none, he redirected his attention to Rey, taking a shuffling step forwards and inclining his head.

Terrified at the sight of his sharp canines, Rey took a swing with her hydrospanner, which the intruder barely avoided by springing backwards. He let out another distorted roar of discontent which, to Rey's amusement, sounded like a confused shout of what did you do that for?

"Stay back!" she warned, swiping the hydrospanner at him again. "Or I'll—I'll tell Plutt you're here to steal his ship!" She wasn't entirely sure how the words found their way to her mind, but the moment they left her mouth she knew they were true. These two intruders were the owners of the junk-heap, and they were here to take it back.

The Wookie let out another unhappy sound, waving his arms angrily as if to get a point across. Something along the lines of: his ship? This is my ship! Rey felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. As if catching onto her amusement, the ship's owner continued to complain, his vast paws cutting swathes through the air that would have taken the head off a fully-grown man.

"What is it now?" a voice suddenly demanded from directly behind the creature. "We can fix whatever it is later, right now we have to find that damn…key…"

The voice trailed off as the Wookie pivoted to the side, revealing a tall, handsome man in a leather jacket. A small blaster was holstered at his hip. Everything was silent for a moment as the man stared at Rey in shock. Then:

"Who the hell are you?" he burst out. "And what are you doing on my ship?"

The smile dropped from Rey's face instantly and she raised the hydrospanner defensively. "Your ship?" she challenged, despite her certainty that the man was being honest.

"Yes, my ship," the man responded irritably. "The Falcon has been mine for decades, until those rotten junk sellers stole it. Chewie and I are here to get it back." He gestured casually to the Wookie, who Rey now surmised was called Chewie.

Rey sized up the two intruders before her, thinking quickly. Her normally suspicious nature seemed to have fallen silent in their presence, replaced with a calm confidence that they could help her. "Well," she ventured, "right now it's in the possession of Unkar Plutt, a junk-dealer who doesn't put much stock in 'it was mine first.'"

The man's face darkened into a scowl. "Is that what you call yourself, then? Onkar Lutt?"

Rey tipped her head back and let out a high, clear laugh. "Me?" she demanded, still smiling. "No, silly. My name is Rey." She dropped the hydrospanner and stuck out her hand to shake.

The man looked at her in silence for a few moments, eyebrows raised. Then he enveloped her hand in his much larger palm, ignoring her grease-stained fingers, and smiled. "Pleasure to meet you, Rey. My name is Han, and this is Chewie. Now tell us what you're doing on our ship."

Rey tipped her chin down, nervously glancing at Han from under her eyelashes. She knew she was in the wrong, and even if these two meant her no harm, she couldn't be sure that they wouldn't tell Plutt how she had illegally camped out inside his junk-heap ship. "Umm…" she began. "Well I…I work for Plutt. I'm a scavenger."

Chewie let out a roar of dismay, taking a step back, but Han steadied him with a hand on his arm. "It's alright Chewie, she's just a kid," he admonished. "Let's hear her out."

Rey nodded gratefully. "I was sold to Unkar Plutt a three years ago," she explained. "It was a mistake—my parents are coming back for me. Until then I'm working for him as a scavenger to pay off my debt." She shrugged gracelessly. "I've been living on your ship for six months. Usually we'd scavenge an old wreck like this—" here Chewie growled warningly—"but Plutt thought that maybe he could get it flying again, if he had the right parts. After a few months he realized that he didn't have the materials or the manpower, so he sort of forgot about it."

Han grimaced. "It doesn't fly?"

Rey shook her head sadly. "I've been fixing it," she said. "Plutt's men are worse than useless when it comes to these sorts of things. But one of the heat coils is shot and the panel is encrypted so I can't open it up."

"Yeah, I encrypted it so that my son would stop taking it apart," the man said, his mind obviously elsewhere. "Is that all?"

Rey shrugged again. "There's an ignition lock so I can't exactly get it running to check. But I think yes."

Han eyed her thoughtfully. "Who taught you mechanics?" he asked.

Rey tilted her head to the side. "No one," she said quietly. "I like tinkering."

The man "hmmed" and glanced around awkwardly. "Well you've kept it clean, at least," he admitted. "Although the exterior looks like its been sandblasted once or twice."

Rey grinned. "Yes. There aren't many hangars at Niima Outpost."

"Disrespectful, is what it is," he grumbled. "The Falcon was stolen about ten months ago and completely disappeared off the map. It probably would have ended up gathering dust here for years if we hadn't received a tip on its whereabouts."

Rey watched him silently, not sure how she was expected to respond to this statement.

Han released a heavy sigh. "Alright, kid, I'll tell you what," he began. "Maybe we can help each other out. You help me get that ignition lock off and I'll see to it that you don't have to live in Force-forsaken wasteland anymore."

Rey lifted her chin proudly. "Like I said before, Mr. Han, sir, I'm waiting for my parents to come back and get me. I can't leave Jakku."

Han stared at her bleakly, his eyes revealing a deep sadness. People rarely looked at Rey that way—most of the other inhabitants of Niima Outpost either wanted to swindle you or use you, depending on their type. They hardly every felt sorry for you. Something about the man's sympathy raised Rey's hackles. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?" she demanded. "You think they're not coming back."

The man lifted both hands defensively. "No, kid. I didn't say anything. Look, stay here if you want, but I'm trying to liberate my ship. If you help, I'll give you whatever you want. Otherwise…I'm sorry, but you'll have to find a new place to stay."

Rey's eyes gleamed as she surveyed him. "Anything I want?"

Han had the wherewithal to look slightly suspicious. "Within reason, sure."

Rey straightened as much as she could within the confines of her alcove, her narrow shoulders thrown back. "There is one thing," she said slowly. "There's something. In your left pocket."

Han looked startled, and began reaching for the pocket in question. "No," Rey said. "Not yet. Don't show it to me until we get your ship back. Just promise." She bit her lip anxiously. She wasn't sure why she wanted the item so badly, or even how she knew it existed. All she knew was that something was drawing her to the man's pocket, and that suddenly, desperately, she needed to have whatever it contained.

"Sure," Han said slowly, his eyes showing deep suspicion, or at least confusion. "I promise. Now, tell me who this Tutt guy is. Where can I find him?"

Satisfied with the deal, Rey hopped down to the ship's floor, drawing herself up to her full height—barely level with Chewie's waist. "Unkar Plutt is very powerful in Niima," she began. "He's a junk dealer who owns many scavenger-slaves. His trade shop is the third building on the left when you walk into town. But you can't just wander up to him and demand your ship back—he'll either chase you off or try to overcharge you, if you let him think it's valuable to you."

The ship's owner stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, then, what do you suggest?"

Rey squinted thoughtfully. "You have to make him think the old rust bucket it worthless," she finally decided. Chewie rumbled. "If you convince him it will never fly again, he might let you buy it for spare parts, if you have money."

"I have plenty of credits," Han offered.

Rey shook her head instantly. "We pay in rations here," she corrected. "Foodstuffs. Nobody cares for republic credits."

"Just like Force-damned Tatooine," the man swore, while Chewie grunted in agreement. "Well then, that plan is out the window. Looks like we're going to have to steal her." Something about Han's expression seemed to indicate that he was more excited about this idea than he was about a simple exchange of currency.

Rey's pulse thrummed with excitement. "Plutt is a dirty thief himself," she admitted. "He pays his scavengers a pittance and he probably stole this ship to start with. It's only fair that you steal it back."

Han sent her a lopsided grin. "Where do you think he would keep the decryption key?"

"Same place he keeps all his keys," Rey shrugged. "In his workshop. I can get to them, but I would need a distraction."

Han's answer was interrupted by the clanging of metal.

"Ahh," Rey said. "That'll be the security droids."

"The-the what?" he exploded. "You-you filthy scavenger, you distracted us on purpose until back-up could arrive, didn't you?"

Rey rolled her eyes with all the sarcasm a girl her age could manage. "No," she said, drawing the word out as if it were obvious. "I like Plutt as much as the next scavenger, which is to say, not at all. The droids are practically useless—better that they come after us than Plutt himself. They're poorly constructed and can't make it to the lower levels, so they just scan for lifeforms."

"But the lower bay is cloaked against—"

"—infrared sensors," Rey finished. "I know. This is a smuggler ship, obviously. No better way to disguise precious cargo. Which means you two—" she pointed, "are smugglers. Plutt doesn't know, which is why he sends the droids to monitor the place every few days. It's what's allowed me to stay hidden here all this time. Hardly anyone ever comes in, except the droids, and they have no way of detecting me if I stay silent."

"Ahh," Han hummed, rubbing the back of his neck again. "I think I have an idea."

From his vantage point atop the Falcon, Han could just make out Chewie's shape as he shuffled towards the third adobe on the left side of Niima's main street. He glanced quickly to the side and caught sight of Rey, crouched behind a low watering trough in the village square, her beige tunic blending perfectly with the sand around her.

Her presence had been a surprise to the former smuggler, but not an entirely unpleasant one. Something about her wide-eyed eagerness and crafty grin reminded him of a younger, more innocent Ben. The Ben he had known before a shadow had taken up residence in his son's eyes and the weight of the world had seemed to bear down on his shoulders. He imagined that Rey's life as a scavenger had to have been a living hell, and couldn't help but wonder what kind of parents would abandon such a precocious child on a planet like Jakku.

Returning his gaze to Chewie, he saw that the Wookie had arrived at Plutt's workshop. One hairy paw pounded on the counter three times, and Han observed the shifting of a large form in the window. As Chewie engaged the junk trader in conversation—hindered somewhat by the language barrier between the two—Han palmed a small control pad in one hand. He waited until conversation escalated. As two raised voices echoed across the sand towards him, he pressed the center button of the keypad.

With a flash of sparks and a screech of grinding metal, one of the security droid reeled from under Falcon, gun arm swinging wildly and head dangling lopsidedly from its neck. It had been easy work for Han and Chewie to disarm and dismantle the two droids once Rey had assured them that doing so would not trigger an alarm to tip off Plutt. One droid had been deactivated and stowed in the hull of the Falcon, while Chewie had carefully implanted a small detonator in the circuit panel of the second. When the detonator was activated, a fuse was blown that rendered the droid's logic controls useless and fed it a constant danger signal. And viola—an out-of-control, trigger-happy pile of scrap metal.

Sure enough, Plutt barely had time to look up at the noise before the droid started firing off laser bolts at random as it staggered drunkenly towards the Outpost. With a roar of outrage the trader slammed open his door and came to investigate, palming the blaster at his hip. Now that he was in the open, Han could identify Rey's owner as a Crolute, and a large one at that.

In a series of well-rehearsed movements, Rey slipped from her shelter and sprinted across the courtyard towards Chewie, totally unbeknownst to her erstwhile master. Chewie smoothly slid an arm around Rey's waist and lifted her onto the counter before spinning around and using his bulk to shield her movements as she slid under the transaction window and crawled into Plutt's inner workshop.

Meanwhile, the junk trader was sheltering behind a pillar as the streets quickly emptied of civilians unwilling to face the rogue security droid. Han focused on Chewie's shape and silently begged Rey to hurry. This was the riskiest part of their plan—if Plutt returned to his workshop before she located the key, there would be trouble. But the young girl had assured her compatriots that Plutt would be more interested in rescuing his expensive droid than in securing the shop. After all, no one at Niima Outpost had the guts to steal from Unkar Plutt. Han could only hope that she had judged his character correctly.

The droid took another ungainly step and slipped in the sand, collapsing to its sides. Its legs churned wildly, trying to continue its march, and its gun fired into the sand, but the damage had been done. With surprising dexterity for one so large, Plutt pounced on the robot and plucked loose a panel at the base of its neck. With a few quick motions of his thick fingers, the droid's engine whirred to a stop, rendering it useless.

Stay there and try to figure out what's wrong with the damn thing, Han pleaded internally. Just give us thirty more seconds.

Unfortunately, luck was not on their side. Tipped off perhaps by the conspicuous absence of the second security droid, or by the coincidental appearance of a strange Wookie just moments previously, Plutt staggered to his feet, spinning wildly about and narrowing his gaze in on Chewie, whose careful position in front of the shop set the trader into action once more. With a shout he lumbered towards the adobe, waving his arms angrily.

Swearing, Han scrambled to the side of the Falcon and dropped to the ground, staggering to maintain his footing on the treacherous sand. Forsaking the cover of the ship, he jogged after Plutt, drawing his blaster.

"Hey, you half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder! That's right, you!" he shouted, wielding the blaster threateningly.

Plutt spun around, drawing his own weapon. "What do you want?" he thundered.

Han shrugged, a characteristic smirk overtaking his face. "Just wondering if you wanted to know who ruined your security droid."

Plutt roared in anger, firing off a shot. Han threw himself to the side, ducking and rolling, but there was little cover in the open space between the Falcon and the rest of the Outpost. As Plutt lined up to fire off a second shot, the sand near his feet exploded as Chewie opened fire. Practically spitting with rage, the junk trader ducked behind another pillar, assessing his situation and realizing that he had been tricked and surrounded. Reaching to his belt he pulled out a keypad and hurriedly punched in a code. Behind Chewie, a plexiglas screen began to roll down over the shop window.

The Wookie roared angrily and dropped his bowcaster, jamming both paws under the descending barrier and attempting to force it upwards.

Plutt, seemingly satisfied that his shop was secured, returned his attention to Han, who had slipped closer and found shelter in the shadow of an ill-constructed tent home. "I know you're out there, thief," Plutt rumbled. "Show yourself, and I'll make your death painless!"

Han rolled his eyes dramatically and chanced a glance around the corner of his flimsy shield. The plexiglas had lowered considerably, leaving a gap of only about six inches between it and the counter. Chewie was losing his battle. As Han watched, a small hand slipped through the gap and dropped a decryption key onto the counter before quickly retracting as the glass slammed down. Chewie bellowed in frustration. Without warning, laser fire whizzed past Han's face, causing him to recoil and drop to the ground as the next shot ripped through the tent and passed through the space where he had been standing moments before.

In a flash of clarity, he realized they could not leave Rey and make a run for the Falcon. If she were deemed complicit in their heist, he could not imagine the punishment she would suffer at the hands of Plutt. They had to distract the junk-trader while she slipped away, or else convince her to leave with them. Rolling to his feet, Han surveyed his options. He could hear Plutt approaching the opposite side of the smoking tent. While he would prefer not to shoot to kill, it was becoming a more and more appealing option as the seconds ticked past.

A Jedi seeks to preserve life, Leia's voice rang in his head.

I'm not a Jedi, Han had responded teasingly, tucking a loose strand of chocolate-colored hair behind the shell of her ear.

She had looked at him in that way that only she could manage, lips pursed, eyes cutting through his defenses and sizing him up frankly. It was a look that simultaneously terrified and excited him. Over the past two decades he had made it his goal to elicit that look from her as often as possible. That doesn't give you an excuse to kill without conscience, she had quipped, and the conversation had ended there because really, how could he argue with his beautiful, stubborn wife when they both knew she was right?

Growling in frustration, Han banished the memory and spun around the other side of the tent, hoping to evade Plutt entirely and reach Chewie, who was currently hammering at the locked door with the butt of his bowcaster.

Unfortunately, his move did not go to plan as more laser fire whizzed past his left ear, causing him to throw himself to the ground in the shelter of an overturned cart. Panting for breath, Han scanned his surroundings again. The wind was picking up now, whistling between the tents and driving sand into his eyes. Grinning, he took stock of Plutt's moving form and aimed his blaster.

The shot rang out, slicing neatly through one of the cords staking down a tent upwind of Plutt. Another shot, and the second cord split. The growing storm caught hold of the structure and tossed it, tumbling end over end, into the junk-trader.

Not waiting to assess his work, Han scrambled to his feet and sprinted to Chewie, who was still battering uselessly at the sturdy steel framework of the door. He let out a frustrated roar as Han approached. It's locked from both sides.

"Shit," Han swore, adding in a few more colorful insults of his own devising. "Stand back, maybe we can shoot the catch."

Chewie shook his head helplessly, indicating the scorch marks resulting from his own attempts to do just that.

"Come on, come on, think," Han snarled, pacing in front of the door. "What do we do?"

Without warning, the door clicked open and Rey stepped out, looking flushed but unharmed.

Completely bewildered, Han and Chewie both took a moment to stare at her. "What—"

"YOU! You filthy sandrat!" Plutt screamed.

Three heads jerked up to catch sight of the hulking Crolute staggering towards them. His head covering had been knocked to the side, and he was still shredding bits of tentcloth from his arms.

"I'll kill you!" he shouted, raising his blaster and firing wildly.

Rey sprang to the side and the blaster fire left a glowing circle in the wall, directly where her head had been moments before.

Han's brow darkened with anger as he raised his blaster. Force-damn it all, he raged internally. This monster thinks he can open fire on a child? Leia wouldn't begrudge me this. His shot struck Plutt in the shoulder, an intentional adjustment to avoid taking his enemy's life. Nonetheless, the wound was a painful one, and the junk-trader sagged to the side, roaring in pain.

"Get to the Falcon!" Han shouted, just as the buzz of hovercraft reached his ears. "Chewie, take her with you!"

The Wookie obediently scooped Rey up with one arm and bolted flat-out towards the waiting ship, decryption key clutched in his other paw. Han spun around to face the approaching craft, which appeared to belong to some sort of backwoods peace-keeping force. As the craft stopped outside Plutt's shop, Han spun on his heel and sprinted after his companions, hoping to avoid another confrontation.

He was nearing the ship as a voice rang out. "Hey, you there! Stop!"

Blaster fire buzzed past his heels as he scrambled up the ladder into the open rear hatch and slammed the door shut behind him. "We've got company!" he bellowed. "Chewie, get her up and running!"

The Wookie glanced up from where he was keying in the code to the access panel. Rey crouched beside him, juggling a spare heat coil from palm to palm.

Clever girl, Han thought, hurrying to the pilot's chair. No wonder it took her so long to get out—she was looking for the decryption key and the heat coil.

Chewie tossed him the decryption key and he set about unlocking the ignition as the ping of laser fire alerted them to the arrival of the vigilante peace-keepers outside. "Disembark immediately!" a voice demanded.

"How's it coming Chewie?" Han shouted, flicking switches as he began to fire up the long-unused sublight engines.

Chewie let out a bark that meant something like shut up, we're doing our best.

Han glanced back to see two sets of hands rapidly plucking at wires and adjusting the new heat coil. The old device already lay discarded on the floor. Impressive, once again, Han thought. That girl can't be older than eight but she acts at least twice her age.

More laser fire raked the underbelly of the ship.

"Chewie!" Han shouted.

Another roar. Hit it!

Han slammed the throttle forward and the Falcon lurched once, listing dangerously to the side before skimming over the ground and gaining altitude. The tarps were ripped away in a cloud of sand, revealing the long stretch of desert beyond Niima Outpost. Laser fire faded in the distance as the short-range weapons of their assailants fell out of range.

The Falcon circled the Outpost once and lifted away. Chewie's paw descended on Han's shoulder and he let out a string of garbled sounds. What about the cruiser we used to get here?

"Forget it," Han said. "Leia can nag all she wants—I want off of this bloody sand pit."

A/N: Hello, friends. A couple of thoughts. First off, this is the very first fanfic I've ever written. So...feel free to tell me what I'm doing wrong. Like seriously. I'm not that easily offended so if you think it's terrible, let me have it. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, however. I'm always looking to improve my writing and I haven't flexed my creative writing muscles in a while, so odds are that parts of this are...not great. Whoops.

Second, although I consider myself a big SW fan (grew up on the movies) I have not read a lot of the background material/novels that I are generally accepted as canon-I'm also not completely certain on which *are* canon and which *aren't.* So I want to beg your forgiveness if I have already slaughtered some plot point/overlooked some details that I didn't glean from watching the movies. SORRY. I'll do my best, but if there are things I am missing or things I should be aware of, PLEASE TELL ME. It would honestly be such a huge favor as I don't have time to read everything ever written on SW (I suppose I may at some point but right now I'm more interested in writing this story, whoops). If something is irritating you and you tell me, I can literally fix it...and I will, unless it destroys everything (in which case I might have to add it to the AU-ness of this already AU story). Basically: guidance from all you super-SW fans out there would be *LIT.*

I have more to say but this note is already lengthy so I will save it until next time. Feel free to hit me up with any burning questions.

-A