Playlist:

❶ "The Master Switch"—Rogue One OST

❶ After the cruiser exited hyperspace, the drop ships began their descent into the atmosphere of Jakku. Namir's spearhead team dropped last of all in the dead center of the phalanx. After they had entered the atmosphere and dropped twenty thousand meters, surface-to-air missiles took out the portside engine and plunged them toward the dunes of Jakku.

Naluma clutched the restraint webbing as the craft plummeted. Some soldiers lolled in their seats, concussed from the hit.

Seated near the cockpit, Namir unbuckled his harness. The centrifugal force pinned him to the cabin bulkhead. He inched over to the jump door, slid his hand to the lever, and opened the hatch.

The heat of the atmosphere rushed into the ship. The wind tugged at Fau's braid of hair and sucked out anything not bolted to the deck.

Namir yelled over the wind, "Out! Out! Out!" He windmilled his arm toward the door. "Stat in your harnesses. Watch the spin of the ship. Unload down the line." He pointed to the grunt nearest him.

One of the freshest of the men unbuckled a moment too early and was thrown against the wall next to the captain, his nose crunching in a sickly squish.

The ship's rotation reached the apex of the safe zone to make an exit. Namir yanked the soldier off the wall and tossed him out. "One more, then wait for my mark."

The next soldier unstrapped and made it out just before the force of the spin worked against the exit.

Over the next twenty seconds, time seemed to slow.

Two more soldiers jumped without incident, but the next batch wasn't as lucky. The pair unbuckled from their harnesses as the same time and clogged the exit. Neither escaped, and the force of the rotation flung them to the back of the ship.

They slammed into each other, caught in the tidal force. The ship made another rotation and this time they were both sucked out, not before slamming the wall and having limbs tweaked at awkward angles.

"Your next, Fau."

Naluma ignored him, gathering in the Force. They needed the ship, the supplies, and the speeder it carried. She hooked a safety tether from her combat harness onto a support pole and then unbuckled her restraint webbing.

Namir yelled at her, "Jedi, I gave you a command to abandon ship."

Through clenched teeth she said, "I am not under your command, Captain. I can bring this ship down in one piece."

"Suit yourself." Out of patience, he jumped from the craft.

As soon as they were gone, Naluma inhaled a cleansing breath, forgetting the spinning of the ship, forgetting the worries of crashing into the desert floor, forgetting her impending death. It was only she, the ship, and the Force now. She remembered Luke's instruction about levitation, "Size matters not."

Naluma received a surge of energy through their Force-bond.

You can do this, he said in her head.

Naluma smiled, focusing that additional power to her task. She concentrated again, bringing the ship under control. Then she felt it—the spin was slowing. By small increments at first, until all at once the spin stopped. The ship straightened, but the fuselage groaned from the external damage. Smoke fogged the cabin.

Now, she had to raise the nose to salvage the ship. It inclined one degree, then two, then five before it glided across the surface. The sand dunes zoomed past the canopy, undulating like an S-wave on a scanner.

She needed to land before the next dunes passed, or she would be too close to the Imperial base. She pushed back on the bow of the ship and lowered it with a powerful surge into the sand. The shuttle shuttered, and Naluma flew toward the cockpit.

She met the bulkhead feet first, spread out horizontally. Naluma squatted, riding on the wall as the ship absorbed the crash. It ground to a halt. She pushed off and tucked into a roll, whiplashing toward the back of the craft.

The bench of jumpseats stopped her, pounding her arm and shoulder from the force. That's going to leave a bruise.

Sand billowed outside—quenching the smoke and fires—but the craft flooded with the fine grains and dust, dropping visibility to less than a meter.

Naluma launched herself out the open door, stumbling through the sand to the nose of the ship. Shouldering her rifle, she swept the rims of the nearby sand dunes with the optical sight of her weapon, watchful for any enemy troops.

Namir bent his knees and rolled on impact. After he released his chute, he squatted and looked behind him as the company landed. He could tell that some of the fresh meat had landed wrong—either dead or wounded. For others, their chutes had not opened, killing them.

He watched as two men came in, clutching each other on one chute. The moments were tense as they plunged to the ground, taking the brutal force on their knees and rolling in one motion together. They both survived, but the company lost an eighth of their troops during the landing. 

The captain turned his attention to the next part of the mission. There would be time to count casualties later.

Gadren yelled while pointing to the drop ship as it plunged through the atmosphere. It dropped like a brick, but at least it flew belly-down now. The entire company viewed its descent with open mouths.

Namir said, "Company, advance march. Protect that drop ship. Salvage the heavy equipment and supplies."

The heat and the sand affected their movements, cutting down the troops' travel speed to less than a third. Soon, they all felt the concussion of the drop ship crashing into the planet. Sand dunes shuddered, sending grains of sand everywhere—into eyes, ears, noses, and uniforms. The injured soldiers struggled even more on the unstable surface.

At the LZ, Naluma counted enemy signatures—a squad of two dozen stormtroopers approached from the north. She scrambled up to the top of the dune and picked them off, alternating between her rifle and grenades. Every so often, she would use the Force to zoom to another location, deluding the stormtroopers into thinking that she comprised a complete company.

Two dozen more stormtroopers augmented the original squad within minutes. As Naluma aimed the next shot, she felt multiple forces approaching from behind her. Relief washed over her when she identified Namir in the group. Within seconds she could hear him barking orders.

"Speeder pilots didn't survive the drop. Get that speeder out, now."

The drop ship captain said, "Never flown one before, Captain."

"First time for everything. Consider it on-the-job training." Namir said to Gadren and Brand, "Take your squads and support to the Jedi. Don't know how she's held out so far."

Namir looked around him. "Hober, take two squads and salvage what you can. Then camouflage the drop ship. Van Geis, this is the best place for a field hospital. Take your medics and start moving the wounded inside."

"It'll be an oven in there," Van Geis said while wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow.

"That's all I've got for you. Do what you can to get a breeze in there," Namir said as he turned to climb the dune ridge, sweat soaking his uniform and dripping from his head. Skin crusted with the blasted sand made every step uncomfortable. 

Captain Namir approached Naluma as she shot her rifle in rapid succession. He spoke, "You're pretty useful with that rifle. Where'd you get your training?"

"Thila—Pulsar."

"Sorry, I didn't know."

"You didn't ask."

Namir nodded. "But I could have killed you just now. Always watch your back."

"Captain, I knew it was you before you left the drop ship. And I could hear you barking orders a click away." As she turned back to her rifle, she said, "Now, if you don't mind, this does take some concentration." She punctuated her statement by shooting three more stormtroopers.

The wave of soldiers ended within fifteen minutes, followed by an earthquake. The sand dune displaced, bulldozing the company to the base of the hill.

Namir toiled up the hill once more and gazed at the advancing AT-AT walkers through his macrobinoculars. Over twenty headed  toward their company.

Naluma used the Force to propel herself to the top of the dune and scanned the combat zone with her rifle scope. "Doesn't look like those are regular pilots driving those walkers. Look how awkwardly they're moving."

Namir raised his macrobinoculars again. "I think you're right, but whether that makes any difference in this battle or not is yet to be seen."

Did you know . . .

● Writing a Star Wars novel that has the feel of the movies needs three elements: ground war, space battle, and romance.  

● Action scenes take the longest to write for me. I prefer emotional scenes (the romantic in me). I prefer dialogue. Action scenes require a lot of research, as well as much editing to keep the narrative tight and the pacing fast.

Tell me what you think . . .

● What other ways could the Jedi have used their special powers to help in this battle?