"That's annoying." Mara let the wires drop, walking through the doors and into the building. The quick shield from the direct sunlight was an immediate relief. Now in the darker corridor, red warning lights illuminated the space and led towards what she assumed was the control room. The other two followed, BB-8 speeding in front of her.

"Well, it's nice to have shelter and all," Poe looked above him, eyes scanning the adjoining halls, "but I really hope I didn't blast up the air conditioner earlier."

"It is pretty stuffy in here." The blonde absentmindedly agreed, her head clouded by the noise, which kept blaring continually.

BB-8 had gone on ahead towards the main control console. They followed, going into a large room. A huge window should've been in front of the long console.

There should've been a massive window above the long slate of buttons and controls that allowed you to see into the basin and landing platform, but a piece of the wreckage obstructed most of the view. This made it so you could only see through the lower left hand corner.

The other side of the large room, which also should've been filled with control panels, had caved in and sectioned off a large portion of the area, which barred them from several other halls and accessing any other part of the building. Sparks still flew from random areas and small lights tried to flicker on, but it was mostly a mess of bent metal and hanging wires. It was a miracle that the section they were in was still standing.

Dameron immediately set down his rifle on the large console to focus on finding whether or not it still worked, quickly turning the alarm off. Mara glanced up at the tall ceiling, feeling a little anxious and questioning it's structural integrity. BB-8 said something about finding if there was anything they could salvage that'd be useful.

"I think we have power." Poe muttered, flipping a few switches near one of the comms as Mara looked over the console. The majority of it seemed functional, considering most of the damage was done to the other side of the base. She leaned over, experienced enough with most of the control panels the First Order used, but yet again, this was Imperial era tech.

Still, she imagined the same fundamental rules applied. The blonde quizzically examined it all, noticing similarities, "Is there a special channel the Resistance uses? Don't want to take the chance that Order might pick up a general distress signal."

"True, but I don't know if this'll have much range," He pointed to a few of the blinking lights that indicated how far the message could travel, showing that it wasn't nearly up to its farthest range, "Pretty sure I busted up most of the communication system. I can still use the secure channel, but it won't reach all the way to the base. Now we just hope someone out there is listening."

"Better than nothing." Mara tried to suppress the small hope that showed itself, considering this might fail terribly. She still had to plan for the worst, which would be staying on this planet even longer, "As far as I know, we haven't cracked your guys' codes yet or anything along those lines."

Poe laughed a painful, forced chuckle at the very thought of it, so tired of this planet and the very thought of this idea failing so terribly, "Well, I really hope that's not the case."

Mara watched over his shoulder, making sure he was programming everything right. She bit down in her lip when he flipped the wrong switch, quickly correcting him, "Other one."

Dameron fixed his hasty mistake, then went back to setting the right frequency. After a few seconds of this, the blonde did want she did best in the quiet; filled it with words.

"So do you guys have some super-secret line you say to signal to each other or something? I suspected you guys did. Never could figure it out."

Poe kept focus on what he was doing, but absentmindedly answered, "As a matter of fact, we do. Hopefully, it'll work."

BB-8 rolled back into the room, reporting there in fact was no rations or water to be found. Apparently, there were a few halls that weren't completely demolished that led to a few storage closets and abandoned offices, but the barracks and main council rooms had all been demolished by the attack. This meant the mess hall was gone, meaning no hope of getting any more food. All they were left with was the lizard and the possibility that the monster they killed a half-mile back was edible.

"Wonderful." She lamented, forcing a large breath of air out of her lungs in anxiety. The little water they had was all they were going to get and all food would run out soon. Dameron's idea was the only chance that seemed doable, and even that had a slim chance.

After few more minutes of calibrating and getting the system ready, Poe stepped back from his work, eyes sweeping it to make sure everything was in the right place, "Time to give it a go."

Mara slumped against the console, swallowing her dry throat as she waited for the pilot to do something. Dameron leaned down to the microphone, and BB-8 to stopped and awaited the next words that his master spoke that might have a chance at saving them.

"It sure is a rainy day on Alderaan."

There was a pause, Poe making sure the transmission would keep repeating on the channel until someone picked it up. He turned, an expectant smile gracing his face. He was met by a cross Mara, who was a little stunned by it all, "What?"

The blonde shrugged her shoulders, "That's it? That's the code!"

".....Yeah."

"That's the phrase the First Order had been tirelessly trying to figure out along with the proper channel? That's the thing?" She said in disbelief, thinking of all time she and her brother had spent in the war room trying to devise a way to find out how the Resistance was giving orders across space, "It's so simple!"

"Numbers and fancy words are harder to remember. Basic phrases that no one would use today slip past algorithms, so yeah, that's it." Dameron explained, shrugging off the conversation as Mara realized what a waste those many hours had amounted to, not that the information would help her now.

She sat down on the warm floor, realizing her utter stupidity of earlier and realizing they may have to wait a while before anyone picked up the signal. That meant more tireless time on this hot planet, but at least they were sheltered now.

BB-8 rolled up to her, making a comment about the wait as well. The blonde did smile at this, an idea coming to her head, "At least you don't get hot or feel pain. Still, you've run yourself down pretty good. Why don't you power down for awhile?"

The astromech agreed with this, but still asked one favor, Wake me up when someone finds us?

Mara nodded, still somewhat amazed by the droid's extremely cute and quirky programming, "First thing I'll do when we receive a transmission."

So BB-8 settled in for a nap of his own as his lights went dim and he went on low power mode. Mara watched as the little astromech 'slept', realizing how much she actually interacted with him. Who was she going to complain to now, except the guy on the other side of the room?

So she took the time to actually sit, getting out water and taking a few drinks. Within that time, her mind actually wandered to the possibility of the Resistance coming for them. They'd imprison her, definitely. What would they do, torture her? Would they ever let her go? What would they do to her when she'd told them everything about the First Order that she could?

Sure, Mara would do anything to get off Ratakka. Yet, what life was ahead of her when she did? If she escaped the Resistance eventually, she'd still wouldn't be able to use her original name in fear of her brother finding her. If she ended up staying with the Resistance, would she ever get out of a cell? How did the Resistance treat prisoners? How long did they keep them?

She was responsible for more than a few of their pilots' deaths. Poe already knew her name and her crimes, how would the rest of their rebellion take her? Mara was pretty sure that Dameron's friends wouldn't be as 'accepting' as he had been, and that was after they both attempted to kill each other and she saved his life. And still, she was pretty sure he didn't trust her completely, not that anyone in their sane mind would in this situation.

This is why she talked a lot. If she didn't, her usually pessimistic outlook on life would get the best of her.

Mara reattached the water sack to her belt, pushing her mind away from all those odd thoughts and remembering that there was still little to no hope the signal would be picked up. So she stood up, stretching and turning back to the blocked window. Her eyes swept over the controls again, making sure everything was in order before walking back towards one of the corridors.

Mara followed the hall BB-8 had searched, finding nothing but what he had told her. It was a regular hall, though darker and fashioned in the Imperial era, also quite run down. She passed through pried open doors, walking into the next section of the hall. One way was blocked off by a collapsed ceiling, and straight ahead the same. She took a right, going down another and the only available corridor in hopes of finding something. Alas she did, and Mara found the barracks.

Unsurprisingly, half of the room had collapsed, taking most of the terribly uncomfortable bunk-beds with it. Half the storage lockers looked pretty mangled as well, but the ones that were still intact were a beacon of hope for the blonde. She often wished for new, less torn clothes the past few days, and the sight of the lockers was a small happiness she cherished. An emergency medical kit was mounted on the wall beside the compartments and she quickly ransacked the pouch for new bandages.

So Mara got to work, trying to open one. When she realized it was locked, a quick shot from her pistol was enough to do the trick of demolishing the locking mechanism. The metal squeaked open to revel completely new uniforms and First Order issue blasters. A victorious smirk came to her face, picking up one of the new guns, "Well, well, aren't you pretty."

She pulled out the long black shirt to be worn under the armor, throwing that off to the side as she reached for a sown sack hanging from a hook. Her hand dug into it, fingers gracing a metal, round object. Mara's short-lived joy kept stride a moment longer when she pulled out a grenade. If all went to hell, several of those would come in handy.

She changed quickly, still keeping Dameron's pistol and just adding the extra gun and holster to her belt. One thing that she didn't find was a hair tie, considering the one she used to hold her hair in under her helmet snapped a few days prior. She couldn't see how her blonde waves looked, considering the First Order never put mirrors anywhere. Mara now realized the reason why.

Mirrors would emphasize each soldier's differences and familiarize them with their own unique faces. The Order always wanted them in their identical white uniforms, seizing away any original identity one might have and drilling into everyone's heads that they should just serve. Possessing a mirror that allowed one to look at characteristics only they had made them each unique, much like giving them distinct names would. They were only supposed to be an army, fighting for the First Order's cause.

She had seen the members of her squadron's faces in fleeting, rushed moments fitted between their rotations. Axis looked younger than the gravel of his voice suggested. Speeder had a scar that jutted across his right eyebrow from some botched training exercise a decade ago. Thirds had to trim his thick, curly hair more often than the rest of the company because it'd grow wild after a few weeks. The brightest green eyes the woman had ever seen belonged to her wingmate, Zipper.

Did her men die not knowing their own faces?

Mara couldn't lie to herself. Of course, they didn't. She'd truly been on the side of horrendous evil, one that stripped young children of individual thought and made them nameless killers. She had known that, hated the notion, but the thought of being rejected from yet another thing in her life had scared her beyond thinking straight. She had finally had it all going for her; a place where her intelligence in aerial warfare was valued, she was able to lead effectively and given the chance to fly again. And all while her family accepted her?

It was too good to be true because those types of fantasies don't exist. Beneath it all, she willingly aided a death cult and in the end, she lost it all. It took seeing all of her pilots die and her brother turn on her for Mara to wake up to the nightmare she wished into becoming a dream.

She shut the locker, swallowing thickly at the memory of her four pilots dying on her account. The blonde just tried to comb her tangled hair with her hands, not bothering with the hair tie anymore. She wandered back through the halls to the main console room where Poe was slumped against a wall, and BB-8 still stayed silent in low power mode.

The Resistance pilot sat with his back against the console and cocked his head in her direction at seeing her new attire and weapon, "Found the barracks?"

Mara gestured behind her towards the corridor, "One left and two rights and it'll be there. Fair amount of guns and grenades for if things go bad, but good luck finding a mirror in there."

The last statement came off as a lazy attempt at sarcasm. As Mara tossed him some bandages, the persistent hole in her stomach that had grown in her stomach the last few days seemed to widen. It was finally settling in how terrible the Order truly was. She took a deep breath, realizing her selfishness.

She helped that monster of a thing.

She helped it because she wanted a place to call home. Of course, she had to pick the fascist death cult. She let herself be brainwashed by it, let the atrocities they did slip by so she could feel like she meant something.

"A mirror would be pretty useful right about now." Dameron commented, his hand reaching up to try and find the dirt-smeared gash on his temple. He winced when he put pressure on the wound and drew a sharp breath at the flood of pain incited by the touch. When the man haphazardly attempted to stick a band-aid on his forehead, Mara was pulled out of her own misery to roll her eyes.

He had tied the wrappings on her bad leg, she could put aside some guilt and focus on something that didn't make her want to vomit. She strode over to the place on the floor where Dameron sat and crouched down to his height. She surveyed scrape, stained by sand and dried blood and took the ready opportunity to mock him, "Poster boy for the resistance can't even take care of himself."

He lowered the mangled bandage and scowled back at her, "Well, when I can't even see my own face...."

With a defeated scoff, he extended out the dressings. Mara grabbed them and took a closer look, brushing his dark hair out of the gory mess, "Hold still."

Poe slowed all movement. As a substitute for actually cleaning the gash out, the blonde rolled the sleeve of her shirt over her palm and used the cloth to gently scrub away the dirt. Dameron's mouth contorted into a silent grimace as he recoiled away, to which Mara breathed out a quiet, "Sorry."

She slowly wiped away the grim from the edges of the cut with care not to irritate the area anymore. Poe remained wordless despite the pain, intently looking up at the woman's concentrated expression.

Her eyes never left the injury once she removed the makeshift rag, pushed her sleeve back, and picked up the dressing, "We're just gonna hope this doesn't get infected."

Mara lightly pressed the band-aid to the wound and slid her thumb over it to flatten out the creases. Instead of a flinch, Dameron's low chuckle fanned across her face, "Keep this up, Blondie, and I'm gonna start thinking you care about what happens to me."

His teasing remark caused her to break focus, glancing down to meet his gaze with a snide smirk, "Would calling you an asshole again change your mind?"

Poe's parted lips tugged to a small, drowsy grin, "Yeah, maybe."

She let her fingers graze down the side of his face as an indication to tilt his head up to see the scrape under his chin. That was the baton-inflicted mark that had needlessly bled all over their campsite. Now it was scabbing over just fine.

The lapse of silence that had followed the exchange didn't help the gnawing tearing through her stomach. When she peered back up, Dameron still held a steady gaze that had yet to move from the person he considered an enemy merely days ago. A fleeting moment passed where Mara didn't think about how close in proximity they were. She didn't think about how he didn't take another breath until after her hand left the side of his jaw. Or how he wouldn't look away. She didn't even think about how much she didn't mind either of those things.

"That one's not too bad." Mara stated, sitting back on her bent leg as Poe cleared his throat. He went to touch the cut himself and came to the same conclusion.

"I'll live. Thanks."

And she especially didn't notice how nice of a smile he had.

The blonde curtly nodded before standing back up with a little wobble, curtesy of her numb calf. When she crossed the room to slump against a sturdier wall, she decided she'd just been on this damn planet way too long. So she re-did the wrappings around her leg and let a weary body lull her to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

She napped without interruption until she awoke serval hours before the sunset. After pulling out her batons and decided to polish the green goopy blood off them, she and Dameron struck up another bored conversation from a distance.

"I'd bet good money you're from the Hosnian system, right?" Mara asked, her turn. This was perhaps the ninth or tenth standard question they'd asked each other, both painfully unoccupied. The transmission was still repeating, but no one had picked it up yet.

"You're losing all your credits. Yavin IV." He answered, eyes on the ceiling as he rested near the console.

"Damn. Jungle planet?"

"Yep."

"You must hate it here."

"I'd kill to see a bit of green right now." His knuckles drummed against the floor, the sound echoing throughout the space, "Okay, wild guess, but you gotta be a space baby."

Mara shrugged, her scrubbing becoming more aggressive in hopes of getting an ugly stain off the metal, "What makes you say that?"

"Just a hunch." Whatever loose wire hanging down from the mangled ceiling he'd stared at the last two minutes lost his interest. Poe tipped his head towards her, "Kids born off-world always have a chip on their shoulder."

"I'm offended."

He took the woman's feigned irritation as confirmation, "Because I'm right?"

"Born on some star destroyer on the edge of the Unknown Regions." The last streak of congealed blood was almost completely wiped away when Mara glanced up, "But if I'm from anywhere, it's Mandalore. You go."

"X-Wing or Tie fighter?"

Her brows furrowed, "Does the Tie Silencer and the T-70 X-Wing count?"

"Regular Tie versus T-70."

She would've laughed if the action didn't irritate her dry throat, "Um, the X-Wing. But, if it were a Tie Silencer, then that would've won out."

Poe looked down at her, just a little pissed she chose something he saw as inferior over one of his favorite ships, "Really? The X wings are much more durable, great for maneuvering, easy to repair."

"Ah," Mara countered, bringing up her index finger to prove her point, "You're forgetting the Tie's speed, plus they could out-corner an X-wing any day."

"An X-Wing can actually take a hit."

"True." She complied, but followed with another question, "But have you ever flown a Tie?"

"No-"

"Ha!" Mara pointed one of her batons at him in victory, "You can't make any decisions based on the fact you've only flown one of the two starfighters!"

Dameron countered easily, believing he could once again get the upper hand, "And you're telling me you've flown a T-70 X-Wing?"

Mara proudly crossed her arms, mirroring a young kid who had a secret, "Yes."

"How? You've been an Imperial officer for what, two years? They were brand new then."

"Roughly a year and a half."

Poe then cocked his head to the side, slightly shaking it, "So you stole one."

"One of your pilots had a layover Takodana, and it was just too pretty. Took it for a joy ride," The blonde went back to polishing her weapons, "Ended up in jail. That's where the Order found me."

"You weren't kidding when you said you were a delinquent."

"I consider myself more of an occasional high stakes thief."

"So what's a name for that....." Dameron stalled his words, mostly for effect, "Criminal?"

"Now," Mara moved from the subject quickly, trying to save her win, "Since I won our little debate, it's time to keep moving. Next question."

Poe gestured towards her weapons after a time, genuinely curious about them, "Why'd you get the batons?"

She silently thanked him that he named them correctly, but went in to explain, "Well, this may shock you, but these I didn't steal. Family heirloom. My grandmother was this queen's protector, and the royalty awarded her with these weapons. She taught my aunt how to use them, then passed them down to her. Then my aunt taught me....you get the jist of it."

"Huh. Interesting." He commented, examining them from a few yards away, "Never really thought that hitting people with sticks-"

"-Batons. You said then correctly earlier, don't fail me now-"

"That batons could be that useful in a fight." Poe finished, earning a snide smile from the blonde when he addressed her beloved miniature staves properly.

"Just got learn how to use 'em right. Of course the blaster's always there for backup-"

A beep came from the console. Mara's head shot in its direction, getting up quickly and rushing to the control panel. Dameron made it there first, pulling the headset to his ear as the blonde jogged over. More beeps came in, signal someone had stumbled on the transmission, mostly likely the Resistance.

Mara first eagerly tried to listen in, then remembered her promise to the droid. She bent down a few feet away, pushing the button that was supposed to bring BB-8 back. She watched the astromech slowly spurred to life, each one of his lights slowly coming back on.

"Wake up bud." She whispered, tapping on his tin frame. BB-8's 'eye' finally lit up, and he started to move his head around, Are we getting saved?

Mara tried to fight the smile that was currently turning up the corners of her mouth, and she nodded, "Just maybe."

She stood back up, watching as Poe spoke, "Hello? Hello this is Commander Poe Dameron. I'm alive on Ratakka at the abandoned Imperial base. If you're out there, please respond."

More tedious beeps, which meant someone should've picked it up. The two waited, BB-8 peering up from behind them.

And they waited another minute.

Mara let out a huff, her throat tightening as she realized perhaps it was some blip in the system. Her stomach seemed to shrivel even more as the moments stretched farther. Perhaps it was a glitch, perhaps no one had heard.

Then came the crack before the message started, "Hang tight Commander, we'll be there in less than eight hours."

They were gonna be saved.

Mara tried to contain her joy, looking down at the droid with a wide smile, "You're going home pal. We're going to get fed, we're going to get water. Or we are, not you. Droids just need an occasional recharge. Me, I need food. Or do they not give food to prisoners?"

The blonde stopped short of her celebratory rambling when she caught a look at Poe's face. Her grin fell, noticing his was downcast. The pilot put down the headset, not even bothering to send a thank you transmission. Instead, he gulped, then wiped his brow, "Wow."

"What?" Mara asked, not understanding why he wouldn't be as ecstatic as her, considering he seemed to be quite lively, "What's wrong? Your people are coming to get us-"

"That wasn't the response." He uttered, eyes shifting from the control panel to the previously jubilant woman, repeating his own statement as to convince himself of it, "That wasn't the right response."

"What do you mean?" Mara questioned, her newfound hope being sucked away at the possibility he proposed, "No, just wait a second-"

Dameron shook his head, "No, no. 'It sure is a rainy day in Alderaan.' There's a response. We made one so if the channel was found by the First Order, we'd know if we were actually talking to the enemy or not. Every single Resistance member is obligated to respond to it using a correct phase if they find it. They didn't say the correct phrase. They didn't even acknowledge the original signal at all."

Now her windpipe felt constricted, realizing what Poe was implying. No, she'd suffered too much already to go back to them. Maker, she'd take full life sentence in some Resistance prison than go back there, "So you're telling me, there might be a First Order ship on its way to 'save' us, so they can come and use you for information or leverage against the Resistance?"

Dameron slowly nodded, "If the channel isn't secure and they didn't respond right, I'd say that's exactly what's happening."

Mara put both hands on her head, allowing her lungs to breathe deep as she whispered as it all set in, "We are so screwed."

thank you for the surgery well wishes. it was a success, and i am now in a lot less pain. thank you for waiting patiently for this chapter, even tho it's sorta a filler. next chapter will be the final ratakka flashback, then its back to the force awakens for us.

also, saw (hA) rogue one. loved it. it utterly destroyed me. i'm rebelcaptain and spiritassassin trash now. if you like, you can check out my fic for it, stardust. the main protagonist and mara are somehow connected.