After they were hailed, the crew made it to the hangar with little trouble. It also helped that they had an excellent pilot.
Finn watched as his friend landed them in the pristine hangar, the walls screaming white so loudly it almost hurt his eyes. A few other First Order shuttles sat docked near them, the occasional trooper or officer walking by. But much to their delight, the two saw that the hangar was mostly empty.
Finn pursed his lips and looked out. He didn't like being here. And the nagging hole in his stomach was a testament to that.
He felt a hand clasp his shoulder. "Hey buddy," came Poe.
Finn turned to him. His face probably showing all the fear he was trying to hide.
Poe's eyes were soft. A liquid pool of warmth. "It's going to be alright, okay?"
Finn's head managed a nod.
Poe spread his lips into a smile. "Now, to unload our cargo," he said, powering down the ship.
"Yeah..." Finn took a deep breath.
"Ready, R2?" Poe asked with a glance at the droid.
R2 responded with a twirl of his head, and the two men donned their helmets. "Then let's go," Poe announced.
They left the cockpit, R2 following close behind. Three oblong crates greeted them in the cargo hold--their friends' presence only noticeable by the occasional low ruffle. Poe punched a button on the side, the boarding ramp lowering on his command.
A First Order officer stood waiting right below, two stormtroopers at her side.
Finn gulped. The docking master. He had almost forgotten they had to check in with her.
Poe gave a glance his way. Finn didn't even need to see his face to know that he was confused at how to approach this situation. Do they lie? Do they attack? They needed to think of something, and they needed to do it fast.
Finn found his back straightening. He knew this armor. He knew this hangar. He knew the symbols on the officer's vest. He knew the protocol the troopers beside her were following. He knew it all. And despite his utter disgust with his mind for remembering, it came back to him quickly.
If this mission was to be successful, he was going to have to resort to what he did in the shuttle: he had to be a stormtrooper. He had to be FN-2187. So he let the instincts he tried so hard to bury resurface.
His legs walked of their own accord to greet the officer, Poe and R2 on his heels. "Good evening, ma'am. Shuttle S3572 from Brion, checking in with a 182," he said.
The officer nodded curtly. She eyed R2 curiously before turning her attention to her datapad. Her finger scrolled through. "Another shipment for Operation OR, I presume?"
"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, even though he had no clue what that meant.
She sighed, indifferent. "Alright." She nodded her head towards them, her eyes still on the screen in front of her. "Give them the bands."
The troopers at her side came up, retrieving orange bands from their utility belt. Finn eyed them as one snapped it around his upper arm. "What's this for?" he asked the trooper, who had a similar band to him now.
"The base is on lockdown due to the internal problems we're having," the officer answered.
The trooper shrugged beside him. "It's the only way to keep track of who's allowed to be walking around, and who's not."
"Yes, and I would advise you to hurry your delivery and go. Idling around grants you more than awkward stares now," the officer mused.
"Oh, wonderful," expressed Poe.
Finn glared at him. You don't just make remarks like that, his mind screamed.
But despite his fear that this blew their cover, a snort came from the trooper beside Poe. "I know right," he said.
"Thanks to those rebellious fools, security tightened," explained the trooper next to Finn. "We even got gray-heads here."
Finn's head wheeled to the trooper. "Gray-heads?" he exclaimed.
"Yeah. It's a mess."
Before Finn could ask anymore, the officer spoke up, "Enough." She folded her arms. "You two know this is a delicate situation, so I suggest you stop talking."
"Yes, ma'am," said the two troopers, their voices synchronized.
She rolled her eyes at them as they rejoined her at her side. Then her attention returned to Finn and Poe. "You're clear to unload. Take the cargo to the lab."
"Yes, ma'am," Finn saluted. Poe awkwardly saluted with him.
The greeting party left them. And Finn and Poe turned back to the ship. R2 beeped below them.
"Yeah, I second R2," whispered Poe tersely. "What are gray-heads?"
"It's not 'what.' It's 'who,'" Finn clarified. "And who they are is bad news."
~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in a whole separate section of the outer ring, the Night Buzzard landed, greeted with much more than a docking master. Two squadrons of gray-armored Sentinel troopers stood at attention, their blasters in hand. In front of them stood a few miscellaneous personnel that Ren could care less for, and Commander Harrow and Captain Phasma.
Ren strolled down the Buzzard's boarding ramp. His Knights following behind like living shadows. Harrow and Phasma met him halfway, the two women striding forward.
"It's good to see you, my lord," greeted Harrow, with a small bow. "When we got word of the rebellion in our ranks, I had hoped it wouldn't reach here." She pursed her lips. "It seems I was wrong."
Ren looked out over the gray mass. "It's not from lack of initiative, I assume Commander."
"No, my lord," Harrow quickly answered. "After the three traitors were caught, the entire base was locked down. Only certain troopers are allowed to be out. Nothing, or no one, has been found since then that raises suspicions."
Phasma stepped in then. "Supreme Leader deemed it prudent to deploy garrisons of his personal guard to protect and monitor the base," she reported. "They are the only ones we can trust that aren't harboring thoughts of rebellion."
Ren continued his gaze over the troopers. "A wise decision. As always." He snapped his attention back to Harrow. "Take me to these traitors, Commander. Let's figure out what they are hiding."
"Yes, my lord."
Harrow then strode off to the exit. Ren gave one last look to his Knights, signaling them with a nod, before they all dispersed. He followed after the Commander, Phasma in tow.
And like an annoying itch in the back of his mind, he could sense Rey. And his old Master. The two closer than they were on Gala almost. He sensed them on the Finalizer but this time they were in his reach.
There was a turmoil of emotions that came with that itch. Each feeling ricocheting off his brain so fast it was practically causing a headache. He didn't want to see them. But he also wanted to. He had to.
And he had a feeling that before his time was up here, they would cross paths. Whether they were ready or not.