42. That was her number. Now with the resistance, 42 must cover her past life which proves difficult when she cannot tell her true name. And that Dameron guy . . . He needs to stop asking questions.
Follows The Rise of Skywalker
"I'm going to pick up Luke's search for a Exegol," the girl in white said to Dameron. "I'm going to start where his trail went cold. The forbidden desert of Pasaana."
"Yeah, I know," said Dameron. "We're going with you."
He threw a thumb behind himself. Another man, a golden droid, and I began boarding the ship.
"I need to go alone," the girl protested to the other man. She stopped him from boarding.
"Yeah, alone with friends," said the man.
"It's too dangerous, Finn."
"We go together," he insisted. "But uh—" Finn now leaned over to Dameron. "Why's she coming?" he whispered a little too loudly.
He was talking about me.
"I invited her. We could use the extra help," Dameron insisted.
Finn looked me over. He was rightfully suspicious.
I was allowed to board the ship. The five of us plus the two droids sat in the cockpit.
Poe was flying. The wookie was the co-pilot. Finn, the girl, and I sat behind them.
I had never been this demoted.
As we reached a lull in the journey, Dameron decided to play twenty questions. Only, he was the one asking every question.
"So," the pilot began. "Where you from?"
"That's classified," I said firmly.
"Hmmph . . . Do you want us to call you 42 or . . . do you have another name?"
"42 is fine."
"What does that mean, anyway?"
"Poe—" Finn warned.
"It's my number," I said. "The 42nd Mandalorian."
"Uh huh . . . 3-PO," Poe called to the gold droid. "Got any info on Mandos?"
"Well, sir, there isn't much information anywhere on the Mandalorian," the droid began. "Their planet is unknown, their numbers are unknown, and there is little known about their society."
"This is the way," I mumbled.
"Except that," said 3-PO.
"What?" asked the collective.
"The Mandalorian's slogan or moral they live under is the phrase 'this is the way.' Other than that, there is little public knowledge," the droid rambled.
"Well, we know there's at least 42 of them," Finn figured.
The girl slammed her fist on her chair. "You all are being rude," she said firmly.
The men shut up real fast.
"We never even introduced ourselves. My name's Rey."
She outstretched a hand. I took it.
"Name's Poe," said Poe.
"Finn." We shook hands.
The wookie up front let out a call.
"That is Chewbacca, but the others call him Chewy," the droid chirped. "I am C3-PO."
"Pleasure," I said.
"So, 42 are you going to be joining the Resistance?" Rey asked.
"The Mandalorian don't pick sides," I explained "I was just here for a funeral. I'm looking for some work next."
"Well, there's plenty of work around the Base," said Poe.
"Yes, but does it pay . . ." I said.
"I mean, you get a salary," said Dameron. "But most aren't in it for the money. They're in it for the cause."
He grew quiet.
"Is it true you never take off your helmet?" Poe said suddenly.
"Poe!" Rey scolded.
"What?"
This was going to be a long ride.
***
As we got off the ship and stepped into the hot sun of Pasaana, Rey pulled me aside.
"I cannot believe he asked you that," she said.
"It's okay," I began. "I get that more than you'd think."
"You sure this is it?" Poe asked at the front of the group.
"These are the exact coordinates Master Luke left behind," confirmed C3-PO.
As we rounded the corner of a large rock, we were met with the sounds of cheering and celebration.
"What's this?" asked Finn.
"The Aki-Aki celebration of the ancestors!" 3-PO exclaimed. "This festival only occurs once every forty-two years."
"How lucky," said Poe.
How ironic, I thought.
As we waded through the crowd of revelers, I couldn't help but smile beneath my helmet.
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