[ The flash of confusion that crosses Poe's face is clear. He knows these guys. He's seen them. He even fought alongside some of them, in training. Which is why it's making his brain do weird confusing hiccups trying to figure out why the hell one of them is here and what the hell he's doing. He doesn't think of undercover work. Who would send a clone, when you can send a recruit that won't be recognized if they drop their mask?

No.

Whoever this guy is, he's not supposed to be here. And the reason the imps are shooting at them, the reason they're here at all, is because they don't want him to be here either.

He's not the fastest guy on the planet - this whole thought process takes a long few seconds and is entirely visible on his face. But by the end of it, his lips set in a grim line. ]

No one's shooting anyone. We're not going anywhere. We'll hold the fort. Get you off planet again.

Then you can tell me exactly what we're doing here in the first place.

[ He stands back up, none the worse for wear, though his brows are pulled tight.

He owed a trooper, once.

Time to pay it forward. ]

We've got your back. Go.