Chapter 1

As soon as he had climbed out of his X-wing, Poe Dameron knew that C-3PO had not been exaggerating. "You'll never find a place filled with more scum and villainy than Mos Eisley," the golden protocol droid had commented upon hearing Poe's destination. Well, Poe could literally smell the scum, and it didn't take long to spot the villainy.

A high pitched and anxious whistle sounding from behind Poe let him know that his little companion felt the same way. "Don't worry BB-8," he said. "We shouldn't be here for too long." Another whistle. "No, I won't let the Jawas take you, now let's go." He could've sworn that he'd seen the droid shake its head before rolling quickly after its master.

Poe exited the landing pad and found himself in the middle of a busy street. A multitude of sentient and non-sentient beings alike passed by, buying, selling, or pickpocketing the unfortunate. "Stay close, BB," Poe warned, before joining the crowd.

He kept his head low, only looking up to make sure that he was heading in the right direction. He knew that he had reached his destination when a drunk humanoid alien came stumbling out of a brick hovel before vomiting and promptly passing out in his own vomit.

"Well, it looks like we came to the right place," Poe said cheerfully before shirking around the snoring creature, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

The cantina was dimly lit, casting shadows in every corner. Smoke and dust hung heavily in the air, adding to the humidity. The place smelled no better than outside, in fact, it was even worse, if that was possible. Everyone talked in low voices that could hardly be heard over the tinny music that the band was playing.

"Oi!" came a shout from the bar at the center of the room. Immediately, all conversations and music ceased, and every head turned in Poe's direction.

Shit. How was he going to talk himself out of this one? He began to mentally scramble for a response when the bartender continued. "We don't serve their kind here." Oh.

Poe grimaced before looking down at his droid. "Sorry BB-8, you heard 'em. I'm gonna have to do this one on my own."

BB-8 gave an indignant whir, not budging. Poe knelt down to the droid's height.

"Look, I don't like this either, but this is the only way." More beeps. "Fine, if you want to make yourself useful, go back to the plane. Make sure that no Jawas touch my baby."

BB-8 responded with a fearful string of beeps, clearly expressing his unease. Poe chuckled.

"Alright then, go wait outside and scout the area. Keep an eye out for any unfriendlies. Don't worry buddy, I'll be out soon." The droid was all too happy to comply.

Poe watched the droid roll out before turning back towards the bar. He ignored the wary glances that some of the patrons shot at him; if any of them recognized him, they didn't show it.

He slapped down enough credits for a shot of Corellian whiskey; while he was here, he might as well have a drink. He leaned casually against the bar, swirling the dark liquid around in the glass before gulping it down. His eyes immediately watered and he involuntarily cringed at the alcohol's strength.

"You look like you need another one," came a voice just over his shoulder. Poe turned to his right towards the familiar voice, then quickly faced forward again.

"I could drink this place dry if I wanted to," he replied, still staring ahead.

"I'd like to take you up on that someday," the woman chuckled, coming up next to him. "Two bottles of the strongest thing you've got, one for me and my friend here."

The bartender looked up from wiping a glass and glanced back and forth between Poe and his "friend" before shrugging and accepting the credits placed before him. "Coming right up," he said gruffly.

Nothing more was said until the drinks were served. "Hey, it's a bit crowded up here. Care to join me at my table?" Poe still hadn't looked at her, but he nodded in consent and followed her toward the back of the cantina. Of course, she had selected the booth in the darkest corner to sit in.

"So," she asked once they were seated, "to what or whom do I owe the pleasure of being graced by the presence of Poe Dameron, poster child of the Resistance? Did you know that you're also the poster child of the First Order's most wanted list and pain in the ass?"

"I figured as much. Are you here to sell me out? I've also heard that there's a hefty price on my head."

Amusement glittered in those blue eyes. "You know that I don't do the First Order's dirty work, and besides, we're not exactly on the best of terms. That happens when you've killed a few of their officers. You'd better not be wasting my time Dameron. There are plenty of potential clients out there who would gladly pay for my services. So, what does the General want this time?"

Poe reached into his jacket, pulled out a small data pad, and slid it across the table.

"This contains the location of one of our bases," he murmured. "You'll have to go there for the debriefing."

"Really? Is it that big of a secret?"

"It's just that important. The General will tell you things that can't just be stored in a data pad."

"Wow, am I that untrustworthy?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"That's debatable." He leaned back against the booth, drumming his fingers around his bottle. "So," he said, pausing to take a swig, "are you interested?"

"I wouldn't have agreed to this meeting if I wasn't. If you haven't been told already, I was on a contract here when Connix made contact." She sighed. "The things I'm willing to sacrifice for you lot."

"I see," said Poe, noting the rather expensive looking jewel attached to the choker around her neck. "I'll leave you to that-."

"Not so fast, flyboy," she said, cutting him off with a blaster aiming at his chest. "We're not done yet."

Poe could only freeze in shock at the sudden turn of events, though granted, he should have seen this coming. Perhaps the drink was getting to him. Reaching for his own gun would be foolish, so he went with the alternative: "What the hell?!"

"Don't take it too personally," she said, clipping the data pad to her utility belt with her free hand. "It's just that I don't trust you either. Now, get up."

By now, complete and utter silence had fallen; every head was turned in their direction.

Poe slowly stood, casually reaching down toward his thigh where his blaster was usually strapped, and felt nothing.

He quickly turned to now find two blasters pointing at him, and one was his.

"Professional thief, remember?" she asked, a malicious grin on her face. "Let's take a walk, shall we?"

"Can I at least finish my drink?" he asked. He then felt one gun against the back of his head, the other at his back.

"Sorry, sweetie. I need you somewhat sober. Now, move."

Poe began walking towards the entrance, hands slightly raised. Every pair of eyes was on them. "Bounty hunter business. Go back to your drinks." Liar. Most complied, but Poe did not miss the three men who slowly rose from their table. "Keep moving," she hissed into his ear.

They made their way out into the sunshine and busy streets, suddenly brought to a halt by an angry BB unit that was brandishing its blowtorch and taser-like appendage.

"BB-8, wait!" Poe shouted. "This isn't going to help either of us right now, buddy. Just stay close and we'll sort this out soon." He craned his neck slightly to address his captor. "He won't cause any trouble, I promise."

She snorted. "I know what the droid's capable of Dameron." And with that, the three plunged into the crowd, which seemed to instinctively part for them.

Poe forced himself to remain calm by thinking of all of the ways he could successfully escape. He was not about to let himself be captured by the First Order. He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he was startled when she suddenly asked: "What landing pad are you in?"

"What?" he asked dumbly. He heard an exasperated sigh. "Where is your landing pad? Don't make me ask again."

"Uh, 2187B-2."

"2187B-2. Alright, we're going to be taking a short cut and whatever you do, do not look behind you." This confused Poe even more. What was going on?

He could tell that they were moving at a faster and more urgent pace. They suddenly made a sharp right turn into an alley. "Keep moving."

They exited the alley and found themselves on another busy street. Poe recognized this street. Sure enough, when he looked across the road, he saw the landing pads. He considered bolting right then and there, but the gut feeling that had always kept him alive during battle advised against it. He could not deny the tiniest glimmer of hope that was blossoming in his chest.

They quickly crossed the street and entered the landing pad. Poe's plane had remained untouched, much to his relief. That relief was short lived, however, when he was suddenly grabbed by the collar of his jacket and shoved roughly against a wall.

"Listen to me carefully. There are three First Order agents here, and they're following us. They were in the cantina too. Someone must've known that you were coming and tipped them off. Sorry for the scare back there, but I had to get you out of there somehow. As fun as it would've been, that wouldn't have been the best place for a shootout. I had hoped that the bounty hunter façade would be convincing, but I guess I was wrong. Sorry, again."

"What-" Poe began, but he was interrupted by his blaster being shoved back into his hands.

"We don't have much time. Youdon't have much time. They'll be here any minute, so you need to get out of here. Now." She began to turn away.

"Moira."

She froze at the sound of her name, then looked down at the hand that held her wrist. "Poe," she said. "Let me go. Please."

Poe didn't, not yet. "They must have seen you too." His voice had lowered significantly, and he gazed intently into her eyes, hoping that she saw the concern in his.

"I know," she said, "but don't worry. They won't be able to tell anyone soon."

"You're not."

"Yes, I am, and you aren't going to stop me. You are going to get your ass on that plane and go!"

She wrenched her wrist free and began to walk toward the entrance, grabbing a second gun from her hip.

Poe ran toward his plane and hopped in as BB-8 got himself situated. Before he closed the hatch of the cockpit, Poe turned toward the lone figure whose hair was like fire in the sunlight. His heart clenched. "Moira!" he called out.

She turned toward him. She was now wearing a mask that covered her mouth and nose and red tinted goggles that hid her eyes, but Poe knew that she was looking right at him.

"May the Force be with you."

He could practically sense her rolling her eyes. "I don't need it."

Poe smiled and pulled the hatch down. He wasted no time in lifting off and did not look behind him.