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Adrenaline was a drug to Poe Dameron. It made him feel alive, made him feel free. It gave him limitless bounds of energy and courage. It powered the daring stunts he pulled in his beloved X-Wing, high above the cage of gravity.
It let him forget his pain.
Danger was a stimulant to Poe. More danger meant a bigger rush. Danger was another drug, and Poe was a heavy addict. He'd faced death more times than any other normal human his age, and he liked it.
Flirting with death was just part of the job description. His life was expendable. His cause was not.
At least, that's what he told himself.
These thoughts coursed through Poe's mind in a matter of seconds as he expertly piloted Black One across a wave of TIE fighters. His lithe fingers depressed the customized triggers lightly, sending a burst of blood-red laserfire into the enemy line. Five shots, five fighters downed.
Normal. Funny how people thought these kind of simple stunts remarkable.
"This is Red Six to Black Leader!" Poe's comm staticked to life. "I've got one on my tail, can't shake it!"
Poe's analytic eyes swept over his battlefield before calculating the trajectory. Barely five seconds. He guided his X-Wing in on the TIE chasing Brance's ship, dangerously close to the bridge of the Star Destroyer leading the fleet. His movements were barely human, making tight turns that even the most experienced pilots wouldn't dare to try. Within a matter of seconds, he'd reduced said TIE fighter to smithereens.
"Thanks, Poe!"
"No problem," Poe replied monotonously. He rolled his eyes. Stupid kriffing distractions. This was too easy. All of his battles these days were.
Well, the ones that could be fought ship-to-ship were.
Poe took a deep breath to center himself. Flying was second nature to him. Black One wasn't just a ship; she was just another part of him, her controls extensions of Poe's arms. His jaw set firmly as he led his squadron in tight formation through the ranks of TIEs.
"Hit the main destroyer!" he ordered. "Aim for the bridge! Reds Two and Four, Blues Three and Seven, follow me! We're gonna give our friends some supporting fire!"
"Copy that, Black Leader!" The affirmation rang four times, and Poe executed a twisting maneuver underneath the belly of the Star Destroyer. He didn't check to see whether or not his squadmates were following before circling back and facing the oncoming TIEs head-on.
"Poe, what are you doing?!" Poe didn't know who gave the exclamation, but he switched off his comms and concentrated on his shots. Through a binary monitor, BB-8 gave a shrill whistle.
"I know what I'm doing!" Poe retorted, flipping switches and levers faster than what seemed humanly possible. Banking tightly across the starboard wing, one TIE behind him couldn't keep up and crashed into the side of the massive ship.
BB-8 offered a cynical reply, which Poe ignored.
He breathed deeply and let the rush, the thrill of battle, overtake him. His hands moved of their own accord, dancing across the controls and triggers as if the whole dogfight were a game. In a way, it was. There was a winner, and there was a loser. There were no rules, just formations and risks one had to be willing to take.
Perhaps Poe was also a gambler. His life was no more than an unpredictable wildcard, just one of the many that the Resistance could throw down in front of the First Order.
Twisting wildly, but shooting accurately, Poe managed to blast the whole squadron of TIEs to oblivion. He couldn't see his fellow squadmates, but he could feel their ships behind his. He wasn't quite sure how, but it was like a sixth sense that came to him all too naturally on the battlefield, another instinct to follow.
Poe, wearing off the adrenaline rush, put his comm system back online. Cheers from Red and Blue Squadrons greeted him as they regrouped. Poe glimpsed red laserfire and the final explosions rocking the Star Destroyer and nodded in approval.
His squad had done well.
General Organa seemed to disagree with Poe's sentiments.
"What were you thinking, leaving your squadmates behind like that?" she demanded. "You broke protocol, turning off your comm system!"
"Look, General, I got the job done," Poe replied, trying to keep his tone even. "No one got hurt, and we blew up a Star Destroyer. I don't see what the problem is!"
"And that is the problem, Commander," Leia retorted. She sighed. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately."
Poe frowned. "I don't know -"
"Oh, I'm sure you do," Leia said, crossing her arms. "You're giving risk a whole new meaning. You throw yourself and your subordinates straight into the face of danger as though you don't care."
Poe opened his mouth to offer a snarky reply, but Leia cut him off. "Now if it were just you, I wouldn't mind as much. I trust you, Poe. You're a good pilot. Scratch that. You're the best one we've got. I can watch you fly right into a squadron of TIEs because I know you'll make it back out in one piece."
"Thank you, General." One corner of Poe's mouth twitched upward in a half-smirk.
"But," Leia continued, her expression stony, "I cannot stand by and let you endanger our two best squadrons."
"Exactly!" Poe interjected. "They're our best! They've worked their way into Red and Blue Squadrons for a reason. We've all got jobs to do, General, so let them do theirs."
"Are you trying to argue with me here?" Leia's voice did not rise, but a hint of anger was evident in her tone.
Poe ran a hand through his hair. "No, but I don't see why you have such a big problem with the , we made it all out okay. We won. "
"Can you guarantee that we'll always win?" Leia asked softly.
"We haven't lost a fight since I became Commander," Poe replied honestly. "I'd like to keep my streak going."
"It's not going to if you keep throwing yourself in the face of danger like that," Leia said tiredly. "I don't know how else to make you see this, but I can't let this continue." Her light brown eyes met Poe's caf-dark ones. "Do you understand me?"
Poe sighed. He knew a threat when he heard one. "Yes, General."
"Dismissed."
Poe dipped the cloth back into the container of polish, soaking it thoroughly before rubbing the liquid over the upper port wing of Black One. Sure, he could have let mechanics or flight engineers do this job, but he liked to take care of his own ship. Besides, he'd made so many modifications that he doubted any ordinary flight hand would be able to handle the distinctive orange and black X-Wing.
He'd shed his flight suit in favor of a black short-sleeved shirt and cargo pants with his favorite red-and-tan leather jacket tied around his waist. The front of his pants were dark with grease and filth, but Poe didn't really care. It felt good to be around his X-Wing, even if he wasn't actually flying it.
BB-8 watched him work with a critical eye. The droid rolled around, occasionally making comments about dents or paint chips. Poe took the droid's small talk in good stride, pausing every now and then to reply.
BB-8 chirped a few times.
"Yeah, I see that, Beebee," Poe answered. "I'm getting to it."
Long whistle and two beeps.
"No, I'm fine. Why are you asking?"
Whirr, whirr, a series of fast clicks.
"Just the usual. Leia telling me to stop being reckless as always." Poe didn't look at the droid, just rubbed harder against the shining orange wing. Something didn't sound quite right, and he pressed his ear to the cool metal.
Running his hands over his ship, Poe lightly made his way over to the S-foil and the half-moon engine near the body of the ship. Peering intently into the structure, Poe glimpsed a small piece hanging loose.
Hopping off of the wing, Poe jogged to BB-8. "Hey, Beebee, can you get me a C spanner?"
The droid complied, one of its circular compartments opening and producing the small device. BB-8 gave a questioning beep, and Poe gave a short laugh.
"No, just something loose in the S-foil," he replied. Taking the spanner in his teeth, Poe used both arms to hoist himself up into the cockpit. He powered up the engines and locked the S-foils in attack position before shutting them back down again. A normal T-70 fighter wouldn't have been able to assume attack position stably while on land, but then again, Black One was not a normal T-70 fighter.
Standing on the edge of the cockpit, Poe took a small leap and nimbly landed on the upper wing. Thank goodness for reinforced titanium. Stepping onto the lower wing as one would the rungs of a ladder, Poe used his elbows to support himself as he worked the spanner around the inside of the S-foil.
He hummed quietly as he unlocked the internal gyro from the fuselage, taking the device apart in his nimble fingers and correcting the alignment of one of the pieces. Within a few minutes, Poe had reassembled the gyro and secured it back inside. He locked the S-foils back into resting position and resumed the polishing of his craft.
A few hours passed, and Black One had regained her sleek shine. Poe stepped back and admired his work, wiping sweat from his brow. He sighed. Truth be told, he itched to take her out in battle again, but Leia had denied takeoff from any of their hangars.
Poe wiped his hands on his pants and gestured to BB-8. The sun was already beginning to set.
"Let's go in, buddy."