THE PILOT

A commotion upstairs roused her from her sleep and in a moment of panic she groped around for her weapon, forgetting that she no longer kept it on her. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she threw back the covers of her cot, greeted by the usual rush of cool air. Swinging her legs over the side, she gave herself a moment to adjust to her new waking state before pausing to listen out for any further disturbances. Living beneath a bar that served as one of the most notorious watering holes for pirates, smugglers and fugitives, she was not unfamiliar with the cacophony that often carried down the staircase to the small room she occupied below; but she could not say that it was something she would ever get used to. Keeping still, she cocked her head and listened to the distinctive voice of Maz Kanata welcoming her new patrons, the sound muffled by the barrier of the stone between them, as well as the usual hum of conversation above. A clattering and scraping of chairs across the floor soon followed as the new guests took their seats. From the amount of noise she guessed it to be quite a large group.

Curious now, she slipped into a black tunic and dark-grey leggings, cinching the outfit at the waist with a leather belt. After pulling on a pair of old, worn boots, she made her way up the staircase to the main floor, pausing in the doorway to survey the room before making her entrance. She spotted the source of the raucous almost immediately. Seated amongst the usual crowd of rough-looking travelers, their tell-tale insignia stood out in the worst kind of way, attracting suspicious looks from everyone around them. But the young group of pilots didn't seem to take any notice, enjoying their drinks and chattering loudly amongst themselves, breaking into occasional bursts of laughter. She watched them for a moment before heading for the bar.

The large Whiphid that had been occupying her usual seat tore his eyes away from the group of newcomers in time to see her approaching. He quickly got to his feet with a brief, almost respectful nod before hurrying off. She eyed the hairy, tusked creature for a moment before sitting down, trying to ignore how warm the seat still felt beneath her. Grimacing, she waited for the establishment's owner to turn around.

"You're finally awake," Maz commented, catching the tired, disgruntled look of her long-time lodger. Despite being a mere four feet tall, the ancient pirate queen had an impressive presence that kept even the worst-behaved criminals in line, commanding the kind of respect that galactic royalty could only dream of. No one messed with Maz, and if all else failed she had very powerful friends to back her up.

"Yeah, well, your lovely new customers didn't give me much choice in the matter," the other woman replied, stifling a yawn.

"And about time, too. You've been sleeping almost the entire day."

"These days, I take sleep where I can get it."

"You were out in the woods again last night," Maz stated.

"Yes. Meditating."

"I know exactly what you do out there, Maia," Maz said, turning back to prepare the young woman her usual cup of caffeine, "No need to lie."

Maia eyed her before glancing back over at the group of newcomers.

"Resistance fighters," Maz commented, noticing her gaze as she handed her the drink.

"What are they doing here?"

Considering the reputation of the thousand year-old castle, it seemed an odd choice of respite for the servicemen and women, and from the looks being thrown in their direction, everyone else appeared to agree. Though the New Republic seemed determined to catch and prosecute every known criminal in the galaxy, the Resistance, a rogue offshoot of the Republic military, were known to be a little more lax when it came to such matters. The way they saw it, there were far more pressing issues to address in the galaxy then the interplanetary tradings of a few crooked scoundrels.

"Why don't you go ask them yourself?" Maz replied, busying herself with a new order of drinks. She turned away once more to direct one of her workers to the correct table.

Maia cast her a disapproving look as she felt someone step up beside her.

"Could I get another round of drinks for me and my buddies, please?" the man asked, with good-cheer in his voice. He turned his gaze to the women next to him, giving her a subtle look up and down as she continued to ignore him. Realizing her spoon was still stirring freely in her cup, Maia's hand shot up to stop it, tapping it out and laying it down on the counter, hoping he hadn't noticed. "And maybe one for your friend here, too," the man added, with a curious frown.

Maia sipped her drink, taking her time before she bothered to show him the slightest amount of interest. When she finally looked over, she was immediately caught off guard by his friendly face and genuine smile.

"Or maybe you'd like to come join us? You're more than welcome," he went on.

She stared at him for a moment, hoping to disguise her surprise at the invite as contemplation. She allowed herself a moment to take in his warm, brown eyes and dark waves, then turned back to her beverage. "I'm fine here."

"Don't mind Maia," Maz interrupted, laying the first tray of fresh drinks on the counter in front of them, "She has trouble recognizing when a handsome young man is flirting with her."

Maia threw her a dark look as the man smirked, then continued to focus her attention on her drink.

"Why? Are there no other men on this planet?" the pilot commented.

Maz chuckled and threw Maia a suggestive look, but the girl appeared thoroughly unimpressed by the woman's attempts at matchmaking.

"I think she's just mad because your friends interrupted her beauty sleep."

"My apologies," he said, and she could feel his attention on her once more, "We do get a little rowdy when we're celebrating. Though I must say, she doesn't look like she needs any."

Maz stared, waiting for some kind of response from the girl, at the very least some sort of acknowledgment of the compliment. She thought she caught a brief flicker of appreciation, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced by her usual surly demeanor. The pilot's attention was called briefly back to his table as one of his friend's made a request for a different kind of drink. Taking the opportunity while he was distracted, Maz threw another suggestive look at Maia, who gave a vehement shake of her head, with a silent but heated argument ensuing. The angry mouthing stopped as soon as the young man turned back around.

"So, what are you guys celebrating?" Maia finally gave in, curiosity getting the better of her.

Content that she had done her part, that this might actually go somewhere good for the girl, Maz turned back to pour the rest of the drinks.

"Well, I guess that would depend on which side you're on," the pilot replied, a touch of humor to his voice.

Maz set the second tray down next to the first, giving the young man a clear look. He caught the gesture with a slight frown, then glanced back.

"Neither," Maia responded evenly, what little interest she'd had in getting to know him evaporating in an instant

"We don't like to bring politics in here," Maz interrupted, "We trust everyone to keep their business to themselves and to not start any trouble."

"Trouble?" he began, but picking up on the hint he stopped himself.

"Well, considering who he works for and where he is, that last part seems a little unavoidable," Maia said to Maz.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She nodded to the insignia on his sleeve. "Everyone here probably thinks you're out to arrest them."

"And why would I do that?"

He knew very well what kind of place this was and the kind of crowd it attracted, but as far as he was concerned he and his crew were off the clock. They were simply there to enjoy themselves. Even if his better instincts were urging him to reconsider. Who knew what kind of crooked deals were being made right under their noses? For all he knew, the place could be crawling with First Order sympathizers.

"So you're not here to arrest anyone?"

"Should I be?"

He followed her gaze back into the room behind them. Every strange eye was on him. Maia smirked at the way his brow furrowed as his current position became very clear. "I wouldn't recommend it."

"Well, my offer still stands," he smiled again, as he turned back. He took one of the drinks from the tray and placed it down in front of her, meeting her gaze once more. "Join us, if you like. No politics, I promise. Just a few drinks."

"I'll think about it," she told him, sounding very much as though she wouldn't.

Nodding, he grabbed a tray, exchanging one last glance with Maz, then called one of his buddies over to give him a hand with the other. Maia watched as they made their way back to his table. Facing forward once more, she eyed the drink he had left before realizing Maz was staring at her.

"What?"

The bar owner flicked her with a dishtowel, causing her to flinch. "A good-looking boy like that makes a move on you and all you can say is 'what'?"

"I'm not interested," she told her, leaning back a little to avoid any more impromptu attacks.

"Like hell you're not."

She gazed at her old friend and sighed, unable to even look her in the eye as she replied. "I can't, Maz. I'm…I'm not ready." The words sounded pathetic even to her. She stared down into her cup, finding comfort in the swirling black liquid, but catching her miserable reflection in the process.

"You have to let that one go," the ancient pirate queen told her, her usually-blunt tone taking on a softer edge. Though small in stature, the woman's words always seemed to carry great weight. "You came all the way out here to escape that life. What harm is there in seeing where things go?"

Maia looked back over at the pilot who was chatting happily with his friends. He caught her gaze and smiled, catching her off guard a second time as she felt the corners of her mouth quirk up in response.

"He's too involved," she reasoned, as she turned back and regained some of her composure, though the strange flutter in her stomach still remained.

"Maybe that's a sign."

Maia looked up at her trusted confidante, the woman's centuries of experience shining through her words, but she still would not allow herself to believe it.

"I'm done with that. You know I can't go back now. I can't get involved again."

"Well, maybe just chat him up for the night, then," the pirate queen broke into a lighter note, "You've already got the room…"

"Maz!"

"Doesn't have to be a relationship, Maia, but I can see it in your eyes. You need the company."

She was right, and Maia knew it. She could put it down to the woman's force-sensitive nature, but she knew it was becoming more glaringly obvious with each day. For the past couple of years that she had been calling Takodana home, she had been hit on by men of all different species, from all different reaches of the galaxy, and she was beginning to wonder if that loneliness had always been showing through, drawing in other lonely souls like some gloomy black hole. The Resistance pilot was probably the one with the cleanest record, but then considering some of the work of the New Republic, the way they self-righteously 'cleaned-up' the galaxy, she wondered if that was entirely true. All of these young men and women had started somewhere, and she was certain that somewhere had been wherever the New Republic ordered them, and whatever the New Republic had ordered them to do – you point, we'll shoot. She'd heard enough stories. She knew plenty of petty criminals whose worst crime was getting stolen cargo from point A to point B. Not all of them were killers.

The smash of glass snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked back in time to see a large Krish bearing over the group of pilots. The one who had invited her to join them stepped forward, pressing his fingers to the Krish's armor plating to create some distance between the humanoid and his friends, somehow managing to look calm and collected as he did so.

"Something we can help you with there, pal?" he asked staring up at him. The Krish stared back, eyes narrowing above his slitted nostrils, his bottom canines jutting over his top lip. Thick muscles flexed beneath leathery skin as a growl resonated from deep within his chest.

"New Republic scum," he said in a gruff voice, before spitting at the pilot's feet. He looked back up at him. His move. The pilot glanced down at the hunk of saliva then back up to meet the pirate's gaze. Maz stepped out from behind the bar to stand beside Maia, both waiting to see were this would go, though Maia didn't seem particularly concerned. Hands wrapped around her steaming mug, she continued to sip her beverage as she observed the unfolding scene from her seat. Everyone knew the unspoken rule about fighting in Maz's bar. Any disputes were to be settled outside, or risk being banned from the establishment for good. Or, depending the severity of the behavior, perhaps something worse.

The room had gone silent. All eyes were on the pilot and the pirate still standing over him.

Maia watched almost impressed as the pilot gave an amused huff and turned back to his friends, effectively putting an end to the confrontation. Or so he thought. The Krish's hand went for his blaster, but as he began to raise the weapon it was ripped from his hands by some unseen force. He fumbled at empty air. The pilots had jumped to their feet the moment they had seen him pull the weapon, but now stared in wonder at the woman by the bar as she aimed it at its previous owner.

Gripping the blaster with an even expression, Maia spoke to the would-be attacker in his harsh dialect, a calm but clear demand for him to stand down. He growled once more, taking a step towards her and jabbing a finger first in her direction, then at the pilots, as he argued back in furious tones. Still, appearing unaffected, she came back at him with the same, calm demand. But with his next response she seemed to falter, dropping the blaster back down by her side. Her reply came in a gentler but still commanding tone, and, knowing better than to argue with her again, the Krish finally backed down. Satisfied that he was no longer a threat, she passed him back his blaster, touching him on the arm in a way that came across oddly sympathetic to his would-be victim.

Glancing around, Maia was suddenly very aware of the attention she had drawn to herself. Her eyes skipped briefly back to the pilot, who, along with the rest of his squadron, continued to stare back in utter astonishment. As the chatter around the room began to pick up once more, the patrons satisfied that the spectacle had reached its conclusion, (and many disappointed that it had ended so peacefully), Maia moved back to the bar, glancing briefly at the drink that the young pilot had left her as she polished off her cup of caf. Sensing his impending approach, she took out some currency and placed it on the counter, turning to Maz before the woman could say a word. "Their next round's on me."

Maz watched her walk towards the front exit, knowing exactly where she would go, and shook her head. That had been a mistake, she knew, and not just because of the strict 'no fighting' policy. They had done so much to help her lay low, the fleeting moment could mean a huge setback. Maia had to know that. But then it had all happened so quickly she doubted anyone had had the chance to put two and two together. Her gaze swept across the room, but she caught no suspicious looks, no one contemplating following up on the incident. All except for one man.

Taking a seat atop the table, Poe Dameron watched with interest as the young woman who had just saved his life slipped silently into the night.