This took longer than I'd hoped. Apologies.
Also I'm like dead tired right now so sorry if this is short. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, favorited, and read! I shall get to you all, I promise!
Shall we?
Chapter Three
Canto Bight
Outer Rim Territories
Blue eyes, wide and frightened, stared at her. The woman reached for the kitchen drawer, producing a small blaster pistol.
"Mama…"
She was scared. Why was she so scared?
The woman grasped her shoulders. "Trin, you need to listen to me. I need you to run. Go out your window and into the field, and don't stop. Don't stop running no matter what."
She nodded and fled the room, running down the hall to where her bedroom was. Her small feet almost tripped on a discarded toy.
Pushing her door open, she found a stormtrooper already in her room, with another crawling through her window.
She screamed.
"Get away from her!"
The stormtrooper fell, pushed back by some unseen force. The woman fired a single shot in the direction of the other trooper before he fired through the window and struck her in the chest.
And then she fell.
"Mama!"
With her dying breath, the woman reached out to her.
"Trin…run."
Demo bolted for the landing ramp, mind no longer in control. She was motivated purely by survival instinct, and at that moment it was telling her that if she did not leave the planet, she would die.
Just as she reached the opening, Gunner appeared, Dexshi's cowering assistant behind him. His blaster was already drawn, but his eyes focused on the one in her hands.
He lifted the blaster slightly.
"Commander?"
She hesitated.
Her hand slammed against the lift button, retracting the ramp. Gunner had plenty of time to enter the ship, yet all he did was stare at her, too shocked to react. When the Aqualish made a move to get onboard, Demo pointed her blaster at them. In reply, Gunner finally leveled his on her. He had plenty of opportunity, and they both knew he could shoot her well before she had the chance – he could have ended the madness right there and then.
Do it, Gunner.
Do it.
Shoot me.
Gunner, however, did nothing, and then he was gone.
The ramp had closed.
Demo took a breath.
Don't move.
Don't move.
Do. Not. Move.
She ran to the cockpit, mind disengaging from everything. Her hands ran up and down the control panel of their own accord, quickly adjusting the instruments of the ship and rapidly going through all the pre-flight checks until the engine roared to life.
Only then did a single blaster bolt bounce off the exterior.
Demo looked outside. Had the pane of transparisteel not been there, Gunner would have certainly hit her head. He was watching her, snapped from his shock, still confused but with a growing anger. It was a warning; it demanded she stop before she did any more damage.
But she was no longer in control. Something else was, and that something else launched the ship and took it out of the atmosphere. That something had her fly directly past the two TIEs in orbit, even as they attempted to make contact. That something put coordinates into the nav computer and jumped her to lightspeed.
She stared at the blue vortex of hyperspace, winding its way around as the ship careened through space and time to a destination she was unaware of. Demo knew she ought to check. There were a lot of things she ought to do, but she couldn't. She couldn't move, couldn't speak or think; she only stared.
"I'm Galen by the-"
Her instincts roared to life. Demo twisted around in the pilot's seat, pointing her blaster at the source of the voice. The muzzle of her pistol rested mere inches from the forehead of the young boy. The only thing keeping her from firing were the same instincts that had told her to draw on him. He was no immediate threat. Not yet.
"-way."
He appeared shocked, eyes widening at her reaction, but the boy was not afraid. In fact, he was under far less duress than he had been moments earlier. She could kill him, and yet he did not seem to mind.
Demo didn't move for a moment. She wasn't sure what to do. Her orders were to return the cargo – this boy – to The Finalizer, and his being free contradicted those orders. But she had already disobeyed and her orders no longer applied. And yet the idea of him simply being there did not sit well with her.
"Do you think you could maybe point that somewhere else?" the boy asked, his bright eyes looking at her around the pistol, making them slightly crossed. "The last guy you did that to isn't doing so well."
She lowered the blaster, stepping away from the pilot's seat and the boy into the main body of the ship. Kaid's body was still on the floor, his eyes unfocused, clothes and body settling. She stopped and watched it a moment. Some part of her, perhaps, was hoping he'd disappear or suddenly be alive, and then this entire nightmare of a scenario could be at its conclusion. Perhaps some irrational part of her feared he might somehow return from the dead, although the shot at that proximity would kill a Wookiee, let alone a human.
No, Kaid Dexshi was dead, and she was on the run.
Demo began to pace. Back and forth and back and forth she went, unable to get her thoughts under control, unable to shake the emotions coursing in her. She was angry, confused, and overwhelmed with this sense of dread that was making her hands begin to shake.
She needed to get out, but they were deep in space. This was her cage, and its walls were closing in.
Maybe she ought to just override the locking mechanisms and sheer the ship in two. That would solve all her problems. She disobeyed and was punished accordingly.
No. No, she could not do that. The First Order dictated what would be done with her. Taking her life into her own hands was explicitly forbidden. No weaponry would be disposed of unless dictated otherwise.
But she had already taken her life from their control. She was gone. She'd left Canto Bight alone, with the cargo, and had failed the mission.
Failed.
She'd failed.
Why didn't she just stay?
Why wouldn't those blue eyes go away?
"Hey!"
Startled, she pointed her blaster at the source of the sound. It was the boy, again, and he did not look impressed by the repeated effort. Still unafraid, he walked straight up to her and attempted to grab her wrist.
"Would you stop pointing that at-"
The instant his skin made contact with hers, her free hand grasped his wrist, tightly, and wrenched his arm away from her. She did not break anything, but he was clearly uncomfortable.
"Do not touch me."
That only seemed to spark his curiosity.
"So you do talk!" he shouted, wriggling free. He smiled as he looked up at her. She did not know why. "I was starting to think you were an android or something."
She looked at him, really looked at him, and wondered what the First Order could possibly want with him. This was a task directed from General Hux himself, after all. He did not appear to be of much value, no more so than any of the other young recruits that were brought in. His clothes were dirty and worn, he was thinner than a boy his age should be, aside from the bright spark in his eyes that came from the lack of training, there was nothing particularly different about him.
Recruits were never brought directly to the General. He observed their training on occasion, but it took years of qualifications before he took any particular interest in individuals. She had trained for ten years before being singled out for advanced techniques, and another ten before General Hux personally addressed her.
What could he want with this boy?
And why did he wear an inhibitor collar?
Built for a multitude of purposes, they could be supplied with any number of chemicals or commands. Some put the bearer to sleep, others were programmed to kill them immediately. She could not say what his did.
No other recruit she had ever witnessed bore one.
The boy in question scrunched his face at her intense gaze. "I think I preferred it when you were pointing the blaster at me."
She blinked and stepped away, sitting on the couch she and Gunner had occupied maybe an hour earlier, her head buried deeply in her hands.
Why did it matter what the general wanted with him? The boy was as lost to him as she was to anything else.
It was quiet for a while.
"So…what's your name?"
She ignored him, focusing on the blue eyes that kept staring at her every time she shut hers.
Who was this woman? And why did seeing her make her chest constrict?
"I gave you my name. It's only fair that I get yours."
Mama.
Mama. What was that? Mother? She did not have one; she was a trooper. Her family were the troopers to her left and right.
But she didn't have any beside her now.
"I mean, unless you don't have a name, which is okay, I guess. I mean, I didn't have one for the longest time…"
Trin.
No, that wasn't her name. Trin belonged to a little girl, a girl who was weak and couldn't fight. She wasn't weak; she hadn't been weak in years.
"…and then Old Mara told me to think of one because she was sick of shouting 'hey kid,' cause it turns out even the kids with names would answer to it, even though she only ever called for me and…"
But she was weak. Weak and disobedient.
If General Hux could lose one of his top soldiers, what did that mean for the First Order?
What had she done?
"…something against me because I was not the only kid who set the hut on fire. Hey, are you alright?"
Once again, the boy touched her, his hand just grazing her hair.
Demo reacted instantly, grabbing the arm that touched her. In one swift movement, she sat up, gripped the boy under his shoulder, and flipped him onto the couch. It wasn't enough to hurt him – part of her still obeyed the order demanding the cargo remain intact – but it shook the boy up and got him to be quiet.
"I said do not touch me!" she shouted, holding the boy down with her arm across his chest. His cheery personality faded then, and he looked ready to cry.
"I'm sorry!" he shouted, searching her eyes, for what she didn't know. "I didn't mean to…I mean…you saved me and I-"
"I didn't save you," Demo replied, releasing the boy and stepping away. She looked back to Kaid Dexshi. A missing senator might prove problematic, but she knew the First Order kept their ties loose and nearly untraceable. If anyone started poking where they shouldn't, the clean up would be swift and merciless.
She heard the couch groan as the boy sat up. "Sure you did! I mean, Zel sold me to this sleemo, and you shot him. And then you flew us out of that place! Sounds like a rescue to me."
"I wasn't supposed to shoot him."
There was a pause.
"What?"
Demo did not know why she was explaining herself to the child. Perhaps she did not like the idea that he implied she had done it all on purpose. She had not, after all; she was not herself. The woman with the blue eyes. It was all her fault.
She turned to him. "My mission was to bring you to my superior officer. Senator Dexshi was the means of attaining you from Zel Di."
"But you shot him."
"I did not mean to."
His lip quivered. He looked like some sad, small thing.
"So why did you shoot him?"
Mama!
"I don't know," Demo replied, only half-lying. "But it wasn't for you."
The child huffed, looking away from her. He stared at the body, looked around the cabin space, and began to pace just as she had. She watched as he did so, not particularly invested, but his outrage distracted her from her own internal conflict. He'd put a lot of stock into her being his potential savior. It was foolish of him to openly trust someone so quickly. But he was lucky, in a way. She'd learned her lessons in a far more painful way.
"Well, I'm not going back!" he shouted after a while, turning back and storming right up to her. He stood just short of her shoulders. "And neither are you, right? You weren't supposed to shoot that sleemo, which means you're on the run, just like me."
She didn't have an answer for that.
Now that she'd had a moment to breathe, the child's panic bringing her mind back into focus, it was very clear to Demo that she needed to follow through with her orders. Situations changed all the time, and she had been trained to react and reassess as needed. Never mind that the scenarios never called for her personal abandonment of orders.
She should have never panicked. Failure or not, her orders still stood; she needed to return the cargo to The Finalizer as instructed. Severe punishment would follow, if not death, but that was the price for incompetence.
The word made her throat constrict.
Without answering him, Demo returned to the cockpit and finally confirmed the coordinates they were heading toward.
Thand Sector. Kafrene.
A suitable place to lay low. Out of the way of most major hyperspace routes and a relatively obscure location, but outfitted with everything one would have needed to make a clean getaway: ships, illegal weapons, dealers and gangs of all sorts who were always short on help. However, there was a small First Order outpost there, an auxiliary unit, tasked with ensuring the mines still in operation stayed that way.
She'd known.
There were dozens of systems within reach that the First Order did not currently occupy. Demo could have chosen any one of those, but even in her frantic state, she had managed to set the ship on course to somewhere familiar, giving herself a second chance.
She turned around to find the boy staring at her again from just outside the doorway. He didn't speak, but it was obvious he, too, was curious about their destination.
Demo stood. "We are heading for the Ring of Kafrene. I will turn myself into the local outpost and you will continue on to my superior officer."
"No!" he shouted, running forward and attempting to hit her, but Demo grabbed his wrists before he had an opportunity to land a single punch, leaving the boy to simply struggle in her grasp. "No! No! Please! I just want to go home!"
"That is not an option."
For either of them.
D'Qar
C-3PO had done quite a few things over the years that many would consider unusual for a droid of his make and model. He had assisted the Rebellion, worked for a gangster Hutt, even pretended to be a god for Ewoks, and what a distressful time all of those occupations had been. There were even rumors from older members during the Rebellion that insisted he had done even more outlandish things prior to the Empire, but as his databanks had been wiped of any memory prior to Empire Day, 3PO was satisfied in the knowledge that it was lost to him forever.
But now, he did believe his current role in the Resistance may have topped everything he had done thus far.
Spy Master.
Or rather, intel keeper. But the Resistance troopers preferred the flourish of the former title. He wasn't really spying after all. Just asking a droid or two – or a couple hundred – what they saw and heard on a daily basis.
The thing with organic species was that they tended to overlook droids. They used them when they believed they needed them, and that was that. Most never even considered what information the droids might hold, or where their loyalties might actually lie.
Well, most droids didn't have the functionality to choose a particular side, but a few lines of code here and there did the trick.
C-3PO paused in his journey, realizing he rewrote the programming of his fellow droids – like rewriting the DNA of a living being – as if it were nothing to him.
Perhaps he was cut out for this rebel business after all.
He continued through the subterranean levels of the D'Qar base, searching for Princ – General Organa.
Honestly, he wasn't sure why his circuitry just couldn't get down the fact that he had to call her general now. It wasn't as if he couldn't just change the input code, and yet it remained. Perhaps it was an attachment.
What was the word?
Nostalgia.
"Excuse me," 3PO said, brushing by an officer. None of them ever paid him much attention. It wasn't as if he was difficult to see – he was golden after all – and yet they consistently bumped into him. He really ought to be offended by the whole thing. "Excuse me. Lieutenant! Lieutenant Connix!"
The young officer – who had once been walking directly toward him – stopped in her tracks and turned around.
The rudeness of humans never failed to surprise him.
"Lieutenant! Lieutenant, I have a message for the general!"
Connix stopped, allowing him to catch up to her. "She's busy, Threepio."
"It is of utmost importance! The First Order has-"
Eyes widening, Connix slapped her hand across his audio output unit – although he supposed mouth as simply shorter – and pushed him out of the room. Given his joints weren't made for proper motion, he nearly feel over several times before Connix shoved him into a wall.
"Well, I ne-"
"Ssshhh," Connix shushed, placing a finger over her mouth as most people seemed to do around him. "For a droid whose specialty is collecting intelligence, you sure don't know how to keep your mouth shut."
"I am merely fulfilling my programming. I wasn't aware that any information I possess was not to be discussed with other members of the Resistance, the command team in particular."
"Well, I'm making you aware now. Come with me."
He followed the lieutenant down the winding hall until they approached a small storage room. A large root cut across the wall, but no one had the heart to cut through it, so they simply built shelving around it. General Organa sat inside on a small canister, staring at…well, nothing. She did that quite frequently in recent years.
"General," Connix said, gaining Leia's attention. "I think Threepio has something to tell you. Better now than after he tells it to all the Resistance."
3PO looked between the two women. "No one told me that members of the Resistance weren't privileged to my information."
Leia sighed. "And that's on me, Threepio. Thank you, Lieutenant Connix."
The young woman nodded once and left the room, making certain the door closed behind her.
Standing, Leia shook her head. "It's not that I don't trst them, Threepio. I don't believe there are any spies amongst us, but things have been quiet as of late, and quiet means boring. Bored people talk, and then things get out of hand from there."
"Well, General, with the news I have received, they might not be quiet for long."
"What do you mean?" Leia asked.
"I just received word from a security droid stationed at the casino city of Canto Bight."
Leia gave a very unprincess-like snort. "They say the Outer Rim is where the scum of the galaxy flock. Canto Bight is full of more criminals than people on Tatooine."
"I couldn't agree more, General. Your father once had to attend a gala there and I was constantly mistaken for a waiting droid. It was humiliating."
Leia smiled. "What's the information, Threepio?"
"It seems there was a skirmish. Senator Kaid Dexshi's assistant has turned up dead on one of the beaches, but the senator is nowhere to be found, and neither is his ship."
The general put a hand to her face, thinking. "Dexshi has been on our watch list for some time. My contacts in the Senate say that he put in for leave abruptly a few days ago, and hasn't been seen since. And now his assistant is dead. Was he with anyone else?"
"Whoever the senator may have met with is unclear, but he was accompanied by two security personnel. This droid called them 'highly suspect.'"
"And why is that?"
"This security droid says that most guards are left outside the city, and the few who are allowed entry are typically unarmed and accustomed to the ways of the city."
"Meaning they participate in the fun."
"Yes, General. But the two guards with Senator Dexshi were both armed and completely unmovable. If this droid did not know better, it would have claimed they were droids themselves."
"A kill squad perhaps?" Leia mused. "The First Order is growing bold if they think they can just execute senators on a whim, especially those we suspect work for them. It would be showing their hand.
"It's not much to go on, Threepio, but keep an eye on it. Have all your informants look out for that ship. I want to know the instant it pops up again."
"Yes, of course, Prin – General."
Leia smiled again. "You know, Threepio, it's okay if you call me princess."
"I would never, General! You gave me an order!"
And with that, he left. He had other droids to check on.
Thand Sector
Expansion Region
Her memories of her early days of training were few and far between, buried beneath over twenty years of the same exercises, a tune played so frequently it was forgettable in its invariance. However, it was due to the unchanging daily routine that a few events stood out, shining beacons in the dark.
I just want to go home!
She'd heard that statement a hundred times before, a thousand. Recruits would cry it out during training, in the middle of the night, even halfway through their meals. Their words fell on deaf ears, tears on eyes turned away. Even the other children soon stopped helping one another, tired of the same sounds or afraid of being punished by association. The training increased and eventually the cries died off. They had no homes. There was only the First Order.
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, Demo could recall her voice uttering those words, one of those beacons in her memory, fading fast. She didn't know where it was or to whom. It was more of an impression, a feeling of the syllables striking against her vocal cords, a burning at the back of her throat. She'd cried hard and often, until there was no voice left.
Mama.
The boy – Galen, she recalled – was sitting in the lounge area, tucked on the other side of the couch so that she could not see him, but every once in a while, his arm would poke out or she'd catching him sniffing. She'd been watching after him from the cockpit ever since he'd exiled himself there, though she had no reason for it. Demo simply found that she could not pull her eyes from the scene.
Her knees had grown stiff from her elbows leaning on them, but Demo felt that if she moved, she was breaking some sort of rule she had established for herself, so she ignored the discomfort and carried on. It hardly registered. The sort of pain she had been trained against was far worse than this.
There was a debate in her mind, she could feel it, although she was not privy to any information. It was simple a tug in the back of her mind and in the pit of her stomach.
A small alarm rang on the console. The ship was approaching its destination.
Demo saw Galen stir but did not wait to see his reaction. She began to prep for the drop from lightspeed, hands flitting across the controls as if she had piloted the ship her entire life. Every class, every manufacturer had been lectured to her over the years. She had a functional understanding of ships from the last sixty years. Cross sections, weapons layouts, flaws and advantages both.
The senator's ship was made for luxury alone with no defensive capabilities, little maneuverability, and the barest of shields, a peculiar choice for an individual who knew full well the extent of things in the Unknown Regions. She almost ventured to say it was part of his cover, but could not bring herself to give the man that much credit.
The stars returned as the ship dropped from hyperspace, revealing an asteroid belt that stretched for parsecs. Eons ago, there had been a planetary collision that left the system bereft of life. Only a gas giant and a white dwarf star that barely stood out through the cluster of rocks in the asteroid belt remained. No one had ever bothered naming them.
Demo easily navigated the ship through the floating debris, making her way to the mining colony. A few of the larger pieces had small collectives that still gathered ore where they could find it, but for the most part, activity had been relegated to the twin cities spiraling through the belt between two of the largest asteroids.
At one point, one side had represented a higher class – reserved for the businessmen and other corporate pundits – while the other was reserved for workers, but with the mines shutting down, it was all the same. Nameless faces wandering in near claustrophobic conditions going nowhere fast.
She heard Galen behind her, probably standing just outside the threshold. Curiosity overcame many things, anger and despair included.
Even orders, she supposed.
Demo mulled over her approach. She knew the relative location of the First Order docks. A quick radio to them would confirm their location. She did not doubt that they would be interested in her arrival. Although, given she was well within sensor range, Demo was forced to wonder if the base had been informed of her treachery.
It was entirely plausible that General Hux would want to keep the matter as internal as possible. There was some good reason to it: the prevention of morale damage as well as spy interference would be of the utmost priority. However, that also gave Demo the distinct advantage of being well and truly unexpected.
The First Order was not searching for her here.
How the next few moments played out was entirely up to her.
Demo noticed her hands were shaking.
"What are they going to do to me?" Galen's small voice asked behind her.
Beat him down and drag him back up. Put him through endless exercises until his body broke. Curse at him, wound him, drill him, erase every bit of individuality he possessed in order to become a part of the whole. Steal his memories and replace them with the same arduous routines; steal his thoughts and replace them with orders.
Steal his life and replace it with the First Order.
"Nothing you will enjoy," she replied, surprised by the honesty of her statement. She never referred to anything she did in any sort of emotional context. It was in successes and failures, levels of necessity.
She reached for the comms.
"They killed everyone I lived with and sold me. How could it get worse?"
Her hand froze, hovering.
The eyes were watching her again.
Trin. Run.
Her hands returned to the controls, guiding the ship to the lower half of the asteroid. Galen called out in protest, but she ignored him, tracking incoming signals until she located an empty dock to her liking.
The ship eased onto a rusted platform, droids scattering in its wake. A pit droid shook its metallic fist in the ship's direction before the coolant systems unleashed a wave of steam that knocked it straight into an empty fuel drum.
Demo felt the landing gear grind into place before slowly releasing her hands.
She took a breath.
"Come with me," she said, spinning around in the chair and making her way into the main chamber.
Demo quickly went through any drawers and panels that were accessible, hoping for extra weapons or anything else advantageous, but most only offered additional alcoholic options. The senator's ship truly was the most useless thing she had ever boarded.
"Are you taking me to the First Order?" Galen asked, small voice defiant. He was glaring at her, a spark in his eyes that said he would fight her if he had to, no matter how small his chance of success.
She watched him a moment.
"No," Demo eventually replied, rechecking her blaster before holstering it underneath the jacket of her security uniform. She threw open a closet door, searching the interior.
"No?!" Galen echoed, enthusiasm overwhelming every syllable. She heard him jump. "What made you change your mind?"
She did not answer him, grabbing the smallest jacket she could find in the closet and tossing it toward the boy. "Put this on, collar up."
Demo waited while Galen put on the dark blue coat. It would have been too large for him even if he wasn't underweight, but it kept the inhibitor collar well-concealed, given the ends nearly went past the tops of his ears. The boy looked absolutely ridiculous, but that was hardly important, so long as no one thought she was parading a slave around.
When he was ready, Demo lowered the ramp, taking a quick glance at the stars on the other side of the shields before turning to the docking station. A single gran stood at the entryway with a datapad, mindlessly tapping away with little attention paid to them.
Her squadron had been trained to move as one, even without verbal or visual cues. They had an instinct, a connection that allowed one another to seamlessly transition through any space. So used to such simple cooperation, Demo had completely forgotten that the boy was neither one of her squad mates nor a simple soldier who was tasked to do as she commanded and nothing else. She'd been nearly off the platform when it occurred to her that he had not followed.
Galen was still at the bottom of the ramp, staring at the stars, a large grin stretching across his face.
She grabbed his arm and dragged him so hard, her grip was the only thing keeping him from falling down.
"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" he exclaimed, his little voice echoing in the large chamber until they'd finally met up with the gran and she let him go.
The gran blinked at the boy before looking to her. "Hope you're not planning on staying long. Ship like that won't last the night. We don't pay for that kind of security."
"Keep the ship," Demo replied, already turning toward the exit. "Strip it for parts. Space it."
"We don't do that either!"
He was already well behind them, an echo through the rusting hallway that led to the main station.
Demo could hear Galen's quick footsteps struggling to keep up with her and slowed her gait. She wanted to move out of the area quickly, but tiring out the boy before they had gotten anywhere remotely defendable was not going to help her out.
When they reached the interior, the bustle of Kafrene put Demo on high alert. Canto Bight had been one thing, but the large, crowded interiors of the space station nearly put her in a panic. Sensory overload. There were too many individuals to take in, too many pathways to observe, too many places to hide and things that could go wrong.
She paused briefly to reorient herself, and felt Galen bump into her.
Her arm reached around and grabbed the boy by the shoulder, bringing him in front of her.
"Keep walking. Turn when I say. Don't talk."
His hazel eyes glanced up at her. "But what about-?"
Her eyes narrowed and Galen looked forward.
They snaked through the crowds, keeping their pace the same as those around them. Every now and again, Demo would guide the boy with her hand, but otherwise let him lead them through the crowded space, allowing his curiosity to take control as she kept an eye out for any obstacles.
She discarded her jacket at one point, allowing it to drop to the ground for the crowd to dispose of eventually. It left her in her black undershirt, the fabric clinging to her skin. So many bodies close together while steam poured from questionable vents left the area boiling hot.
In the process, she had moved her blaster in front of her, occupying the small space left between herself and Galen. Few noticed it; fewer cared. An overly curious miner made a noise and shuffled away from her, but no one tried anything that would have caused an altercation.
"Where are we going?" she heard Galen ask above the clamor.
"I said 'don't talk.'"
"Yeah, but for how long?"
She ignored him, steering him down a smaller, quieter street. It was a mostly residential area, with workers turning off into unmarked doors that led to towering spirals of rusting apartments. Despite having more space to move, Demo kept Galen squarely in front of her.
"Do you have a plan?" the boy asked again.
"Keeping quiet."
"That's not a plan!"
"And that isn't silence," Demo replied, squeezing his shoulder.
"Ow, ow, okay!" Galen relented, though she could still hear him mumbling under his breath. The child went through a wide range of emotions in a small amount of time. It was a wonder he could focus on anything.
He was quiet for nearly a minute.
"I'm hungry."
"I told you-"
"Yeah, yeah, be quiet, but silence isn't going to feed me!"
"I don't have any money."
Galen crossed his arms. "Should have thought about that before you got off the ship."
Demo sighed. "First, you complained about the First Order. Now you are free and you are still complaining."
Stopping in his tracks, Galen turned to face her. "You haven't been around kids much, have you?"
She turned the boy around and pushed him forward.
They continued down the pathway, the crowds lessening as they left the residential areas and moved toward the station's life support. Endless rows of piping that nearly made up the entirety of the core that connected both asteroids. Here, the safety of numbers was gone, but Demo could think, predict, act. The less variables, the better.
Two silhouettes turned in front of them, perhaps one hundred feet away, maybe less. They carried themselves confidently, a far cry from the workers who had glumly ushered themselves through the crowded station.
She felt Galen slow and pressed him forward.
"Keep going."
"But they-"
"Have been following us since we arrived."
"How do you know that?"
It was obvious they would be followed. The instant their ship came into view, there would have been many interested parties. Luxury like that doesn't go unnoticed, that was the entire point, which was why she had been quick to rid herself of it.
Some curious onlookers would have lost interest due to their ragged appearance; others had been lost in the crowds, but some were still determined, the desperate and the curious. These particular bandits had stuck out to her the most.
When most people walked, their heads would swivel every now and again, distracted by a sudden noise or a curious image in their periphery. It was nature to not look forward at all times, unless there was something to focus on, and a target qualified.
Most tails attempted to counter this by looking interested in nothing at all, but most overcompensated, turning their heads too much or too quickly. There was nothing natural in the movement, and made them stick out even further in return.
Demo had pinned these two down without even looking behind her, using the reflective surfaces of her surroundings to gauge their situation.
It was also how she knew there was another interested party behind them.
She stopped, grabbing Galen's shoulder to do the same. To their left was a large alcove, to their right a wall lined with pipes and electrical wiring. Steam billowed around the air. There was maybe ten feet between each side.
Small, contained, where she could dictate the pace.
"Don't turn your head," Demo whispered, staring straight at the incoming attackers. Both were human, tall, well-fed, armed with large blasters that were currently holstered, no doubt to interact with threats first before actually drawing, not that it mattered. The zabrak behind her already had his blaster out, ready to fire if anything went wrong. "When the time comes, lie flat on the ground."
"How will I know?"
She didn't answer, keeping her focus on the two men walking forward. They were casual, almost smiling; they would regret that.
Wait, a voice in her mind spoke.
Wait.
Wait.
Demo shoved Galen into the alcove, not pausing to check on him as she quickly turned to fire on the zabrak behind them, hitting him in the shoulder, the being too stunned by her sudden movement to fire back. He hadn't expected her to go for him.
Her momentum carried on, swinging her back around to fire on the two humans as they grappled for their blasters. She wasn't Gunner, and her hit on the right man was only glancing, but it was enough to send them into a frenzy, collapsing to the ground as she stepped into the alcove and cover.
"Stay down!" she shouted, catching Galen glancing up at her from the corner. His face disappeared again as she began to climb the piping that lined the walls.
Blaster fire pounded the edge of the alcove as the two humans attempted to dispatch her, but she was too high up and out of their sight, and Galen was too far in to be in any danger. Demo wrapped herself around a protruding pipe, aiming her blaster at the opening and waiting.
They could eventually drive her out. She and Galen were cornered after all. They could wait, call for reinforcements, strand them there with no chance of aid, but they had even less patience than Captain Phasma, and perhaps as much pride. They would come to her, and in that lay her victory.
The blaster fire ceased and she could hear them yelling back and forth, swearing and passing blame onto one another.
Their voices drew closer.
Wait.
In their foolishness, both humans turned the corner, opening fire on the open air. Galen screamed at the sounds, but was unhurt as the bolts flew clearly over him. Demo fired two shots. Two bodies hit the floor.
Without wasting time, she jumped down, taking cover on the other side to prepare for the zabrak, but no attack came.
Then she heard the sound of footsteps running away.
Wasting no time, Demo jumped from cover, aiming down her sights at the rapidly shrinking figure.
Wait.
The blaster had decent range, and she had time.
Her finger slowly closed around the trigger.
"Don't!" Galen shouted his hands closing around her wrists and pulling her arm down. Demo's trigger discipline just stopped her from misfiring her blaster. She only barely stopped herself from elbowing the boy in the jaw as well. It was instinct and she was fighting tooth and nail against it.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice harsh and loud.
"Don't kill him!"
"They tried to kill us!"
"That doesn't mean we should kill him!"
She wrenched free of his grip and raised her blaster again, but the zabrak had already rounded the corner. Part of her wanted to give chase; part of her knew it was pointless.
Demo looked down at him, ready to berate the boy, but the words were lost to her as she found him staring right back up at her. He was not going to budge.
Another pointless effort.
With a sigh, she turned to the bodies of the two humans on the ground. She began to search them.
"Why are you doing that?"
Galen was looking down on her, a disturbed look on his face.
Demo produced a credit chip and offered it to the boy. "Do you want to eat or complain?"
He stared at the gold piece as if it was covered in the blood of its former owner.
And then took it.
.
.
.
No Poe this chapter, but he will make a triumphant return in the next one, promise. Things are starting to kick off!
Until next time! Thank you!
