Just so everyone is aware, during this crisis, I am considered essential personnel, so I am not on lockdown. I still go to work five days a week, so don't expect me to be popping these out rapidly. That said, everyone please stay safe, wash your hands, keep your distance. We can beat this stupid virus.
Chapter Four
Ring of Kafrene
"Are you sure you know how to do this?"
"Yes."
"Like…how well?"
Demo glanced up at the anxious hazel eyes staring at her in the mirror. She'd seen that fear and uncertainty before. In recruits, enemies, even veteran officers of the First Order. She had viewed such emotions with reserved disdain. They represented weakness, cowardice, a lack of faith in their doctrine, but in Galen, this was not the case. She understood his doubt and wanted to clear up the matter.
Her gaze returned to the task at hand, fingers deftly removing unnecessary components. "I spent years learning how to defuse various devices, inhibitor collars included. Yours is unique, but not unmanageable."
"Is there a bomb in it?"
"Most likely."
The way Galen froze told Demo she had erred. Honesty, it seemed, was not the best route. She could see the tenseness growing in his shoulders, and the fear returning to his eyes tenfold. For once in all her training, she had no idea how to react.
"It will be fine," Demo said quickly," the tone of her voice higher. Was she panicking herself? "There is no need to worry."
That seemed to have the opposite effect. He was starting to breathe harder. He couldn't flee – she'd used what credits she found to gain access to a room for the next few days – but that did not mean he wouldn't move away from her, and prevent her from finishing the work.
Desperate, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Galen. Nothing is going to happen to you."
The effect was instantaneous. The boy's breathing slowed, and his eyes closed as he composed himself.
"Okay."
Demo returned to work, sifting through the wiring she had exposed on the back of the collar. That was how Galen had wound up in front of the small mirror in the room: he wanted to watch her work. However, his eyes remained closed now, his hands balled into little fists.
Using the small blade she'd kept tucked in her boot, Demo quickly cut the wires, not taking a moment to second guess her choices. The training was all there. Her hands knew what to do, and despite the current mess she found herself in, she still trusted them. She had to, or she might very well lose it altogether.
When the last wire snapped, a hissing sound came from the collar, and a click.
Galen was free, and clearly aware as he grasped the collar and all but tore it from his neck, giving Demo little time to grab the thing before he rushed into the middle of the room and yippeed in joy. She let him continue his ridiculous affair, choosing not to berate him for nearly tossing a potentially unstable component, and examined the collar closely.
There was no bomb.
Demo blinked, rechecking her results, but her eyes were not lying to her. What she did find were several half-filled vials of a liquid she did not quite recognize. Whatever it was, it clearly hadn't had a negative impact on the boy.
She glanced at him, still celebrating his newfound freedom, and wondered what it all meant. Elements of his tale were not lining up in her mind, pieces she could only guess at, but guessing went against everything she had been taught. If nothing led her to the conclusion, it was better to leave it be.
And so, she did. She let Galen tire himself out while hiding the collar in one of the drawers of a provided dresser, and decided to leave that part of their journey behind them. Her goal had been to relieve him of the stress, and both of them of the curious looks they received. Mission accomplished.
Demo sat in a small chair tucked in the corner of the room, watching as Galen stared out of the lone window. There wasn't much of a view, but it was slightly more engaging than the place they were in. A lone bed, sparse furniture, tiny refresher and the basest cooking tools shoved onto a tiny shelf on the wall – with no actual means to cook. The walls were chipped, the floors stained, and there were questionable markings all throughout, but Demo had been looking for low profile. Comfort was always the last priority.
Galen did not seem to mind in the least. He gave a contented sigh and flopped on the bed. She watched dust kick up all around his form, and her lip twitched.
"I haven't slept on a bed for a while," the boy said, immediately curling up on the mattress. Demo just barely restrained herself from telling him to leave the sheets alone, given they may need to run at any point. Also, they were clearly filthy. "A wild herd of Blurrgs won't be able to wake me up."
Slavers were a wretched breed, but the First Order utilized their services now and again. They were a more subtle means of collecting new recruits. Though they were often malnourished and in need of medical care, the slaves tended to work the hardest – after all, the First Order provided them with more than they had ever known. Most were not as…exuberant as Galen however.
Demo let the room remain silent, finally allowing herself a chance to think since they first stepped foot on the station. There weren't many options available to them. Stealing a ship would be the most likely avenue to take. The Ring of Kafrene might have been a good place to disappear, but lingering on the first system they came to was a bad idea. They'd have to hop over multiple before she could comfortably say they'd escaped. Even then, there would always be a tug at the back of her mind, a knowledge that someone was looking for her. As it was, she was the largest security breach the First Order had seen, and until their plans were finalized, they would seek her out.
The thought of being the thing that undid years of work did not sit well with her.
None of this did.
She glanced back to Galen, who had fallen utterly still. It seemed he had spent the last of his energy celebrating.
Surely there were safe places to leave a child. Not here, and frankly she didn't know where, but they had to exist. Demo couldn't keep dragging him around. It wasn't safe for either one of them. A few systems came to mind that had more agreeable circumstances, but they were far away, and in dangerous opposition to what the First Order stood for. Though the likelihood of them discovering her origins was small, almost non-existent, she could not take that chance.
Demo sighed and stood up. The boy may have been exhausted but her mind was far too active to even consider sleep.
She stared out the window, watching steam billow through the dull pipework. It was occasionally broken up by a stray speeder, hurtling through the narrow corridors at a reckless pace.
It was growing very apparent to Demo that she could think and plot and calculate all she wanted, but she was out of her depth here. Without orders to rely on, she had her routine, and without her routine, there was nothing. She was adrift, a dead ship in space.
There was still the outpost. She could put the boy on a ship bound for the core. They wouldn't look for him once she turned herself in.
And then this mess could be over. Things could make sense again.
"Did you want to sleep?"
Demo glanced down, catching a single, bleary eye looking up at her.
Galen smiled. "Sorry, I kinda…took over the bed."
"No," Demo replied, shaking her head. "Go to sleep."
"Okay," the boy said with a yawn, rolling over. More dust kicked up.
She returned to the chair, and could feel the cold of the room seeping into her body, the fabric of the undershirt too thin to maintain her temperature, but Demo ignored the sensation. It was a relief from the heat of the crowded hallways.
What was she going to do?
What had she done?
"I never got your name," she heard the boy's tired voice call out.
"You don't need it," Demo replied. Very few officers knew her designation; very few had permission to even interact with her.
"What am I supposed to call you?" he asked, his argumentative side overruling his exhaustion. "I'll make something up if I have to, and you probably won't like it."
She sighed. "DV-7892."
There was a pause.
"Yeah, I won't remember that."
"Demo," she admitted at last. "They call me Demo."
The Finalizer
Unknown Regions
Why didn't I take the shot?
It had been the one question circling Gunner's mind ever since they left Canto Bight. Over and over, the syllables echoed until they lost all meaning. They were no longer words, yet the sensation was still there. He had failed. It was his mission to keep things on track, to ensure that their commander had the backup required in order to accomplish the unit's mission.
But his commander had faltered.
And so had he.
He had known, as Demo stood there on the ship, with the landing platform slowly closing, that she would never open fire on him; he had known that she was aware of the same. She watched him, waiting, knowing that he was under strict orders to execute any and all traitors. They had done it in the past. Recruits they had known for years had been put down without a second thought, because those were their orders. Orders were meant to be obeyed. Those who could not do so were a weakness and liability to the First Order.
She knew he had to kill her, and did not bother hiding.
He knew he had to, and he could not pull the trigger.
Had she calculated that outcome, or was she just as confused as he was?
Why didn't I take the shot?
They'd trained together for years, as pilot and gunner. Perhaps there was some emotional weight to all that training, to all that time spent together, but Gunner knew if he was ordered to execute Seven and Fuse where they stood, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
But not Demo.
Never Demo.
Why didn't I take the shot?
Gunner took a breath, clearing his mind. His emotions were getting the better of him. He needed to stay focused.
He was standing in General Hux's office, quietly waiting by the door as the General argued with Kylo Ren, who had taken it upon himself to know about the outcome of the mission first. The two high-ranked leaders in the First Order had a tendency to compete with one another, complete with every form of pettiness imaginable. The disobedience of a soldier in the General's elite squadron gave Kylo Ren the advantage.
"The Supreme Leader was right not to trust your foolish project with any real responsibility," Ren spat, the mask amplifying the disdain in his voice. "Pirates and smuggler scum can be handled by any low-ranking trooper. One step into the real world and your elite unit crumbled. You put too much faith into these child soldiers."
"Mind your tongue when you speak of too much faith, Ren," Hux replied, glaring at the masked man without worry. "Or shall we discuss who has served the First Order for the least amount of time? Certainly not my troopers."
No one knew who was beneath the mask. Gunner had heard rumors circulate between other troopers during mealtime, but he never questioned those things. Faces didn't matter, only rank, but the General seemed to imply otherwise.
A weapon activated, bright red, buzzing with energy. He'd heard the phrase lightsaber tossed around once or twice.
Gunner acted immediately, leveling his blaster on the back of Kylo Ren's head. The man seemed to know this, spinning around and cutting his blaster in two. His hand reached out, and suddenly Gunner felt himself pulled forward, until his neck was in the clutches of Kylo Ren, the red blade glowing hot beside his skin.
"This is the one who was with the traitor," he said, certain. Gunner could not see his eyes but he knew the man was staring right into his. "Perhaps we should ask him why he let her escape."
"Knight Squadron is under my jurisdiction, Ren. When I need input in regards to finding old, decrepit men, I'll ask for you."
The two stared at one another, waiting, all the while Gunner watched the blade.
Then it disappeared, and he felt Kylo Ren's grip slacken. He fell to the floor, taking a brief moment to breathe freely before standing again. By the time he recovered, Ren was gone.
Hux stormed up to him then, all composure from his interaction with Kylo Ren gone. "I do not care how long it takes you or to what corners of the galaxy, you will find DV-7892, you will bring me the target, and you will bring her in or execute her where she stands."
"Yes, General."
"Leave!"
Holstering his damaged weapon, Gunner fired off a quick salute before departing the room. He began to walk back toward his quarters, where he'd grab Seven and Fuse and take off in search of Demo. There were only so many places she could have gone, and fewer than that would have met her criteria. He knew her, just as well as she knew him, and that would be her downfall.
As he strode down the hallway, Gunner passed Captain Phasma, her chrome armor aggravating his eyesight as it always did. He heard her footsteps pause, her armor clank as she turned around.
"How predictable," she said, disappointed.
He stopped in his tracks, feeling his fists clench and unclench. Gunner could feel her gaze on him, waiting for him to do anything.
And then he continued forward, as his training demanded.
Demo had failed the First Order, but he would not.
Ring of Kafrene
There was a home, drowned in sunlight. A woman and child's laughter chased her through the halls. She watched them dance around a table, until the woman caught the child and lifted her into the air.
A man entered, face warm and kind. He had a limp, but moved without a care when the girl leapt into his arms. He swung her back and forth, smiling as she giggled.
The light faded.
Kaid Dexshi appeared, looking at her in indignation. He wasn't afraid of dying in that moment. In fact, he did not believe she would ever take the shot. He was just…annoyed.
And then she fired.
Demo sat up, her pistol at the ready, pointed in the direction her instincts had deemed dangerous.
Galen was watching her from the bed, not bothered by the fact he was confronted by the weapon again. His face was obscured, darkened by the shadows of the room and the dull, yellow glow from the window behind him.
Lowering the pistol, Demo ran her free hand over her face. She was sweating.
"You were talking in your sleep," he said quietly. "But you were mumbling, so I couldn't make anything out, if that makes you feel better."
It didn't. She hadn't had a nightmare since she was a child, making the sensation wholly unfamiliar to her. Another strange occurrence for an already confusing time. The order and routines of her daily life were slipping away, and it would undoubtedly get worse.
"Are you okay?" Galen asked. The boy was obsessed with that question, with the desire to know how she was doing. It aggravated her. No one asked how the others were doing, not in the way he was. Physical damage, that was all that concerned them, whether or not a trooper could continue the mission. There was nothing else to it; there were no good or bad days, just days. Emotional compromise was not something that happened.
But that was what happened to her, wasn't it?
"I'm fine," was her quick answer. She stood up, stretching, easing the aches that came from falling asleep on the chair. She hadn't realized how tired she actually was. "Go back to sleep."
The boy laid down, but Demo doubted he would fall asleep. There was a certain tone in his voice when he had more questions, and he was never one to shy away from those.
"How did you do all that?" he asked after a while, as Demo stood in the middle of the room debating if she ought to start her exercise routine. "Back in the alley."
"It was how I was trained."
"You were trained to kill?"
"Among other things."
Many other things. Basic knowledge in most things, refined in fewer, enough to ensure a small group of troopers would never need reinforcements for anything as simple as having no specialists attached to the unit. But the most important aspect of all training was the knowledge that she was capable of killing whatever they ordered dead.
"For how long?"
"Since I was younger than you."
She heard Galen sit up in the bed. Demo wasn't certain why she was humoring him. Perhaps the questions kept the dream at bay. For once, the silence she preferred was not her ally.
"And how old are you now?"
That one made her pause. She was aware of the passage of years, and certain dates, but for the most part, these things were unimportant, their existence was of no use to her mission. She was certain a datafile somewhere had the information, but she did not.
"I don't know," she admitted. If she had to guess, somewhere in her thirties.
"How do you not know?" Galen asked loudly, as if that was the most offensive thing she had told him. More confusing than the current state of things was the young boy assaulting her with questions.
"Because it is not important," she replied, walking to the window and finally hitting the panel to close the shades. "Go back to sleep."
She heard his head hit the pillow again.
Out of options, and not wanting the noise to keep Galen awake, Demo returned to the chair. Terrible dreams aside, she would need the sleep. She couldn't be certain what the next day would bring.
She closed her eyes briefly, but something was bothering her.
Demo sighed. "Go ahead."
"Are you a slave?"
"I'm a stormtrooper."
"You're in trouble for leaving, were trained since you were a kid, and you don't even know how old you are."
"And you were in a box with a collar on."
"Yeah, but I have a normal name and know how old I am. Guess that makes you worse than a slave."
She glared at the particular dark spot she knew Galen was occupying, waiting until she heard him shift on the bed, getting comfortable. At least he was learning when his questions were no longer wanted.
Demo closed her eyes again, emptying her mind. Now that she was purposefully attempting to fall asleep, perhaps the dreams would leave her be.
She felt her body relax, the stress leaving her shoulders and jaw. Her breath evened out, slowly, steadily. The small noises of the room began to fade into nothing.
Then her eyes opened.
Something wasn't right.
Intuition was something her unit had been lauded for, perceiving events faster than most stormtroopers. It was one of the reasons they had been singled out for training early on. Knowing someone was around the corner before they made the turn or firing their weapons before they even acknowledged the target were common occurrences in her squadron. But this was something else. An itch in the back of her mind, prompting her to investigate.
She stood once more, leaning against the wall that was shared with the outside hallway, listening. The walls were thin, and she heard footsteps. Multiple. Too many for that particular hour.
"Galen, get under the bed."
"Wh-wha…?"
"Get under the bed, now."
She heard the boy scramble as she leapt on top of the dresser. It sat just beside the doorway, giving her clear view of whomever may enter.
Centering her blaster on the door, she waited.
There was a click, the intruders easily hacking the entry panel. The door hissed, opening slowly, but no one made their way inside.
A small orb rolled across the threshold and into the room.
Without hesitation, Demo dove across the space, flinging the fragmentation grenade back through the threshold before rolling into the refresher. She briefly heard the intruders shout in surprise before the explosion went off, ripping small holes through the wall.
Demo leaned against the doorway, watching the entry, waiting for them to continue.
The window exploded.
Her arm instinctively shot up, defending her face from the shards of glass that shot in her direction. Before she could recover, a hand was around her throat, lifting her from the ground effortlessly. Her attacker, a large hylobon, snarled as she clamored for breath, hands grasping its thick wrists. Its breath was rank, mouth slobbering, left eye scarred and sightless, appearing more like some rabid creature than a criminal lackey.
They were one and the same as far as the First Order was concerned.
Demo did not give him the benefit of an easy time. Her legs came up, kicking in rapid succession, until she was stable enough to recover the knife tucked in her boot. With a quick swing, she stabbed her attacker's wrist, the freedom of her neck accompanied by its howl.
She dropped to the ground, quickly shooting forward and ramming her shoulder into the hylobon's abdomen. It answered in kind, driving both fists into her back and slamming her onto the ground.
As it tried to pick her up again, Demo gripped her knife and surged upright, slashing through the hylobon's gut and spilling its bluish blood all over the tile. Its howl turned into a scream as she turned away, grabbing her blaster pistol before shooting its chest to silence it.
Demo rounded the corner. She was tired of fighting defensively.
A lone human entered the room, blaster drawn, but she fired on him before he had the chance to take advantage of the situation.
She ran, leaping at the threshold and pushing off of it into the closest intruder in the hall outside, punching the zabrak in the temple with her blaster.
Immediately, she turned, walking toward the human behind her as she opened fire with her pistol. She grabbed his body as he fell, holding it against her as a twi'lek attempted to fire upon her. Shouting in some other language, the female attacker jumped behind the corner of the hall before Demo could shoot her.
The world went white, and sound was reduced to a high, eerie pitch.
A flash bomb had gone off, disorienting her. She felt a form tackle her to the ground, and fought to block them with what little she could manage in her state. It must have been the zabrak, the same one from the attack earlier that day. She ought to have known better. Without backup, she was exposed, but she had gotten angry and discarded the safety of the apartment in that anger.
Her hearing came back, though it began to ring again as the zabrak's fist made contact with the side of her face. Demo shoved her hand into her attacker's face, attempting to claw his eyes, but he was just as angry as she, and determined to fight through the pain.
"No!" came a cry to her left.
Suddenly, the zabrak was gone, tumbling down the corridor as if something large had pushed him off of her.
Demo turned, seeing only Galen standing in the middle of the hallway, his hand outstretched.
She didn't have time to question what had just happened, leaping up from the ground despite the pain. She grabbed her pistol, and then the boy, pushing him behind her as she fired at the twi'lek, who had gotten bold and stumbled out of hiding. The bolt caught her in the neck, and she fell.
Twisting around, and turning Galen with her, Demo fired another round into the zabrak's chest, killing him before he had the chance to stand again.
Demo waited for another attacker to show their face, but the hall had grown quiet and still. They were alone.
She whirled on the boy. "That is why we don't let anyone go!"
Galen jumped back, surprised by the anger in her voice. She felt a small tug in her chest at that, but ignored it, stepping back into the apartment. Trudging over the body of the hylobon, Demo peered into the mirror. There was a nasty cut above her eyebrow that would bleed for some time and her left eye was threatening to swell shut, but she could deal with that. Her body had been through worse.
Demo wiped her face on a questionably clean towel and returned to the hall, where Galen still stood, watching the body of the zabrak.
"We need to go," she mumbled, walking past him. She did not bother to check if he was following; she could hear his footsteps behind her.
They walked past several doors, a few of which opened slightly, the residents unable to resist their curiosity. Demo did not look at any of them, her eyes focused on the turbolift. She stepped inside, Galen at her side, and slammed her palm on one of the buttons.
As the lift moved, slower than any she had encountered before, Demo stared at the misshapen reflection of her face in the doorway.
Galen was quiet. She could see his reflection looking down at his feet, distant, somber.
"Have you always been able to do that?" she asked after a while. "Move things without touching them?"
The boy shrugged, then nodded.
"Is that why they put a collar on you?"
He nodded again.
She supposed it made sense that he would not tell her about such abilities, after all, they hardly knew one another. Something like that, it was rare, valuable. She'd heard of others being able to do it, enemies of the Empire before it fell, beings such as Luke Skywalker.
And then there was the Supreme Leader and his apprentice, Kylo Ren.
She could still feel the unnatural sensation of being lifted, her entire body losing control; she'd never felt so helpless in her life before.
This boy beside her could potentially do the same.
The lift opened and Demo stepped out with Galen on her heels. They left the building and wandered Kafrene, with nowhere in particular to go. She just wanted to be as far away as possible before whatever form of authority the base had arrived.
Even in the dead of night, there was foot traffic, though not as much as earlier. She stuck to the crowds for a time, before returning to the abandoned alleyways that made her chest constrict less. Less eyes on her face, less suspicion.
"They came to destroy my village," Galen said after a while. Demo stopped, looking down at him, though he refused to look at her. "We weren't really slaves, not anymore. A lot of us had escaped and made a living on our own. The masters didn't like that, said they needed to make an example of us. I tried to stop them. I even…killed one of them. That's why they took me to Zel Di."
"You said you wanted to go home," Demo said softly. Even she knew she had to tread carefully here.
The boy shrugged. "I guess I don't have one anymore."
Demo paused, watching the boy. He was shaken, from the conflict, but she wondered if perhaps what he did also stuck with him. Killing someone for the first time stays with a person – even she could vividly remember her first kill: a fellow recruit during a training accident – but she had been trained to deal with these things. Galen clearly had not, and had proven that he had an interest in keeping people alive. If his abilities were what killed his assailants, using them again probably did not sit well with him.
And he wouldn't have had to use them if she had just been patient.
Had she still been in command of Knight Squadron, she'd have marked herself down for assessment, and given herself remedial training for such a foolish mistake.
Demo sighed. "We need to keep moving."
She made it about ten steps before she realized he wasn't moving. Her head was throbbing, her vision blurring, and there were undoubtedly people out there looking for answers and vengeance, but she could not bring herself to shout at him.
Returning to his side, Demo offered her hand. "C'mon, Galen."
Galen looked up at her, confused, but she could see a little light returning to his eyes. His lips twitched, an attempted smile, as he took her hand and they began to walk down the alley.
D'Qar
The sight of a dozen or so pilots standing uselessly on the flight line was not unusual as of late. They'd been called to be ready for missions several times over the past month, only for them to be scrubbed before any of the pilots had a chance to jump in their ships.
For a while, there had been a moment of relief. They'd all had enough encounters with stray First Order units to understand that the enemy far outnumbered them, and any skirmishes they got into would undoubtedly lead to some form of retreat. And yet, as the cancelations continued, many found themselves only growing frustrated. If this was a war, it sure didn't feel like one. They had signed up to fight the enemy, not twiddle their thumbs on stand-by. Most of them could have remained at their navy outposts for that, and have been paid for it.
Poe Dameron was torn on the matter. The pilot side of him was just as frustrated as the rest of his companions, but the commander side knew that there were good reasons behind every grounding. Time and time again, Leia had hammered into him the notion that it was better to be bored than dead in space because trigger-happy officers decided to ignore the intel. They needed to be patient. The First Order had been for years, since the fall of the Empire if the reports were to be believed. Without the help of the New Republic, the Resistance could do little more than gather intelligence and make occasional sorties.
Seemed silly to him that the Resistance even existed if it still needed help from the very institution it broke off from, but Poe didn't press the matter. He knew better than most the consequences of arguing with Leia Organa. If the senator side didn't beat you, the exasperated mother would.
He couldn't help but smile at that.
"Hey, now, no smiling here," Snap Wexley chastised. The pilot was leaning against a crate next to Karé Kun, as usual. "We're supposed to be pouting about our assignment, remember?"
"Yes, because our combined tantrum efforts will surely be rewarded with a super serious mission," Jessika Pava joked from behind Poe. He was leaning on the ladder to her X-Wing as Jessika had taken to examining some scorching on the undercarriage that she swore up and down was not there before. "Snap, the General is used to dealing with spoiled brats in the Senate. She's not going to budge an inch."
Snap shrugged. "Well, then I'm out of ideas."
"So, the usual then?" L'ulo L'ampar replied, grabbing the pilot by the shoulder. The duros laughed as Snap shrugged him off, much to the entertainment of Karé. "Take it from an old veteran, Snap. There's no need to rush into anything. The General knows what she's doing, and we need to trust her."
Poe nodded. "He's right. None of us would be here without her."
Still, he couldn't help but feel his words were hollow. The looks on the faces of his fellow pilots said the same.
He was trying, he really was, but sometimes Poe just wanted to be that pilot who disobeyed orders and ran headlong into a scrap with three star destroyers.
Well, maybe not that exact scenario, but going with his gut had gotten him into the Resistance. At some point, it had to do something of worth.
"The best thing we can do right now is stay busy and be ready," Poe continued, attempting to convince himself as well as the others. "And keep Jessika from treating her ship like she does droids."
The Great Destroyer, as the droids had nicknamed her, stuck her tongue out at Poe. "The instant I find the kriff for brains who's been messing with my ship, I'm going to have a great outlet for all my pent-up frustration."
"No need to take out all that anger on yourself, Jessika," Karé teased. "We're all here to help you become a better pilot."
The group had a hearty chuckle over that. Poe took it as an opportunity to head back into the base, but quickly realized he was not alone.
A head taller than him, L'ulo was hard to miss, especially when he wanted you to notice.
"You here to give me advice?" Poe asked, walking down the landing strip. He spied BB-8 assisting one of the mechanics with his T-70, recalling the little droid mentioning something about a discharge issue. If he didn't know better, Poe thought his friend was making it up in order to find something to do.
"If that's what you need," the duros replied. He'd been like an uncle to Poe for years, having served with his mother during the Rebellion. He knew better than any of them what awaited the Resistance, and always kept a calm demeanor to counter their frustration. He should have been the one in charge of Black Squadron, even if Poe had been the one to recruit him. "Being a commander doesn't mean you have to handle the burden alone, Poe. You've never been shy about your opinions before."
They entered the underground bunker, the cool air that washed over them smelling of dirt and mildew. It wasn't the classiest base to stage a Resistance in, but it got the job done. Hell, it was even starting to grow on him.
"Those opinions didn't affect the overall mission," Poe countered, leaning against a nearby wall. He watched the tech officers flit back and forth between screens of data, inputting various intel into their systems. It didn't make any sense to him, but he knew half the battle wasn't fought in space or in the field, it was down here. "Leaders aren't supposed to make their subordinates feel worse about things. We're supposed to keep things running smoothly."
L'ulo smiled softly, like a parent looking at their child. "Hard to do that when everyone can read the look on your face."
Poe blinked and sighed. "That bad, huh?"
"Worse."
Shaking his head, Poe looked away a moment. Sometimes he wondered what the General saw in him, why she decided to let him lead Black Squadron. Most admitted that they believed she was grooming him for something greater, but that didn't sound right for him. Caring about the lives of four people was more than enough. He didn't think he could handle the pressure Leia had on her shoulders every day, much less with the grace she had.
L'ulo rested a hand on his shoulder. "When I was your age, I'd already seen an empire fall, along with more comrades than I can count. I know I'm repeating myself, but you'll be in the thick of it soon enough, and then you'll wish you were back here."
"It's not that I have a problem with. I've seen what they have out there. We all have," Poe countered. "If we keep giving the First Order more time, how much more are they going to throw at us?"
His friend had nothing to say at that. It was a worry he had too.
The silence of the moment was interrupted when Lieutenant Connix ran up to them, braids bouncing and a datapad in hand. She was always typing something out, always busier than everyone around her, it seemed; she had her hands in both operations and communications, and was more or less an acting secretary to the General. If anyone knew what was going on in the Resistance, it was her.
"Excellent timing, Commander," she said, barely looking up from the datapad. "General Organa is looking for you."
"Does she always know when I enter the base?" Poe asked, teasing.
"She's a jedi, Poe," L'ulo said. "They do that."
"We actually issue an alert to everyone inside," Connix said, deadpan. "Means hide all your breakable tech."
Poe rolled his eyes, following Connix as she made a quick exit. "It was one datapad!"
"Before we go further, Poe, I want you to know that you are under no obligation to accept this mission."
That was how the General greeted him as he entered her office. No 'hellos' or 'sit downs' or 'if you say anything about the scrubbed mission, I'm permanently grounding yous.' There was a very serious tone in her voice, different from the usual way she spoke. He knew her well enough at this point. She had something important and, apparently, dangerous.
He suddenly felt heavier as he sat across from her.
"What is it, General?" he asked, just as serious. Poe could be a hot-headed pilot, he was the first to admit it, but he knew when to put all that aside. Sometimes, things just called for him to shut up and listen.
Leia regarded him, and for a moment, Poe thought she might change her mind. But she shook her head, rejecting any misgivings, and continued.
"Have you heard of Canto Bight?"
"Sleezy casino planet, right? Where a bunch of rich moof milkers rub elbows and…" Poe caught Leia's gaze and stumbled. Right, she had been a princess at some point. "I mean, unless you went there, General, then it must not be as bad as it sounds."
She smiled warmly. "Once or twice, not by choice. Your description isn't wrong."
Reaching up, Leia struck a few keys, activating a hologram of a uniformed man.
"Two days ago, Senator Kaid Dexshi's assistant was found dead on one of the beaches. The senator himself and his ship were nowhere to be found."
Poe leaned forward, studying the image. "I take it he has First Order ties?"
"And then some. Unsubstantiated, of course."
Of course. Nothing ever stuck. It was why they were housed in an underground bunker rather than leading the New Republic's navies into the Unknown Regions to find their enemy.
"Then the other night, Threepio got a report of unusual activity on the Ring of Kafrene. Normally, all activity there is unusual. It's a haven for criminals and traffickers nowadays, but security footage shows a woman who was also at Canto Bight the day the senator disappeared, and in his company no less."
He perked up at that. "A First Order operative?"
"Potentially. All evidence suggests that she was an armed escort, and Senator Dexshi usually employed droids."
Poe leaned back, almost overwhelmed by the potential that was before him. They'd never had a break like this. A traitor from the First Order could supply them with the knowledge to turn everything around, give the Resistance the advantage it needed, maybe even get the Senate to finally side with them.
It was almost too good to be true.
His gaze turned back to Leia, and he knew she thought the same.
"Now you know why I warned you," she said with a shrug, standing to pace. Her office was the only room on the base that wasn't covered in some form of flora or dirt. They'd covered the entire room in durasteel, making it feel like a ship rather than an underground bunker. "We can't send in a large force. It would not only panic them but would tip the First Order off to their location. This is a solo mission, Poe, and backup will be a long way out."
Poe knew that he should be hesitant about the mission. It seemed too small scale to be a trap, but it was dangerous nonetheless. He knew he should be worried about all the factors, most of all how he would even be able to track down the target, but he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at it all. This was the something he had been waiting for, and his gut was screaming at him to take this opportunity before it disappeared.
"I'm in," he said firmly, standing. "I'll do the mission."
She almost looked disappointed.
"You've got two hours to get ready, Commander. Report back here when you're ready."
"Yes, General," Poe replied, turning away. He almost said he was ready now, but knew better than that. There were people he needed to see to, and last-minute items that needed to be completed.
When the door opened, he paused, hit by a sudden need to ask something.
"Why me, General?" he asked. They had operatives who were better at this sort of thing, and were undoubtedly closer to the base than he was.
At that, she smiled again. "You've got an infectious personality, Poe. It grabs people by the throat and forces them to like you. We need this person to trust us."
"That was the most insulting compliment I have ever received, General."
"Not likely."
She always could call his bluff.
Within an hour, he was airborne, Black Squadron and Leia watching his ship disappear into the atmosphere. He didn't know what he was getting himself into, but for the first time in a while, he had hope.
Thanks for reading! Sorry I haven't said more, but it's late and I want to go to bed. Until next time!
