Unfamiliar voices speaking in hushed tones alerted Rey to the fact that she was awake—that and a hot, throbbing pain which seemed to cover the entire left side of her face. She tried opening her eyes and was surprised to find that only one of them worked. She could see the purple-haired Theelin girl from before in profile. She was far less blurry than Rey remembered.
Rey opened her mouth to speak. The action cause pain to shoot down her jaw, so that only a strange sort of strangled moan came out. It caught the girl's attention though.
"You're awake," she noted.
"Owww. Yes," Rey agreed.
"Your face looks… pretty bad."
"It certainly feels bad," Rey murmured. In an attempt to gauge the damage, she lightly prodded the swollen mass around her closed eye, and gasped at the resulting pang that shot through her skull.
"Well, don't touch it, you'll make it worse!" The girl insisted.
"What happened?"
"You gave a slaver lip and he gave you the butt end of his gun—you definitely came out behind in that deal. Then you were washed and dressed and after that, they threw us in here."
"Here… where's here?"
Rey blinked her good eye a few times and turned her head so that the swollen side of her face lay against the cold floor. The cell was dimly lit, but she could sense that they were not alone. In fact, she could sense many things… fear… uncertainty… anxiety bordering on panic… feelings that came from all around her. It was uncomfortable, but at least her abilities had returned. Her head was far clearer than before.
"Doesn't matter," she mumbled, answering herself as she sat up. Her head spun and throbbed in response.
The new cell was larger than the last, and had several more occupants. Iron rings set into the floor served as tethering points for the chains that hung from their neck collars. Most of these slaves sat or hunched dejectedly in small groups around their rings. She counted at least two dozen and among those a few she recognized from the transporter. The Theelin girl—whose name Rey felt like she should know— and the young man who had earlier identified himself as a Bimm, were chained to the same hold as herself.
"How long was I out?" she asked, trying to feel around the point where the chain and her neck collar met.
"Who can say? The time it took for them to bathe and dress you and then however long we've been in here. Maybe hours, maybe days," the girl shrugged.
"Definitely not days," the young man countered. "My bladder wouldn't allow for that. I'd guess four hours at most."
Rey nodded and tugged at the chain. Solid, of course. She stood, testing the limit of her captivity and found that she could move only a few steps.
"Sit down!" the Theelin girl hissed nervously.
Rey glanced around. Her movements had attracted the attention of the other slaves, who now watched her nervously. There was only one door to the cell and she was about 12 paces from it—granted that was about 10 more paces then she was currently able to take, but having been held in far more confining accommodations, definitely not insurmountable. She crouched down again, closer to the young man.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Albion. Albion Bard, and you're Rey, or so Talya says," he nodded towards the purple-haired girl.
"Albion… is there a guard posted outside that door?"
"I'm not certain, but I don't think so. I've heard footsteps coming from the corridor three times so far. The first time was when they brought you in. The second time, they stopped outside the door and then carried on. The third time, the same thing, stopped just outside the door for a moment. I didn't hear any words exchanged, so if I had to guess, I'd say there's maybe one or two of them that round between the cells every so often."
Rey nodded.
"They'll have to bring in food or water at some point," she mumbled.
"Well, one can hope I suppose," Albion shrugged. "Though I'm not holding my breath. From what I overheard, this barge is supposed to rendezvous with another Karazak Guild ship before arriving at a slaver's market on Lothal. It isn't a long trip, so I very much doubt they'll shoulder the expense of feeding all their cargo and-"
"You must've heard wrong," Rey cut him off. "These men are gathering slaves to fill a contract with the Knights of Ren."
Talya scoffed and shook her head.
"The Knights of Ren, is it? Now I've heard everything!"
"It's true. I heard the man with the eye patch say it," Rey said simply.
"Not likely!" Talya snapped. "The Knights PROTECT the weak and the disadvantaged. They've come to our aid twice on Ka'vec, and I've heard stories of their deeds from travelers coming from all over the galaxy. Buying slaves indeed! You must still have the spice in your system!"
"No, she's telling the truth. I heard the captain mention the Knights as well," Albion confirmed. "Though my impression is that there was no definite agreement—they weren't sure what type of slaves these Knights were looking for, and if they had an agreement, they would likely know all the particulars. I would guess that they're hoping to meet up with these buyers on Lothal—because, I'm quite certain, that's where we're headed. I heard a crewman complaining about it on board the transporter."
"The Captain said Bimm's aren't good fighters. You seem to be very good at gathering intel," Rey said, offering him a half-smile.
"We're storytellers, mostly," he agreed. "If you hope to be any good at telling stories, you have to be a good listener first."
Rey nodded, and glanced around again. With no guards, no weapon, and no way of obtaining one at present, it seemed the only thing she could do, was wait. Besides, if she were to free herself, what about the others? She couldn't risk freeing all of them—the ship would never make it to Lothal and she would miss her chance at the Knights of Ren. Comforted, that for the moment, she was exactly where she out to be, Rey again sat down.
"Tell us a story then," Talya demanded, rapping her knuckles on the floor to get Albion's attention. "We've nothing to do but sit, so tell us a story to help pass the time."
"Alright," Albion agreed. "Which story will it be then? Ah! I know! The tale of Oola the slave girl's last dance—"
"Kriff, no!" Talya growled. "That's the last story I want to hear, dressed like a dancing girl, probably on my way to some ugly Hutt's palace! Pick another."
"Very well, the tale of the how Luke Skywalker destroyed the death st-"
"NO!" Rey interrupted. "Not that one."
"Tough crowd," Albion sighed and closed his eyes, thinking. "I've got it! It's an old story not much told these days… the tragic death of Cress Thul."
"Well there you've already gone and given the end away in the title," Talya taunted.
Albion scowled which almost made Rey smile—almost.
"It's a beautiful story about love and loss and… and…" As Albion's voice trailed off, he cocked his head to the side, listening. Rey knew better than to ask what it was. She held a silencing hand up to Talya and turned towards the door.
She heard nothing at first—but it occurred to her that perhaps the Bimms were such good listeners not due to patience, but because their hearing was exceptionally well-developed, so she waited. Not a minute went by before she heard it—the sound of a blaster being fired, and not long after, came distant shouts.
"What is it?!" Talya whispered.
"Escaped slaves?" Rey guessed.
"Maybe," Albion said, though his expression suggested that he did not think so.
More shouts and then the sound of many feet running through the corridor, blaster fire, chains rattling, and then someone was at the door of their cell.
"Oh, no! No, no, no!" Talya cried, backing away as far as her chain would allow. "Don't let them come in here, don't let them—"
The door burst open, and two wild-eyed, young men stumbled over one another entering the room.
"If you value your freedom, stand up now! Stand and fight for it!" the first one shouted.
No one moved. The prisoners remained sitting on the floor, staring up at the newcomers- some with their mouths hanging open, others with expressions of obvious mistrust.
"Maybe they don't understand," the second one decided. "Here, look!"
He grabbed the shoulder of the scrawny, red-skinned man sitting closed to him, and hauled him to his feet. Quickly, he lowered his blaster and shot through the chain, freeing the slave.
The prisoners gasped when the blaster went off. The newly freed slave glanced between his neighbors and his rescuers as though trying to decide which of the two presented less of a risk.
"See?" the first would-be hero announced. "He's free!"
This would not do! She had no idea who these men were or what they planned to do with the prisoners, but it was likely enough that they would no longer be heading for the slave market on Lothal, which was currently the only chance she had to find the Knights of Ren. Though it occurred to her that it was very wrong to foil the other prisoners chance at freedom, she pushed this thought down with the vague reassurance that she would probably figure out a way to free them herself once they had reached Lothal.
"Free to do what?" she asked. "Are you trying to take over the ship?"
"No, we're… we're with the Resistance," the First announced.
"We don't have time for this!" the second interrupted. "We've got to go!"
"So you want to free us so that we can do… what, exactly?"
"Escape! Don't you want to escape?"
"To where, exactly?" Rey frowned.
"Isn't any place better than here?" the second demanded.
"Not necessarily," Albion remarked.
"We're with the Resistance!" the first announced, as though this should clear everything up.
Rey groaned.
"So what you want us to do—just so that I understand—is run through this ship, completely unarmed, while the slavers chase after us, likely shooting at us, to get to a ship that you have standing by, which will then have to take off from a secure bay, and then flee, likely under heavy fire from this barge's cannons so that we can— go where, exactly?" Rey asked politely.
Beside her, Albion chuckled.
"Join… the Resistance?" the first answered, though his voice sounded somewhat uncertain.
"Thanks, I think I'll take my chances with the slavers," Talya scoffed.
The first Resistance fight snorted and then began to shout encouragement of the sort Rey had heard before, 'fight for yourselves', 'stand up to the oppressors', and so on and so forth. Albion leaned towards her and dropped his voice.
"Does it seem strange that it's so quiet to you?" he asked.
Rey thought about it. Before the Resistance fighters had entered, they had heard the sounds of what sounded like a struggle. If the fighters had managed to land their ship and then overcome the crewmen that patrolled the outer corridor, then it seemed likely that they would quickly be discovered, and that the other slavers would be coming after them. Yet the outer corridor was silent. Stranger still, the two fighters did not appear to her to exude either the fear or adrenaline one would expect in such a situation.
Almost as if in answer to her thoughts, running footsteps echoed loudly in the outer hall, there was someone—no, more than just one person running towards the cell. She looked again to the Resistance fighters. Surely they heard this as well, but neither turned or raised their guns.
Poe Dameron raced into the room, blaster in hand.
"Come on, COME ON!" he urged, seizing the prisoner nearest to him and blasting through his chain. "What is the hold up? We've got seven minutes left!"
He straightened up reaching for the next prisoner and glancing up his eyes met hers. Rey stifled a curse word.
"Rey!" he yelled, his eyes lightening up and then, sweeping across her body growing wide in surprise. He grinned. "Nice costume!"
"Poe this isn't what you—"she began, but he had already ran across the room and hauled her to her feet.
With one arm wrapped securely around her back, he raised the other and shot through her chain. It happened faster than she could protest, and just as the words came to her mouth, she made eye contact with Albion who was watching her very closely.
"What are you doing here?" Poe demanded, signaling to the other two fighters that they should commence freeing the prisoners.
Around them, the other slaves were beginning to move nervously, some, getting to their feet already. The Resistance was about to ruin everything.
"You don't understand!" she hissed into Poe's ear. "I'm undercover as a slave, I'm trying to get ta a market on Lothal. Master Luke knows, you have to leave me here!"
Poe's expression was confused.
"There's far better ways to do that, you know. The Resistance has allies there. We could fly you in and- look at your face! Did they beat you?" he was leading her towards the door. Rey planted her feet.
"No, I can't, you don't understand! I can't go back to the Resistance, I can't! Kylo Ren can find me and if you does than you'll all die. You don't—"
"I know," he agreed calmly.
"You… you know?" Rey asked, uncertain.
"Yeah," he glanced down sheepishly. "Luke figured it out after what happened on Crait. We divided our resources after that. General Organa took a few volunteers to Hoth as a decoy, and Master Luke worked on building up our forces at… another location. Hoth was a trap. Once the First Order showed up, we blew the base and took out about two battalion of—"
"You knew the whole time?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"I did," he agreed. "I volunteered to go with the General to Hoth. I didn't like it, lying to you, I mean, but Luke said that if you knew, you'd run in order to protect the Resistance, and I…" he stopped, his head cocking to the side as if a thought had occurred to him. "That's what you're doing, isn't it? You found out and you ran."
"No. I'm on a mission."
"Then I'll help you."
"No."
"I'm not asking, I'm telling you," Poe scowled.
Rey was about to argue, but glancing around at the other prisoners, her guilt resurfaced. If they had a shot to escape, it would be beyond wrong to prevent that merely to further he own ends, especially if Poe agreed that she could still go to Lothal.
Newly freed, Talya and Albion came to stand beside her.
"Alright, fine, but I have to get my lightsaber back, one of the guards took it from me when I was—"
"We have to go, and we have to go now!" Poe interrupted. "We have four minutes before the bay door closes."
One arm still around her, he led them into the corridor, glancing both ways and raising his blaster as though expecting an attack, the other fighters had almost finished freeing the other prisoners.
"Come on!" he ordered and broke into a jog, dragging her along with him.
They passed other cells doors as they went, which Rey could feel contained other prisoners.
"What about the rest of them?" she asked.
"There isn't time!" Poe insisted.
A few minutes later, the group entered the docking bay where the Resistance transporter waited. They had not seen one single crewmember between their cell and the waiting ship, and the sense of something being very off had only grown stronger.
"Where is everyone?" Rey wondered. "Shouldn't someone be trying to stop us?"
"Let's not look at stars while the city's burning!" Poe insisted dragging her towards the transporter ramp.
Rey glanced around again at the empty dock.
Poe led the group on board, dropping her into the nearest seat before heading back to the ramp.
"Where are you going?" Rey demanded, jumping to her feet.
"Stay here! I'll be RIGHT back!" Poe insisted, racing down the entry ramp.
She would have followed him, but Albion and Talya, both nervous, and uncertain, had remained close to her side, and she feared they would follow her.
"Does this rescue seem strange to you?" Albion asked.
"A little," Rey agreed.
"Like, shouldn't someone be trying to stop us?" he prodded.
"One would think so."
"I'll bet you we're traded a flame for a fire," Talya growled. "Mark me, the minute we're off this ship, they'll tell us we're now their prisoners."
Rey watched the ramp intently as the rest of the prisoners hurried up it and found seats. The two fighters came on board last—one of them racing towards the front of the ship, while the other positioned himself at the ramp watching, gun in hand.
"Two minutes!" Someone called from the front of the ship.
Rey turned her head, but couldn't discern who the speaker was through the crowd of slaves moving to find seats.
The man guarding the ramp fidgeted nervously craning his neck as if trying to see around something out on the dock.
She counted the seconds down in her head. Where had Poe gone?
"One minute!" someone shouted.
The man at the ramp, placed one hand on the switch which raised the ramp, the other kept his blaster firmly pointed out at the dock.
"Come on, Poe," she murmured under her breath.
"Thirty seconds!"
The fighter hit the ramp switch, and the door slowly began to raise, Rey hurried towards him, Talya and Albion trailing behind her.
"You have to wait!" she insisted, Poe's still out there!"
"I can't!" he insisted, "The bay doors open in approximately 21 seconds. We have a window of about 30 seconds after that to get out of here. He knows that."
"You have to wait!" she insisted.
"10 seconds!"
Rey clenched her fist. She had already made up her mind. In her head she saw the look of surprise on the fighter's face as she clocked him and threw the switch to lower the ramp. Would they shoot at her? She hauled back and—
"HERE!" Poe yelled. He jumped, landing on the ramp as it raised and slid down the incline. With a final jump he landed just beside her. The ramp slammed into place, sealing them in.
"Seats, everyone, buckle up!" the fighter yelled, running for the front of the ship.
"Come on," Poe said, grabbing her wrist and dragging her after him.
She made eye contact with Albion and gave him a slight shake of her head, staring pointedly at the seat she had recently vacated. He understood, though he frowned as he and Talya sat down.
Poe brought her to the cockpit where several more Resistance members she didn't recognize were already seated. He pointed at a jump seat secured to the wall and then went to stand behind the pilot. Through the window she could see the bay doors of the dock opening. The ship engines hummed to life.
As the transporter lifted into the air, Poe came back and crouched down next to her, grinning again as he glanced her up and down.
"We're supposed to head back to base, but I've changed our flight plan to rendezvous with one of our carriers just inside the Calamari Sector. We can take my ship from there," he assured her.
She nodded.
"Aren't you going to ask me where I ran off to just now?" he prodded.
She glanced at him curiously. With a flourish he pulled her light saber hilt from his coat and presented it to her. She took it, but the thought occurred to her that all things considered, he had found it rather quickly.
"You're welcome," he said, "Don't worry, once we reach the ship we can get our hands on some bacta, your face looks like—"
"The less time I spend with the Resistance, the better," she reminded him.
His expression became grim.
"You're upset with me," he decided. "Because of Hoth."
"No, I understand about Hoth," she said, noting the relative calm of the pilot as he steered the ship free of the slaver's cargo barge. "I'd like to know why you're still lying to me and to all of the slaves you just freed."
"I don't understand what you—"
"Don't!" she warned him.
He drew a deep breath and lowered his voice.
"We have a deal with the captain of this barge," he said quickly.
"What deal?"
"He wants an alliance with us, but he doesn't want it to be known—he's not looking for trouble from the First Order. We need people, fighters. So he allowed us to 'free' some of his cargo. We had 15 minutes to land, make it to the cell he left unguarded and take off. The deal is that he keeps his men clear and allows us a clean entrance and exit and—"
"And the slaves you 'rescued' are so grateful that they willingly decided to join the ranks of the Resistance, I see," she nodded. "Because the Resistance, after all, would never use slave fighters."
"They don't HAVE to join us, we won't force them."
"But you'll trick them into thinking you saved them."
"We did save them… technically."
"And what does the captain… this slaver guild captain… get in return for providing you with willing recruits?" she demanded.
"We share a common enemy. The First Order has been boarding ships at random, forcing them to pay huge amounts for permits, and spacing their cargo when they can't."
"Right. So you take down the First Order and then business for them returns to normal, and they can go back to slave trading unharrassed. I see."
"The First Order is SPACING their cargo, Rey. Don't you understand what I mean by that? If they can't pay for the permits, all the slaves are literally dumped into space," he said slowly. "There is a ranking of evils that we can endure. Destroying entire planets—systems even, spacing hundreds of living beings at once—that ranks higher for most of us than slavery does."
"Sure, so we'll take slavers as allies, and gangsters, like the Hutts," she muttered.
"For now we'll take everyone we can get, after we destroy the First Order—"
"This has already happened before though, hasn't it? When the Rebels destroyed the empire they had to use some allies they weren't proud of, and then the New Republic was put in the position of having to look the other way when it came to what happened in the Outer Rim Territories—Kriff, the New Republic looked the other way when it came to Mid Rim planets most of the time, I lived on one."
Poe nodded.
"I think you're missing the big picture here," he whispered.
"No. I think I'm really the only one who can see the big picture… it's a lot bigger than you think it is and I—"she stopped. Maybe she wasn't the only one who could see it. Maybe that's what Kylo had meant when he had hinted that she didn't really understand the Resistance.
Ridiculous! Perhaps he could see how the Resistance was already setting itself up to fail in the future, but it didn't mean that he was any better. If the First Order was spacing slaves, then they likely did so on his orders. Poe was right. There was a ranking of evils and Kylo Ren was higher on that ranking than the Resistance. Maybe that was all she could really do- find the lowest ranking evil and align herself with it.
"Your allies tricked you," she said and sighed. "They've got cell after cell full of strong slaves that they plan to take to Lothal and sell as fighters. They separated us out and grouped who they thought were the weakest together. They let you take the leftovers— dancers, storytellers, interpreters... you saw what happened back there. You could barely convince them to fight for themselves. Good luck getting them to fight for you."
"Sneaky," he agreed. "But I can't say it was a bad deal. We got you back, didn't we?" he chuckled. When she glanced towards him, she saw that though he laughed, he was watching her the way he always had on Hoth- with a sort of nervous hopefulness and behind that something else. Something she would not encourage.
"Just get me to Lothal," she said.
