I do not own Star Wars. If I did, different people would be doing the scripts for the films.

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Beta read by the wonderful lincoln time, Jeda31, MasterPrince713. I could not have done it without you guys!

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Guest Review answers :-D

DBZfan45

LOL no way I am letting this story die given how much I have planned out and itching to share! ;-D Just been busy with real life and my other stories.

Here is the latest chapter, and I hope it was worth it! Looking forward to hearing your newest thoughts! :-D Thank you for your review and support! :-D

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Zero

In the case of Kylo, no, he does not know. And he is currently riding the power high of the Dark Side which helps those doing so overlook how much it ruins the rest of their life. I generally compare the Dark Side to a drug, in that the more you use it, the worse the addiction, the worse the harm done to you, the worse it destroys your relationships, etcetera.

In the case of Luke and Leia, they have a fairly good idea, or can at least infer the broad strokes. Properly conveying it to Ben Solo was something they failed at though, and Vader unfortunately remains a looming figure in their lives given how much he impacted them, and even now people still insist on bringing it up. One of the things which ended Leia's official political career was being held accountable for Vader's sins after all . . . That said, I daresay the twins would agree with you in wishing people would stop bringing him up :-P

Here is the latest chapter, and I hope it was worth it! Looking forward to hearing your newest thoughts! :-D Thank you for your review and support! :-D

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Star Wars: Legends Never Die

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Chapter 12: Tension and Loss

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Previously:

The scattered remnants of the Republic Fleet continue to grow and plan. Morale takes a significant boost with the arrival of Senator Jacen Syndulla of Lothal, who is recognized by Admiral Stazi and the rest as the Interim Chancellor.

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"Okay, people, the party'll be here any minute," said Commander Poe Dameron, feeling eager and ready within the cockpit of his X-Wing, a starscape before him. "Let's show them what we're made of."

Down below was a planet with a Resistance Base, hurrying to get everyone aboard the transports. He and his people's mission was to make sure they got away, and thanks to their briefing, they knew company was coming.

"Planetary evacuation is still underway," reported Jessika 'Jess' Pava, the lieutenant acting as his current number two. "At least a few more minutes."

The reminder made him scowl at the thought of how Snap and Karé were grounded after destroying Starkiller Base, and under investigation. Meanwhile, the rest of them had been frozen out of the high-and-mighty, important planning meetings for the fleet despite what they had accomplished before with the Resistance.

Well, today Black Squadron would prove what they were capable of!

"Copy that," he acknowledged. Knowing they had that handled, Poe made some final adjustments to his console to further accommodate the modifications to his snubfighter for this mission.

The rest of the squads with them reported in their readiness as well, all anticipating a fight very shortly.

Before him, three First Order Star Destroyers snapped back into realspace, and a few seconds later, a First Order Mandator IV-class Siege Dreadnought appeared in the centre of their formation. He noted how the three smaller ships were slightly ahead of the fleet-killer, flanking it in a triangle, with the 'bottom' two in particular covering the massive ventral-cannons.

No problem there, he grinned, as that's not our target.

. . . Okay, that's slightly a problem, he conceded as all four capital ships disgorged their TIEs. Even worse, the First Order was clearly aiming for the transports first over the planet. Going after those who can actually run, and the evacuation ships can't go to hyperspace. Still, we can do this! It'll just be a little harder, that's all.

All on his own he flew straight towards the enemy task force, guns and shields hot, and hopelessly outclassed. "You all set, Beebee-ate?"

His friend and co-pilot beeping his concerns, and Poe gave a little chuckle, and said, "Happy beeps here, buddy, come on." Flicking a series of switches, he locked shut the s-foils, and made further adjustments for his daring little plan. "We've pulled crazier stunts than this."

He flicked open the comm, and went, "Attention. This is Commander Poe Dameron of the Republic Fleet, I have an urgent communiqué for your commander."

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Looking up from his console, the officer said, "Sir?"

Blandly, the dreadnought commander said, "A single snubfighter wouldn't be offering their surrender. Destroy it.

"Keep two squadrons present for escort, and send the rest of the TIEs to attack the transports and escorts. Be sure they sweep in from the sides so as to not be hit by the capital ships when we enter range."

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* * * Legends Never Die * * *

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Biting back a curse, Poe swerved and dodged around the sudden turbolaser fire from the oncoming fleet. It was taking all of his considerable talent to remain alive, and even the slightest nick was taking a dent out of his shield strength.

Then a certain digital bar went green, and he yelled, "Beebee-ate, punch it!"

On the back of his craft, a high-performance sublight thruster ignited, rocketing them back forward so fast the inertial dampeners nearly failed even as he was pressed tightly against his seat.

The enemy gunners failed to compensate in time, and he swept right through their overlapping fire and in the free straight at the dreadnought. In scant seconds he had crossed the distance, and was upon his lumbering prey.

"Who-hoo! That's got a kick!" he cheered as he snapped back to regular speeds. Eager and ready, he opened his s-foils and began firing at the dorsal turrets with feather-light adjustments of his control stick.

"Alright, taking out the cannons now. Tallie, start your approach."

"Copy that," responded the head of their bomber squads over the radio.

His ship shuddered from enemy fire, and he threw his craft into a loop to escape howling TIEs right on his tail. A whole squadron of them just for him.

At Beebee-ate's nervous chirps, he called back, "Yeah, yeah, I see them!"

While still dodging the rest of the turrets.

Grunting, he swooped around and shot down another one, before doing a hard brake and spun to come around blast one-no-two TIEs into fireballs.

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"Hmm," hummed the enemy commander. "I see. Have the escorting ventral star destroyers come up alongside us, and fire across the dorsal axis. Cutting turbolaser strength to one-tenth to ease any friendly fire. Lower the dreadnought's elevation to speed the process."

"Yes, sir."

His main focus however was upon the sight of the slow, lumbering, and oncoming bombers with their fighter escorts.

"Time to fire the main cannons?"

"Forty-five seconds."

"Commence long-range fire upon those bombers with the rest of the turbolasers. Have the main cannon target and fire upon the main transport the moment it's ready."

"Yes, sir."

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Swallowing another curse at the rising bulks coming up port and starboard of the dreadnought, Poe dived down to hug the hull of it. It kept him clear of that, yet he still had all those TIEs on his tail.

A slight pressure, and another surface cannon blew up, but he knew he was running short on time.

"Poe!" cried out Tallie over the comms. "We're taking heavy fire from the destroyers! We're—" she cut off.

Stomach dropping, Poe threw away caution to come up and down in an arching dive to escape more TIEs, needled through a sensor array so that another TIE was destroyed chasing too close on his tail, and nailed another turret while he swept by. "Okay, listen up, I—"

His seat shook and green splashed over his cockpit, and then everything went dark.

The 'transparisteel canopy' switched to black, with the blood red letters "DEAD" played out on the scream.

Punching it in frustration, Poe struggled momentarily with his restraints and hit the switch to get out.

Pulling himself out of the flight simulator, he saw more of Black, Cobalt, and the other squadron members slowly doing the same. A total wipe-out.

"What was that!?" he yelled, not even sure who he was yelling at or what he wanted.

"My question exactly," said a cold voice behind him.

Whirling around, Poe's hindbrain and hardwired academy training had him snapping out a salute before the rest of him caught up to what was going on.

Glaring at him, Admiral Stazi said, "What was that reckless excuse of a plan? All dependent upon the solo action of a single snubfighter without a wingman from start to finish? What in the Force did you hope to accomplish!?"

"I—" began Poe, only to be cut off.

"The only way that would've worked is if you were facing a novice so easily distracted they forgot the most elementary fleet maneuvers and preparations! Using the A-wings as bomber escorts stripped them of their speed, making them vulnerable, when they'd have at least been remotely justifiable in closing in on the dreadnought."

"Sir," tried Poe, "they weren't good—"

"If that'd been a real engagement, you would've killed off your entire command with no meaningful results! Absolutely wasting their lives!"

That made Poe flinch, and Admiral Stazi slowly nodded. With less heat, he said, "You don't want that on your conscience, Commander Dameron. I've read your file: you're an unquestionably brilliant pilot, but your recklessness and solo behaviour was suited for the Resistance, not an actual military organisation."

"Sir," cut in Poe, "with all due respect, sir, that mission was unwinnable. Especially against a tactician like yourself. Sir."

"Wrong on both points," said Admiral Stazi flatly.

"Sir?"

"He means I was the one commanding the enemy fleet," and oh well Poe can feel his jaw twitching at the arrival of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker himself. The man's face was carefully neutral in a way which somehow only makes it worse; a sensation compounded by his following words. "Although it's been quite some time since I last commanded a fleet, and I was only ever average at best."

"So as flattered as I am," the admiral did not sound flattered, "my point still stands. As for being unbeatable . . . Rogue Squadron! You're up!"

At approaching footsteps, Poe dared turn to see the lead squadron of the Indomitable. Led by the Weequay Commander Jhoram Bey. Behind the tall, broad man —unusual for the stereotype of a fighter jockey— came a mix-mash of other races. A dark-skinned Human woman and a muscular blonde male one. A female Mon Calamari, a male Klatooinian, and a mix of other races including even a Dug of all lifeforms. The Dug was totally smirking mockingly at Poe until he caught a warning look Bey shot over his shoulder.

They also gave sharp salutes which the admiral returned. Turning to the Jedi, he said, "Master Skywalker, your next group. They've received the same briefing, and didn't witness the last performance. Let's see if you do better this time as well."

"Very well," said Master Skywalker.

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From the observation deck, a hollow Poe watched it all play out, while trying his best to ignore how much his squadmates were struggling not to look at him.

Disdaining a direct fight, Commander Bey had ordered the bombers and transports into hyperspace. Instead of the cowardice that was Poe's initial impression, Rogue Squadron had then gone to cover the evacuation shuttles, playing escort against swarms of TIEs until one of the transports popped back into realspace much nearby. It had been a close one getting the shuttles aboard while repelling TIEs even as long-range turbolaser fire plagued them, yet they had pulled it off. There had been losses, and the Dug, Lieutenant Andurgo, had been enough of a loose cannon that Poe felt Stazi had no room to criticize him.

Although he still kept a wingmate . . .

Pilots still 'died,' but nevertheless Rogue Squadron pulled it off, out-showing the best of the best of the Resistance in how it was done.

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Raddus

Later

As befitting their status of 'heroes,' Luke and Mara had been given their own private cabin, one large enough to move around comfortably within. Something neither of them objected to, as it provided not only an escape from the hero worship, but also further time to adjust to their new relationship.

There were two separate bunks, as they were both still slowly testing out their boundaries as a couple. Neither were blushing virgins of course, yet they had waited a decade before properly starting sorting out their feelings, and they were mutually willing to wait even longer to work out the rest.

Plus, it prevented the potential awkwardness of someone chiming at the door while they were both doing . . . naked sparring and wrestling. Proper close quarter combat training was an essential part of being a Jedi after all!

Of course, given who they were, instead of flowers and alcohol, their romantic time alone involved them continuing to be workaholics with a heavy dose of banter.

Honestly, this was a perfectly relaxing state of affairs really.

He was dividing his attention between making up scenario drills for the fighter squadrons, and making further plans for Rey's training. The latter took up more of his focus, because she was truly burning through lessons at a pace that was risking going from 'staggering' to 'unnerving' at this rate.

Meanwhile, Mara was going through various intelligence reports, having finally started receiving what the ex-Resistance and current Republic forces had available on the First Order. She was not part of their actual decision making yet, having previously been receiving orientation on their methods, and testing out her analytical skills. Now, however, she was able to go over what they actually had available.

Luke raised his head as he felt her mounting frustration reverberate through their Force bond. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," she said, glaring at another flimsiplast. "They'd just try and recruit you in the vain hope you would uncover all the secrets of the First Order by closing your eyes and waxing proverbs. There's nothing truly meaningful about their plans, infrastructure, occupied worlds, leadership, capital ships, or anything beyond small, system-level stuff!"

"Ah, that bad then," he grimaced.

That tone, and what she was feeling from him in turn with their shields down, made her put down her work, and give him an unimpressed look with her arms crossed. "Don't start."

"Don't—what?"

"Don't start getting frustrated again over how different this universe is to ours. Sure, they've almost no actually useful intelligence on the First Order beyond some local stuff, but it's not like you can say the NRI back home's much better."

"Well," he said, feeling defensive, "it—"

"Thrawn," she said flatly, raising a hand as she started counting off. "As well as endangering you by sending you on solo intelligence runs during that time. The entire service compromised and blind during the Corellian Crisis. The Hutts and the Darksaber, with your head of intelligence going out on missions himself and getting killed. Various Dark Force user groups running about. The 'reborn' Emperor. A bunch of flight jockeys figuring out Zsinj's schemes. Honestly, the only time I think they actually did their job was during the Black Fleet Crisis, while otherwise they'd have been better off just hiring Karrde full time."

"That would kill off Ackbar and Fey'la with heart attacks," said Luke, trying to inject some humour, only it fell flat.

Releasing a long breath and his emotions into the Force, he conceded she was right. It was the height of arrogance to assume their home universe was without flaw. Certainly he was not without flaw.

Seeing him settling down, Mara put down her work and came over to sit beside him on his bed, easing herself in close, head tucked into the hollow of his neck, and wrapping an arm around him. A display of genuine affection impossible for her to previously imagine granting. "It's hard, I know," she said softly. "Surreal really. But we'll get through this." Still, there was one thing that she felt she had to raise. "Is this about what Kylo Ren said to you about your counterpart?"

A small huff, almost a scoff, escaped him. "Not so much. I mean, it's possible his accusations towards me were true, but we know how much the Dark Side can twist memories and perceptions. Even non-Force Sensitives can do it without any help when trying to justify whatever they're doing. Especially since I've no idea what could've pushed me to try and kill him while he was still a student. Even if my counterpart discovered some sort of heinous crimes Ben had somehow committed while at their Jedi school, how did it escalate like that? Especially since he should've been strong and skilled enough to capture his nephew without resorting to 'murder' as Kylo Ren said.

"So no, while I'll keep it in mind, he's not exactly a reliable witness."

"Good to hear," she said approvingly. A thought struck her, and she asked because she had to, "So does that mean you're still thinking of redeeming your alternate nephew?"

It was no surprise to her, even if he had just days ago been doing his best to kill the younger man.

The way of a Jedi, Luke's way of being a Jedi, was still firmly entrenched within trying to save those lost to the Dark Side. To at least offer a helping hand, regardless of what the consequences may be.

Whether or not Kylo Ren would accept the opportunity, or lose another limb and his life, was up to him.

"I certainly have to try," he sighed. "I mean, just imagine if it really was Jacen I was up against? Another of my family having Fallen? I'd like to think I'd at least try and save him. Or Jaina, or Anakin." He suppressed a wince at the last of his niblings, dearly hoping his youngest, sweet nephew did not feel as if he had anything to prove or make up for by having his grandfather's name, and if he did . . . Luke had every intention of heading that off full stop.

It reminded him too much of how Ben Solo had wanted to embrace his grandfather's so-called 'legacy.'

Something else to check up on then. To at least confirm his assumptions there was nothing wrong there.

"True," she agreed. "I mean, it sounds like Ben Solo had a bunch of issues going on beforehand, which hardly helped."

Although now that that possibility was on their minds . . .

". . . I'm sure that Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin are perfectly fine, and firmly in the Light, but given how the Leia and Han of this universe thought the same of Ben . . ." he trailed off, unable to say anything further.

"A second opinion or two wouldn't hurt," said Mara frankly, an eyebrow raised knowingly. "Probably couldn't hurt," she amended. "I've heard there's experts on child health, so maybe that's what you can look into. Sure, they've been kidnapped a few times, or mixed up in the latest Imperial or Dark Side messes once or twice, but they're tough kids who bounced back, right?"

"Right," agreed Luke, feeling relieved.

For about two seconds.

Frowning, he started mentally ticking off how many times his niece and nephews had been endangered so far. That he knew of.

Also, he had to admit he and Mara did not exactly have the most well-adjusted childhoods. Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen had been saints, except it had still been Tatooine.

. . . Alright, maybe it was the Force, maybe it was him being a fussy uncle, but either way he was getting a sense that maybe that sheer number of endangering incidents was grounds for concern.

At minimum revisit them having Noghri bodyguards available more often?

Cilghal had mentioned something about 'therapy animals' at some point, right? Maybe he should look into getting one for Jacen?

A sharp elbow broke him out of his spiralling thoughts, and he gave Mara a rueful, thankful smile.

"Yes, worry about the 'now,'" he said. "No use worrying about phantom possibilities while we are a literal universe away."

"Indeed. We take what's given."

Grinning at that, he said, "That's just the sort of thing people expect Jedi to say."

"Sorry, no great mystical wisdom there," she teased. "I got it off a poster in this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant on Xan'yirxak."

"Wait? Madam Skirreeaks?"

"What, no. They, well I didn't get their name, but they weren't a local."

"A different place then."

"Well it is a big planet. Enough of a coincidence you'd been there too."

Humour and joy rang through their bond as they leaned in to one another to kiss.

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Raddus

It was a pleasant looking cabin, yet its stark, utilitarian nature did nothing to hide how it was effectively a prison cell. Albeit a more pleasant one.

The woman screamed insults at him, promising he would die horribly for his treason.

Truthfully, Finn was too happy to see her being so upset.

"What's so funny!?" she shrieked.

Suddenly concerned at offending her, the former stormtrooper raised his hands. "I'm not laughing at you!" he swore. "I'm just so happy to see you angry at me!"

Her jaw dropped as sheer incredulity and shock robbed her of speech.

"I mean, when we first brought you in here, you were so afraid you couldn't even look us in the eyes," he hurried on.

When they had escaped Starkiller Base, he had forced this woman to fly him out of there at blaster-point. A TIE pilot only known as TN-3465, and as expendable and afraid as he had been as FN-2187.

"So I'm happy to see you feel safe enough to get angry at me."

Granted, he could tell she did not truly feel safe; you could see it in her eyes. TN-3465 was still terrified, which was fair as he still felt lingering fear even now amongst the Resist—Republic forces. For her though, for all that she was afraid, her anger was currently stronger and bursting through. Anger . . . and confusion and imbalance as the universe she knew was upended.

The First Order was superior, and yet it had lost.

Stormtroopers were eternally loyal, and yet here was a traitor before her. A happy one at that.

By now she should have been executed, except she was still alive.

They should be torturing her for information, when instead she was being treated with a kindness foreign to her. So she was lashing out to provoke him into striking her and restoring her sense of how things worked. Certainly an officer of the First Order would have already pinned her down for a beating after half of those obscenities. All when in reality they were empty air.

Not that Finn was an interrogation or intelligence expert or anything, as he was simply going by what Mara and the other agents had coached him on. Although they had been expecting a whole lot more anger than fear.

Regardless, they had a captured pilot, and there was a lot of potential value in what she knew.

Finn's motivations however were something a whole lot simpler.

When he took a careful step forward, she flinched as her bravado evaporated. Freezing, he waited until it looked like her pulse had eased up before making his next move.

"Here," he said, handing over a datapad, "this is for you."

It was against prisoner regulations apparently to give them something as sturdy as that, except she was a fighter jockey, and he was a stormtrooper, and they both knew it.

Swallowing, she hesitantly accepted it, before frowning in further confusion. "What are these?" she asked, scrolling down the list. "They don't—they aren't—what sort of questions are these?"

"They aren't questions," said Finn patiently. "They're names. Names for you to choose for yourself."

"I—what?" she said, utterly lost now.

"You're a person, not a thing," said Finn softly, wishing Poe was here to say this. "You deserve a name. Something for people to call you. For you to call yourself."

"I'm TN-3465," she whispered.

"That's a serial number for a thing," he insisted softly yet unyieldingly.

Indoctrination clashed against fear for her life, and an engrained need to comply with authority figures.

And, he hoped, a desire for her own identity.

"I . . . what should I choose?"

"Try ones similar to TN," he suggested. "Mine was originally FN-2187."

Afraid of a trap, she scooted back a bit, and then sat —hunched really— down on her stool, and started going through it more carefully. Occasionally she shot him a conflicted glance, obviously assuming he was playing some sort of sick game with her and trying to spot his 'real' intentions.

Because life did not work like this. Not for those raised by the First Order.

Over an hour passed, only that was nothing for Finn and the sort of duties he had pulled in the past as he just stood there. At first he kept stock still as they were trained, only to belatedly switch to shifting here and there because he could now if he wanted to. It further unnerved her, but he figured better than being a frozen, unnatural statue.

Finally though, she awkwardly pointed to one name in particular; she had kept coming back to it at least a dozen times, even if he could not read what exactly it said. "This. Tannis."

"Nice to meet you, Tannis," he grinned broadly.

Seeing that rekindled some defiance in her. "I'm still loyal to the First Order," spat Tannis.

Smile falling, he bluntly said, "Why?"

". . . What?"

"Why are you loyal to the First Order?" he slowly elaborated.

It had taken him a long time to realise the answer for himself: I wasn't.

I was just afraid of them.

An enlightening realisation once he had been given the time to truly think about it.

Almost serenely Finn waited as she swallowed back various comments before settling upon something familiar, "I'm loyal to the First Order. I won't tell you anything!"

Except there was a waiver to her voice as she repeated those proud words, and he could tell she heard it too.

"How is it disloyal to tell me why you follow them?"

"They're bringing the galaxy order!"

"And what does 'order' mean?"

Hesitation, as she just stared at him blankly; as far as she was concerned, he should know this. It had been engrained within them since childhood. "Order," she spat, "is . . ." the words died off in her mouth as she just gaped in horror at him.

'Order' had become a meaningless word poured into their heads for them to just repeat without knowing what it really meant.

"An empty justification," he said, laying it out plainly for her. Something that he would not have thought of to ask for himself until Luke had raised it.

"It's for peace and prosperity!"

"How is killing people and destroying worlds keeping peace or building anything worthwhile? Most people on Hosnian Prime weren't politicians."

She gaped at him, struggling to really conceptualize how people had died in the Hosnian system.

Rallying, she went for, "We—we need to keep the galaxy in check from all the rampant corruption. They kill each other every day over petty squabbles, or scrambling for resources. The wealthy languish, while the poor starve!"

"And how does killing people save them?" he pressed mercilessly, but not with heat. "How many of those poor people have really had their children stolen away to serve the First Order?"

"Our victory is inevitable!" Except instead of a defiant cry, it was the strained wail of a woman at the end of her lifeline.

"Starkiller Base," and she recoiled as if he had struck her.

Telegraphing his movements, he pulled out another datapad from the coat Poe had gifted him. "Do you know how we pulled that off by the way?"

"T—treachery."

"Yes. Treachery," and he appreciated her giving him the perfect opening. "Treachery by the First Order. Phasma took down the planetary shields for us."

"Lies," she hoarsely insisted.

"I honestly didn't even know we had this," he said, bringing up the recording to play out before her paling face. A depiction of Phasma at a console while blasters were held to her; showing no sign of resistance as she sold out the entirety of the First Order. "But the astromech, Artoo-Deetoo, managed to grab it in his data dump. Proof that the leaders of the First Order don't care at all about the lives of anyone else; including their own people who are expected to sacrifice themselves on those leaders' behalf."

"Lies," and she was almost crying now.

It hurt to do this to her, but he knew that for her own sake he had to press just a little harder. "Then how else did we do it? Tannis, you're just a TIE pilot. What point is there in us concocting some elaborate ruse to fool you?"

This brutal fact, especially piled upon her indoctrinated low self-esteem, made her collapse within herself, tears running down her eyes.

Bewildered, she scooped them up with a finger, looking at them as if she had never seen them before.

"You're free to cry now too," he said gently as he could. He had not yet himself, but doing so in the Corps would have been a death sentence at practically any age.

These were not all his answers and responses for her; he was no expert at wordplay. Instead, he had rehearsed this with the various intelligence agents involved, practicing with questions and statements he would not have thought up on his own. He was only using those he agreed with, of course, the ones which felt truly right to him. Thought-provoking.

Granted, he could also tell those same agents were trying encourage him to enlist as well, except while he might have been a dumb grunt, he was not that much of a dumb grunt.

Which led to his next angle of attack.

"You know, I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to join the Resistance."

She blinked several times before leaning over to hiss, "Are you an idiot!? They'll kill you for noncompliance!"

"No they won't," he said with absolute confidence. "If I don't want to fight, they'll find somewhere I can live as a civilian." He leaned over in turn so their faces were almost touching, "And that means you've got other options, other choices, as well."

After that he just silently waited, except she just sat there staring without seeing at the datapad in her hands.

When half an hour had passed without a response, he concluded it was time to give her space.

"Take care of yourself," he said softly, unsure if she could even really hear him, and made his way out.

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Raddus

Within a small conference room, a meeting of giants began. Living legends who had dictated the path of the galaxy a horrifying number of times.

Well, unliving and unsung legends really, but truthfully it was probably for the best that people underestimated them, and so that the citizens of the New Republic were not driven into a panic.

With the table between them, Artoo and Artoo exchanged a face-off, while Threepio felt his circuits overheating as he glanced back and forth between the two of them.

Finally he just threw his arms up in the air and wailed in frustration, "Oh just talk already! You've both caused very impressive messes, and we all know you're just dying to boast about them!"

A pause, and he added more calmly, "And Alternate Master Luke wants a better comparison between universes, and summary. So get to it."

Beeping and whistling in mutual smugness, the two astromechs got down to business.

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Indomitable

Datapad tucked into her pocket, Leia made her way into the conference room, raised an eyebrow at how it was only the man who had requested her presence present.

"So, Chancellor, what did you wish to discuss?"

"Interim Chancellor," reminded Jacen Syndulla, rolling his eyes. He knew full well she was only doing that to remind him. "Or," and here he waved a sardonic hand at the holo-display beside him, "as much as I can be."

It displayed a map of the New Republic, with vast swaths of it highlighted red to indicate that they were under First Order control.

White ones were neutral. Green ones were Republic worlds which had acknowledged his authority. Ones with a purple ring to them refused; most of which had their own senators who had fled to their homeworlds while grabbing as much of the New Republic fleet as they could. Meanwhile those with yellow rings were suspected of only paying lip-service to his authority while waiting to see how events would unfold. Thankfully, for now, the green New Republic worlds were the most numerous, yet there remained an unhealthy mixture of the rest.

Unspoken between them was how he had only assumed his current rank by virtue of everyone else in the Senate being too dead or cowardly to claim it for themselves.

"As for what I want," he continued, "I want you to help me tear apart your life's work, and put it back together differently."

Letting that sink in, and refusing to show how much that had thrown her, Leia moved to take her seat, and now understood why he wanted a private meeting. ". . . You're talking about the Republic itself."

Grimacing, Jacen poured them both a drink of something strong and stimulating. "As much as either of us will hate to admit it, the New Republic ultimately failed. After only a pittance of years compared to the Old Republic."

Passing her glass, he elaborated, "If we're going to save what's important about it, about the dream too many have died for, what our fathers died for—" and it was a good thing for his sake she knew he meant Bail Organa "—and what we're fighting for right now, then we need to make it more functional.

"Things which too often were pushed aside in the name of compromise before. Stuff like more representation for the Outer Rim. Reforming the educational system to better teach people the importance of personal rights over security. Because frankly, a disturbing number of people didn't see enough, or any, difference between the Empire or the New Republic. Or the mess and failure the Old Republic had become."

See the number of worlds which had embraced the First Order.

Seeing Leia's acerbically raised eyebrow and boring glare of forced patience, he waved it aside. "Don't worry, I'm not asking you to write up a complete and detailed new constitution, laws, and sets of policies for me right now. We'll need more people involved for one thing, or else it'll functionally be a dictatorship. For now, just starting with the basics, listing out what needs to be addressed."

Rather than meet her stare, he fiddled with his pile of datapads until a heavy sigh escaped her, and she felt herself slump forward.

Disturbed, he made an aborted gesture of support before catching himself.

Smart boy.

Taking a seat across from him, Leia pulled out the bitter, nauseous truth. "You're right. I originally thought what we'd created was good enough, that we'd make more improvements over time, fixed the mistakes we'd made, and the compromises made were worth it. Except it really wasn't. Even when Mon was alive, there were too many flaws, and once she stepped down, well, it was all downhill from there."

"And even if the First Order was helping give it a push," he said soberly, "the very fact they could means we failed."

Leia's lips curdled in distaste as she knew he was right. Even when she had been hollering warnings for all to hear, she had wanted to believe the New Republic was still resilient enough to survive whatever the First Order offered. That the threat lay in how more lives would be lost if they were not prepared. Instead it had faced its first true crisis, and ultimately it was in danger of completely crumbling away before her eyes.

"An actual, strong centralised executive branch of government," Leia began. "We went too far in trying to make the Republic appear nothing like the Empire." Her lips twitched as an over decade-old bitterness and resentment floods her veins before she quashes it, recalling her arguments for the next topic being the beginning of the end of her political career, and the resounding calls of 'war monger' among other titles. "As well as a standing military which actually has a hope of defending it and reacting in emergencies."

Jacen's expression went sardonic and wry, all too familiar with her position, his mother having ultimately resigned her commission in protest of the direction the military was heading as the disarmament continued unopposed. Although given how the politicians had felt about General Syndulla at the time, Leia suspected that was also to get out before they fired her.

Moreover, he could appreciate the severe understatement there. No one had been as opposed to the Military Disarmament Act as one Senator Leia Organa Solo.

The scandal about Vader had been the final grain of sand, yet realistically she had known her political career had been dying even beforehand. In that, Mon's actions of shutting her out of the day-to-day running of the government had hurt. Still, it was something she had believed could be corrected with time. That it would not be a death knell for the New Republic. Had reluctantly appreciated the sheer uphill battle for widespread public support for a functional military.

Leia understood, of course. How could she not?

After two galaxy-wide civil wars in less than half a century, people had been so desperate for peace that they had chosen to be wilfully blind to the fact you have to be ready to fight for peace if necessary. Diplomacy should always be the first recourse, but not everyone was so civilised.

"Stazi might have shoved us into an airlock if we didn't agree to that," said Jacen, trying to inject a little humour. "But yes."

"If we're going to be rebuilding democracy from the ground up, after you promised everyone up front that you'd be setting a firm timeframe on elections for a new government, you'd better be sure above all else you actually do that. I'm not expecting you to already have a date, but we do need to provide further reassurance that there are going to be elections. That you're leading the way, and proving democracy matters to you."

She half-expected a joke about how otherwise his mom and their adoptive family would show up, dangling him by his ankles until he called for elections, yet he only gave a serious nod, and noted that down on a datapad.

"We also need to revisit our internal review and anti-corruption policies." Waving off Leia's glare before it burned the green hairs off his head, Jacen said, "Obviously no government's ever been perfect, but given everything, we'd be remiss in not at least taking the opportunity to re-examine them. Certainly the First Order infiltrated the Senate worse than we feared."

Moreover, both of them were well aware of how many of the rich and powerful, those who had been growing fat off the misery of people since even the days of the Old Republic were still out there. 'Well respected citizens' seeking to profit off of every credit they could squeeze out of this war, while retaining their prestige and influence.

Grudgingly Leia conceded his point, and that led to her own major grievance there. "The legislature was poorly designed to prevent one political party from dominating." Given her own fights over the matter in the past, she was actually eagerly willing to roll up her sleeves and dive right into that one.

"Scrapping chain codes."

That made her pause, running it back and forth in her head, before reluctantly conceding. An invention of the Empire, as much as it had made customs more streamlined, coordinating benefits, and monitoring various trends, at its core it had been a tool of tracking people and control. Something which the bureaucracy of government and too many politicians had screamed against relinquishing. Faced with ongoing Imperial loyalists, rising crime, and other 'distractions,' Leia had not fought as hard as she should have to be done with that. Trusting others to handle the matter while she focused on her own projects, only for in the end it to remain entrenched within the New Republic.

"Having a member of the Outer Rim as Chancellor for the first time will earn you no favours with the Core Worlds, but it might be what we need to tempt them back in the Rim."

"Interim Chancellor," he muttered. "And honestly, despite that it'll still be a hard sell. The Republic failed to learn from what happened with the Separatists, and the First Order took advantage of that. The First Order is too entrenched there, and it seems that's where they're getting a lot of their conscripts. It'll be a bitter fight, but if we can come in as liberators and actually help them instead of trying to make them subservient and dependent upon the Core . . ."

Sighing, Leia threw back the rest of her current drink, and then got up to pour herself a cup of caf.

This was going to be a loooong meeting.

Nonetheless, she would fight the battles she was capable of.

/ * * \

* * * Legends Never Die * * *

\ * * /

"—fired off them to take out the rest of the stormtroopers!" cackled Cara Dune.

"Awesome," admitted Finn with a twinge of discomfort. That could have once been him after all, even if hurting the First Order, or the Empire as it had been at the time, should only be a good thing.

"Your Mandalorian friend's Whistling Birds do sound interesting," mused a visibly interested Mara. "They sound like the flechette weapons we use back home, if more accurate. Those've never been my thing, but I should give one of those a look."

Casually she stroked her new riot baton, and, well, Finn figured congrats to her for getting all she could out of her insane adventure in what was apparently a different universe.

"They're pretty darn rare," warned Cara. "So no guarantees. Still, I know there's that other thing going on with them. Maybe I'll be able to work something out."

"Appreciated," nodded Mara with an eager, dangerous smirk. "I'll owe you one.

"Hey, if it helps you kill Stormies more, power to you. Goes right through their armour like its nerf-wool."

"No challenge there," griped Finn, getting angry now. This was not the first time he had talked about this, talked to Cara even about it, but it was like every other time it came up he had something more to say on the topic. "The stuff they'd give us was practically useless!"

"All about appearances and intimidation," said Mara sagely.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, getting up, and waving his hands around as he vented about it. "If we're, we were, I was, part of the most elite military alive, then why couldn't they give us something decent to wear!? Something that would actually help keep us alive! Oh sure, Phasma liked to brag about how it could stop a Wookie, but since meeting one I doubt that! While she went around in the only chromium set!"

"Is that something you'd like to bring up in those broadcasts we'd discussed?" asked the third and final woman in the room with him, cutting him out of his angry pacing.

"Uh . . ." he managed, completely thrown off.

She was an older non-Human, a Bothan they had told him, who while 'only' sitting beside Cara, was still curled up so close beside her she was practically in the bigger woman's lap. Asyr Sei'lar Dune had joined them a few days ago in asking questions about his training, how stormtroopers fought, and other details.

She had also been showing him how they were sharing the details on how the First Order had been abducting and indoctrinating children to fight and die on their behalf; Project Resurrection he had learnt it was called. They had shared with him other new details even he had not been aware of, and had been trying to use this information to convince more systems to fight back.

"I know you want me doing the interviews myself," Finn said as firmly as he could, even if he knew it still sounded weaker than he wanted. "But I—I can't. If I show my face—"

He was already a traitor in the First Order's eyes, yet if he took that next step, then there was no escaping into obscurity after this.

"And people are already listening, right?" he said with growing enthusiasm. "You don't need me for that, when they're already knowing about the other stuff."

None of them looked as enthusiastic as he had hoped, so he quickly threw in, "I'll happily write something out though for armour and such. That's be awesome, honestly!"

"Kid," Cara interjected sadly, "not everyone's automatically believing it just because we say so. They don't want to believe it."

"I—what? What do you mean? Why don't they believe me? Believe you?"

It made no sense. How could people not see how evil the First Order was!?

"Because they'd rather bury their heads then accept the truth," said Cara with a glare. She quickly looked away from him when she saw it was making him uncomfortable, yet was still trying to melt a hole in the wall with her eyes.

"Because, Finn," said Asyr heavily as she leaned forward, "it's just like how a short time ago you'd been taught that all members of the Resistance are liars. Or that all Republic politicians, including the ones now spreading these stories about the First Order, are liars."

That . . . made him pause and think, dropping him back into his seat.

"Just because we're telling people something," she continued, "doesn't mean that they'll believe it over other things they hear."

Mara's comm beeped, and she looked at it with irritation. "I've got someplace else to go. But Finn?"

Dazed, he raised his head and she gently patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me, you're handling this well. Coming to question everything you've been raised with? Speaking from personal experience, it isn't easy, but," and here her face twisted into distaste, "you're handling it better than I did."

Giving one last, awkward pat, she strolled out.

"Indeed," said Asyr. "What you're already doing has been a fantastic help. Even if the war's not over, we owe you more than you can imagine just for helping us destroy Starkiller Base. So be proud of yourself and what you've done. Okay?"

"I—I will," he promised as best as he could. What else could he say though? What else should he say? Everything felt all so—

"Right! Enough sappy talk," declared Cara, shooting to her feet. Despite her age, she still lightly held her smaller wife in her arms, gracefully setting her down. With two quick strides she was gently if irresistibly pulling Finn back out of his chair. "You and me in the gym. Let's see how stormtrooper training holds out in practice against old age and experience."

"Don't you mean, 'old age and treachery,'" teased Asyr.

"Same thing. You don't live to be old by playing nice."

Punching something or someone did sound better than facing his feelings . . .

/ * * \

* * * Legends Never Die * * *

\ * * /

The Raddus' cafeteria was a bustling place, and yet an uncomfortable aura of silence hovered about the table occupied by Black Squadron.

One centered upon their commander, friend, and stalwart leader, Poe Dameron who was wearing a highly uncharacteristic cloud of gloom.

None of them said anything, trying to pretend nothing was wrong, but for Poe that only made it even worse.

Not that he was going to mention anything, lest he upset his friends and squad, and thus make himself even more of a failure.

"—cold metal sliding over his thoughts—"

"—seeing what he tried to hide held gloatingly—"

"—e. Poe!"

The familiar voice of L'ulo L'ampar, his old family friend and surrogate uncle jolted him out of it.

Quickly he shored up a reassuring smirk to the aged Duro. Poe knew it was brittle, but seemed to alleviate some concerns. "I'm sorry," he said. "Guess—guess I'm just more thrown off than I thought I was. Didn't expect things to be smooth sailing once we blew up Starkiller, but you'd think they'd have more gratitude for what we did."

Murmurs of agreement went up and down the table from the rest of Black Squadron.

Or what was left of it.

What was left of those he had flown with to destroy the superweapon. The ones who had come back home alive.

A few new faces were there as well, yet he had not really gotten to know them well. Nonetheless, there was no denying the feeling of how their squad had become depleted.

Which included recently learning Oddy Muva had not been 'reassigned,' but picked up as a kriffing First Order mole.

No, what really stung about the state of his squad —the one thing that was not Poe's fault— was how Snap and Karé had been grounded and reassigned to non-combat missions. It was not their fault the First Order had somehow tracked them! The difference between them and the Empire or the First Order was how they cared for their own!

"If that'd been a real engagement, you would've killed off your entire command with no meaningful results! Absolutely wasting their lives!"

The full-body twitch escaped him, and he fought to keep it from going further.

From becoming more of a—

"You there, Poe?" asked Jess this time, gently nudging him.

"Yeah," he muttered, dropping it to dig more into his rations.

"They even threw pardons at us for technically being deserters," said Kaydel Ko Connix, his friend from the bridge crew trying to redirect everyone's attention elsewhere.

"Well, the Resistance was illegal, so can't really ignore that," sighed Jess, even if L'ulo and the rest chuckled in bitter agreement. For himself, Poe shot Kaydel Ko a quick, grateful look.

"People tend to forget that about the Rebel Alliance as well," agreed L'ulo.

"Or how many of its heroes started out as smugglers and other criminals."

"That's right," agreed L'ulo, nodding at the man who had joined them, before double-taking and freezing up.

The sight of a Jedi Master appearing beside you with his own plate of rations would have that effect.

Everyone else stiffened before a relaxed if dismissive gesture made them stop and slowly settle; somehow he had conveyed the order "at ease" without any words. No Jedi powers involved. Given the flight uniform he wore, it came with the sort of familiarity expected of a veteran pilot putting his juniors at ease.

"What matters more," continued Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, "is what people do with their lives afterwards."

"That's right, sir," said Poe, and here the brief jolt of adrenaline had him pushing his shoulders back, and tension easing out of his previously cold body. "Guess you'd know," brimming with his familiar surety, "coming from a vapour farm and all." He paused, and then got the stories right, and with a little embarrassment quickly corrected it as, "Moisture farm, I mean."

"The Force works in mysterious ways," agreed Master Skywalker sagely.

Discreetly Poe cast a glance around them, except nobody seemed to be noticing their table.

"Oh, it's no trick like that," Master Skywalker hastily assured, pitching his voice a little lower. "It's just the notion of me being out dressed like this, my hair messed up, is enough. As for those who do notice, well they get what I'm intending, and don't want to interfere."

"Huh, right," nodded Poe agreeably. "Makes sense. And for the record, I came from a nowhere colony myself."

Without even having to focus, he could feel his friends and pilots relaxing around him, the last tension resolving from his casual engagement with the living legend. Good, good. No need to make it awkward for anyone here.

"Glad to know," said Luke easily. "And that's the way it should be; people from all over coming together to make a difference."

"So," said Poe, waving his ration bar with an idle casualness that admittedly only barely dulled the edge of suspicion, "is this supposed to be the good cop routine now? Stazi tears us a new one, and you show up and say how proud we should be?"

Delight lit up the older man's eyes, and he gave a small laugh. "Not exactly. Although, there's no denying you and your squad are good. Or that Stazi hasn't noticed that you're the one Leia chose to go find my counterpart, and what that implies. He wouldn't be putting so much effort into your training otherwise."

Levity fell aside unfortunately, as the Jedi Master swept his gaze up the table, and soberly said, "But that includes the weight of potential failures for you all."

The censure of one of his heroes made Poe's gut clench, yet L'ulo snorted. "State the obvious more, why don't you?"

"Because I want to make sure everyone actually remembers," said Master Skywalker calmly, and the Duro's lips twitched without another word.

"Sir," started Poe, "if this is about Snap and—"

A raised hand cut him off, and Luke simply said, "It's out of my hands, and honestly I don't know enough to judge. But honestly, the way them being in a relationship, being married, could have impacted their decisions, is something someone will inevitably be bringing up to me at some point, given my own relationship with Mara. I care a lot for my personal attachments after all. And frankly, I also have to balance that against the realities of war."

"But Jedi were generals in the Clone Wars," pointed out Jess.

"And I don't really know what that means for me," confessed their only Jedi Master. "We are, all of us, still learning after all."

A part of Poe wanted to glare at the man for the blatant aesop approach there . . .

Except he could not deny it did help. Even just a bit.

"Subtle," Poe deadpanned nonetheless.

"As the First Order," said Master Skywalker with a twinkle of mischief, clearly satisfied his point had gotten across. The humor hit dead on, with most at the table smiling or making sounds of amusement. He took another bite of his ration bar while the rest of the table absorbed this, yet Poe could see it sinking in.

"Speaking of which," continued Master Skywalker, "the First Order's own heavy-handed symbolism focuses on a doctrine of capital ships. While keeping the iconic TIE Fighter design despite being vastly inferior to say the Interceptor."

Rankled piloting pride had the others nodding along, or shaking their heads at that. Kaydel Ko had heard them complain too often about how stupid the large, square wings were in atmo to be surprised.

"Meanwhile, for the New Republic, we maintain emphasis on snubfighters, which is easier to maintain logistically, and we're still at the stage of hit-and-run tactics, so that's what we'll be hurting them with. Meanwhile, maintaining and fueling their capital ships will be much harder in comparison, further stretch their own resources."

"So we're going to be the point of the spear," concluded Poe, and he could feel his lips curl back in anticipation of some payback.

"You're going to be the point of the spear," emphasized Master Skywalker, indicating the whole squad. "The heroes of the Resistance, the ones who destroyed Starkiller Base, so you've got to be the best of the best."

"And we'll deliver, sir," promised Poe. The Jedi gave him a smile in return.

Anything further was savaged silent as a furrow started to spread through the cafeteria.

Angry words and cries of horror rippling out from rising tables.

"What's happening?" demanded Poe.

"I don't know," frowned Master Skywalker, joining him in standing. "Just nothing good."

/ * * \

* * * Legends Never Die * * *

\ * * /

It was an alien sensation to be moving through the bowels of a living capital ship like the Raddus, and not be scavenging whatever she could.

Although these days Rey always had a full belly, which did help change things.

Still, she made a point of still opening all the access panels of the thrumming ship, seeing what it was like when they were working, and comparing it. Imperial ships were her usual on Jakku, and she had no real familiarity with a New Republic one. The Mon Calamari truly had formed art out of their ships in comparison.

As she continued her exploring—studies! Studies. Master Skywalker had told her to brush up on her mechanical engineering, so this was not her wasting time, but improving herself as a Jedi.

Wincing, she looked around to be sure she had not disturbed anyone after slamming the panel shut so hard.

Taking a small breath, Rey settled herself, and moved on. She was doing nothing wrong here.

Reaching an intersection, she looked down the various corridors, and stopped to consider where they must lead given what she had already seen. What did she want to see next?

Maybe this way?

Briefly she wondered about using the Force to find the best way before dismissing that as too frivolous.

Although . . . What was the harm in trying? If it was frivolous, surely the Force would ignore her, right?

Is that how it worked?

. . . What was the harm?

Reaching out to the Force, she tried to tell if there was any particular guidance, only to be unsurprised if also a little disappointed there did not seem to be anything. Oh well.

No matter, there was more of a fascinating, exciting ship to look through, and—

Rey paused, and then looked up and down the corridor she was in.

When did I start walking down here? How did I choose to go here?

She could see the intersection she had just been at, but getting from there to here was a blur.

I—

A sniffling noise cut through her thoughts, and she instantly moved in that direction.

Rounding a corner, she was stunned to find Poe sitting hunched over in shadows, half-hidden behind some crates, fiercely wiping tears from his face.

Their eyes met and she froze. What should she do? What could she do?

Her and Poe meeting for the first time on the airfield. Finn introducing them both, and the fighter jockey's words to her:

"Glad to make another friend out of someone who knows them too."

Resolve washed away her doubts. She had resolved she would die for this man for calling her 'friend.' Abandoning him would be a betrayal of that vow.

Hesitantly, so as to not startle him, she made her way over, ignoring him waving her off and insisting he was fine.

"No, you're not," she said softly, sitting down beside him.

Now what?

Unsure of how to really do it, she carefully put one arm around his shoulders like she had seen other people do before. "This is what friends do, right?"

The pilot stiffened at the touch, only for a weak, weird mix of a chuckle and sob to escape him. ". . . Yeah. Yeah, they do."

A heavy, loaded silence unfurled, until at last Poe said, "Guess you want to know what's up, don't you?"

"Only if you want me to."

"Nah. Everyone probably knows now. The First Order . . . The First Order attacked Yavin IV. Place where the General and the others blew up the First Death Star. Wetyin's Colony, we call it. Called it. They used this new super-flagship of theirs, boasted about it being called the Supremacy, their capital of the First Order. Boasted!"

Her grip tightened as his tone became increasingly ragged and heated.

"Said they were repressing terrorists, but it was a warning to those helping the Resistance. And they made it slow. Everyone down there, my dad, were forced to watch it happen, and know there was no saving themselves!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered in horror.

"I never—he didn't . . . When we were going after Starkiller, I had BeeBeeAte send my dad a message, but we hadn't really talked in, about . . ."

". . . Too long?" she offered, wincing as she did so.

"Yeah. So many things I wish I'd said now. Done better. Told him how much I loved him."

A low huff escaped him, "Couldn't have been easy on him."

"Got into a lot of trouble?" That was what she had heard parents say about their kids before.

"Well, let's just say I had some wild teenage years," he said. Except there was a trace of strange evasion there, even if she did not press on the topic.

"So, what was it like there?"

"It . . . it was lush, and green, and warm," a choked sob racked through him, "and I'd just called it a 'nowhere colony' and now it's gone."

Safer topic! Safer topic!

"Tell me about your dad. What was his name?"

"Kes. Kes Dameron."

There was no mention of his mom, and so Rey decided it was best to just avoid her. Although she had a suspicion the woman was dead.

"Tell me about him."

Rey had no recollection of what her own parents were named. Except she knew they loved her. Knew that they were going to return.

Here and now, sitting in a shadowy corner as she listened to her friend recount his regrets, her resolve hardened all the more to find them. To form her own precious memories with them . . .

. . . Before it was too late.

/ * * \

* * * Legends Never Die * * *

\ * * /

Author Notes:

I feel that Poe's entire canon engagement in The Last Jedi is best summarised from Schlock Mercenary's Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries:

#42 "They'll never expect this" means "I want to try something stupid."

#43. If it's stupid and it works, it's still stupid and you're lucky.

And the 'luck' in canon was how General Hux is an objectively terrible commander in his actual on-screen military performances.

That said, while Poe really did need to be called out for his behaviour in canon, that slap was wildly unprofessional. Here, his loss was more complete, if not with the same cost. For his sake, hopefully that balances out into him learning something.

.

Yes, I am aware there is a whole lot of supplemental material about Poe learning to temper his rasher side, only it seems that it keeps getting retconned by the films itself.

For the record, the best portrayal of him I have seen, and which has really helped me in figuring out how I want to write him, is "You Can Fly Anything" by SassySnowperson on AO3.

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Next Chapter: "A Plan"

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Please Review, and I will get back to you!