BB-8 whirled loudly, curious.
“Tuusah is the residue from the mine runoff. Turns out tuusah has medicinal properties, so a new industry was born. Maybe it wasn’t as lucrative as the Empire’s strip mining, but it was a heck of a lot kinder to the planet’s flora and fauna.”
BB-8 whirled again, and Poe laughed.
“You’re right,” he said. “The Empire has never been kind. But the planet is a resort destination now, and the capital is called Wish. What a name, right? It used to be Outpost 665 or something boring like that. But now?” He waved his hand. “Wish.
“It’s one of the largest spas in the galaxy. All kinds of mineral baths and healing treatments and some kind of legendary oxide therapy that’s supposed to make you look younger.”
The little droid sounded distressed.
“You look pretty good yourself, my friend. But we’re not here to get pampered. We’re here to find Maz Kanata, remember?”
When Maz Kanata had sent him Ephemera’s coordinates, she had also told him the planet’s history. “A bit remote,” she had said, “way off any useful trade routes, but there’s plenty of rest and relaxation to be found if you like drifting in a cloud. And the population is a hoot.” And then she’d cackled and cut off the communication with a See you soon.
So here he was, maneuvering his way through a gaseous sea of pale pinks and greens and blues to a landing pad that seemed no more substantial than the heavy atmosphere through which his starfighter flew.
A transmission came in, and BB-8 opened the channel without Poe having to ask.
“Welcome to Ephemera airspace,” came a strangely wispy voice, almost like the soft exhale of a child. “Please identify yourself so that we can grant you landing clearance.”
“This is…” Poe hesitated. He was known to the First Order. Known and despised. He didn’t think the First Order was lurking on this anonymous Outer Rim resort world, but he had been wrong about that kind of thing before, and it paid to be cautious, even when he was flying a ship that no one would mistake for an X-wing. But he didn’t get a chance to answer before another voice replaced the first one, this one not wispy or soft at all.
“Poe Dameron, is that you?” This voice was crankily familiar. There was muffled protest on the other end and then, “Oh, give me that mike, dear, I can take it from here.” Poe heard sounds of struggle. “I didn’t hire you to…” More struggle, and then a heavy thump.
Poe waited a moment before asking, “Maz?”
“What? Of course it’s me, you fool. Who else would have asked you to this backwater?”
“Is…is everything all right?”
“What? Oh yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“It sounds like you’re having problems.”
“Bah. Just some people getting a little possessive with the equipment. Nothing to concern yourself with. I’ve handled it. Now hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”
Poe’s brow creased. “Uh, I’d be happy to land, but I don’t see anything that looks like it’ll hold the ship up. Am I in the right place?”
Silence, and then, “Oh, you’re right. Isn’t that funny? Some kind of security measure, the locals assure me, but really I think they’re just partial to the undulation.”
“The undulation?”
“You’ll see. Everything here sways a bit. Now…let me…” He could hear her shuffling things around and the decided click of something heavy engaging, and just like that, the thing that had borne only the suggestion of a landing pad gathered and appeared to solidify until it looked like a normal place to put his ship down.
“What in the…?” Poe muttered.
“It’s perfectly safe, Dameron. Now are you going to land or not? I thought you were on urgent Resistance business.”
Poe shook his head. No use arguing with Maz when she was right. Whatever it had been before, the landing pad was now the real deal.
“Copy,” he said. “Coming in now.”
“Good, good. See you soon. Oh, are you hungry? Have you eaten? I should have food brought up, shouldn’t I? I’ll have to ask them to prepare something special unless…you don’t have time for a psychedelic experience do you, Dameron?”
He chuckled in disbelief. “Not today, Maz. Like you said, urgent business.”
“Of course. Okay then. Tah.” And with that the transmission ended.
Maz Kanata was a legend. No one could deny that. Rumors ran rampant anyplace pilots gathered about wild nights spent back at Maz’s castle on Takodana or of some fortuitous run-ins with “the pirate queen” that made everyone a bit wealthier. But she was hard to pin down, harder still to understand. She always seemed to know who was doing what even in the most remote corners of the galaxy, and she was an uncanny judge of character. Poe had no idea how she did it, or how vast her network was, but it was impressive. And now he hoped that she would muster her impressive powers to help the Resistance regroup and find its footing.
* * *
—
“I’m not helping you with anything,” Maz said, adjusting her spectacles to get a better look at Poe’s astonished face. “If you recall, last time I stuck my neck out for the Resistance, the First Order destroyed my castle. Do you know how much I loved that castle?”
“It was a great castle,” Poe admitted.
“The best. Do you know how long I had had it?”
“A thousand years?”
“A thou…” She paused, giving Poe a suspicious look. He grinned, playfully. “Longer than you’ve been around, flyboy, that’s for sure. So don’t sniff at me like I’m being unreasonable.”
She dipped her hand in the gelatinous goop that filled the bowl next to her and brought back a handful of something pink and smooth that smelled distinctly of sulfur. She leaned out of her recliner, offering some to Poe. “You want?”
“No, I’m fine.”
They were both sitting on long sinuous loungers in one of Wish’s ubiquitous day spas. Poe was still in his uniform, small mercy, but Maz was wrapped in a thick fluffy white towel, a second white towel wrapped tightly around her head. Her bare feet soaked in a mix of muddy chemicals Poe couldn’t identify, and willowy attendants fluttered in and out of the room, proffering teas and colonics and other concoctions Poe politely refused. Maz was now smearing the sulfur-scented goop she had offered Poe on her broad cheeks and humming merrily.
“What is that stuff?” he asked, sniffing. “It smells terrible.” The sulfur odor had been replaced with an ammonia one.
“Feline poop. From some species that’s lived here so long that it’s practically native to the planet. Imagine. A planet with no solid ground but plenty of cats. The story is that the founder of Ephemera was a Rothkahar philosopher. He domesticated this species because he thought them of advanced intelligence…or maybe they domesticated him. I forget. Anyway, later on, he found that their excrement had healing properties. High concentrations of tibanna gas, naturally processed into tuusah.” She laughed again. “Does wonders for the skin.”
“That’s great, Maz,” Poe said, thinking it was not great at all, “but can we get back to the topic at hand? The Resistance needs your help.”
“Yes, you told me.”
But you didn’t seem to hear me, he thought. He needed to get through to her, and he decided brutal honesty was his best bet. “We need a place to hide and regroup. It needs to be outside of prying First Order eyes but able to handle our needs for housing, supplies, communications…”
“Didn’t you say there were only a handful of you left on a single ship? What needs could you have?”
Poe bristled at her callousness. Maybe she had heard him, and she just didn’t care. He hadn’t expected that. “There will be more,” he said hastily. “We’ve got people all over the galaxy, and we’re making new allies all the time. We were hoping you could provide shelter
. And more than that. Leadership. Leia can’t do it alone. We need you to help lead the Resistance.”
“Lead the Resistance? I thought that was your job.”
“I…” Poe frowned, feeling unsettled.
“Expecting me to do your job for you?” she grumbled, now dutifully applying the cream to her neck. “You’re the commander in the room. Or has that changed?”
“Nothing’s changed,” Poe said automatically, but it was a lie, wasn’t it? After the Raddus, everything had changed.
Maz finished shellacking her throat and sat back in her chair, eyes closed. The last attendant had left a steaming pot of tea on the side table, and Maz blindly reached a hand out, found her cup, and lifted it to her lips to take a sip. She set the teacup down. Poe waited patiently for her to speak, but after a moment he could hear light snoring. Had she fallen asleep?
Poe stood up, exasperated. “This was a waste of time. I should go.”
“No!” Her hand closed around his wrist like a vise, all the whimsy fled from her voice as if it had never been there. She cocked one eye open, fixing it on him. He froze.
“Listen closely to me, Poe Dameron,” she said. “You see me like this, and you think me a fool. Good for me, because when an enemy perceives you as foolish or weak, that is when they are most vulnerable in their arrogance. That is when you strike.” She twisted her hand, pulling hard, and his feet flew out from under him. He went down on his back, hard enough that a bellowing breath escaped from his lungs and pain radiated from his tailbone.
Maz was up off her recliner and standing on his chest in seconds. Her eyes, surrounded by the sulfurous skin treatment, were centimeters from his own. She narrowed her gaze, taking him in. Judging. “I see arrogance in you. And that is what gets you in trouble, causes pain.”
He flushed, still thinking of the Raddus. “I learned my lesson,” he spit through gritted teeth.
“Have you?”
“I…” Poe collapsed back, resting his head on the floor. He thought about lying, or at least not telling Maz any more than necessary, but she looked at him like she could see right through him, like she already knew the ugly truth.
“You asked me if I was still a leader,” he started, eyes focused on the ceiling. “The truth is that I don’t know. I-I made some mistakes…”
“Mistakes?” Maz’s tone was scalpel-sharp.
“I led a mutiny,” he confessed. He hadn’t meant to tell her, but there it was. And now that he had begun, he wanted her to know everything. “I didn’t understand what was happening. All I knew was that we were running, when we should have been fighting. I had to do something!”
“Did you? Have to do something?”
He blinked, taken off guard. A moment ago he had wanted to defend himself, to make her see reason or at least understand his reasoning. But suddenly all that fight was gone and reality hit him like a punch to the gut.
“No,” he admitted. “I’m a soldier and she was my commanding officer. All I had to do was trust.” He exhaled, instinctively wanting to sink farther into the floor, to hide from his own dishonor. He looked at her, eyes pleading for…not sympathy. Not even understanding. But something else. A second chance.
Maz made a humming sound. She leaned her head away from him and sat back. She didn’t get off his chest, but at least there was some distance between their faces.
“And now what, Poe Dameron?”
“What?”
“Let’s say you’re right. That your actions, your arrogance, got many people killed. Led the Resistance to where they are now: broken, on the run, destitute, and begging for help.”
He flinched. Opened his mouth to protest her words, but what was there to say besides “I fix it.”
“How will you do that?” she asked. “You can’t bring the dead back. You can’t single-handedly rebuild the Resistance, although—” She snorted, sounding amused. “—if anyone was going to try it would be you.”
“I can bring down the First Order.”
“Alone?”
“If I have to.”
She shook her head. “Arrogance. Still.” She rose up on her knees, looming over him. “You know who else is arrogant? The First Order.”
“The First Order is evil.”
Maz stared at him, lips pursed. She fine-tuned her spectacles, her eyes growing larger behind the magnifying glass. When she spoke, her voice was soft, almost reverent. “I’ve seen evil in many forms, Dameron. The First Order is no worse than the Sith, or the Empire, or countless others who would use the dark side. As always, they must be countered with the light. But…” She climbed off his chest and into the chaise lounge. She removed her glasses and leaned back, covering her eyes with a masque of something slightly furry that had been soaking in a pale-blue liquid on the side table. “I have my own way of fighting. Not everything is about armadas and starfighters, you know.”
Poe sat up, rubbing his lower back. He stared at Maz, thinking how easy it was for her to dismiss him, to not care about the fate of his friends and the people he loved. To her, they were nothing. Is that what happened when you lived a thousand years?
She grunted, as if she could read his thoughts.
“You think I’m callous, but I’m not. You will be fine without me.”
“I sure hope you’re right, lady,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Because if you’re not, me and mine are going to die. And you can sit with that for a thousand more years for all I care.”
His confession had left him scraped raw, feeling exposed but no closer to finding a way to close the wound. And now he had failed again by not convincing Maz to join them. It was all he could do to get to his feet.
Silently, he gathered his things and left. If he had bothered to look back, he might have seen Maz Kanata lifting the corner of her masque to stare intently in his direction, a small smile leaking from her lips.
* * *
—
Poe sat in the cockpit of his borrowed starfighter, primed for takeoff. He’d asked for clearance to depart twice now, and each time the wispy voice on the other side of the communications link had denied him, claiming the airspace was occupied and he needed to stand by. He suspected it was a ruse, but he wasn’t about to go charging blindly forward into the stew-thick atmosphere without clearance. Exasperated, he flipped the transmission switch one more time and asked for clearance to depart.
“Negative, pilot,” said the breathy voice a third time. “You have company.”
Poe looked up through the clear canopy of the cockpit and saw nothing. But then what would he see in this atmosphere? It was like living inside a pastel cloud.
A sudden tap at the viewport to his left and his heart was in his throat. He was fumbling at his belt for a blaster before he realized what he was doing. Big eyes peered at him, and he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to breathe so his heart would stop racing.
“Open up,” Maz said, tapping on the transparisteel again.
Against his better judgment, Poe released the air lock, and the cockpit parted between them.
“There’s something I meant to tell you before you ran off like that,” Maz said, leaning in. “But first, where did you get this ship? It’s a relic.”
“It’s a loaner. I told you we’re down to scrap metal, everything else destroyed. Now what do you want?”
Maz looked around, unperturbed, examining the display console. “It’s a relic, but it’s also a collectible. When you’re done with it, come see me. I might buy it.”
He thought to explain that he had to return it to a very particular Hutt, but decided it wasn’t worth it.
“Maz, what do you want? I’ve got to go.”
She waved his protests away. “We’ve long suspected that the First Order has been taking children and disappearing people on the margins of the galaxy. But things are
escalating now: arresting people on phony trumped-up charges. Small crimes that they’ve blown up into capital offenses, or charges simply fabricated out of nothing. People going missing in the dead of night, their families having no idea what happened to them. Nighttime raids or picked up off the streets and”—Maz made a gesture, spreading her fingers wide—“vanished. And the people most likely to disappear? People with ties to the old rebellion. And interestingly enough, we’re seeing it with some old Imperials, as well. Those who have been outspoken about their distaste for the First Order, but also those who have remained neutral. Anyone who might pose a threat, now or down the line.”
Poe frowned. It was disturbing but didn’t surprise him. The First Order thrived on abusing power. “Do you think that’s what’s happened to Leia’s allies? They’re not answering because they can’t? They’ve been arrested?”
Maz shrugged. “Maybe. Possibly. But the First Order used to do it in secret. Now they don’t bother. They snatch people off the streets and don’t even pretend to have whatever planet they’ve infiltrated hold a sham trial. Just death or labor camps.”
“Labor camps?”
“Someone has to build all those fancy new ships, eh?”
Poe chewed the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. “Thanks, Maz. Leia will want to know about this.”
“Yes, I thought she might. Rumor has it that there’s a list somewhere of all the people they’ve taken. A big list. No one’s seen it, but I’ve got people chasing it down. I hear something definitive, I’ll call you.”
Poe nodded. “Do that.”
“You sure you don’t want to sell this ship?”
“Not mine to sell.”
“A shame.”
Resistance Reborn (Star Wars) Page 4
