Poe ignored the comment. They had more important things to deal with. They were in deep trouble, and no matter how quickly he tried to work out a solution, he knew it was pointless. They were out of luck.
“Any ideas?” Zorii asked. “We’re still in a pretty dense gravity shadow—we couldn’t jump to lightspeed if we wanted to, unless we override the system.”
Poe could hear Vigilch scampering behind them, the nervous pacing doing little to stave off their impending capture. Then his eyes widened. Could it work? Poe wondered. It would have to.
Poe turned to Zorii.
“Can you open a comm channel with that ship?” Poe said. “I have an idea.”
“If you want Poe Dameron to live, you will let us pass,” Zorii said, her tone gruff and defiant. The rest of the crew huddled around her seat as Poe looked on. “This point is not negotiable. Continue your aggression and we will be forced to eliminate the boy, and will do it without hesitation.”
Static and silence followed. The moments stretched on for what seemed like days but couldn’t have been more than a minute. Poe could hear his own breath.
“This isn’t going to work,” Vigilch muttered, stepping back from the control panel and pacing around the ship’s small cockpit again. He couldn’t get a few steps without bumping into something or someone. “We’ll have to shoot first. That’s our only chance of escape.”
“We’re outgunned, severely,” Marinda Gan said, turning her head quickly to face their leader. Her look was loaded with contempt. “Is it worth getting the first shot off if you’re just going to be overwhelmed after? Why don’t you let the girl do…what she’s meant to do?”
Gen Tri shot Marinda an uncharacteristically sharp glance. She didn’t respond. Vigilch shook his head as if to say, Fine, we’ll see how this plays.
“Where can we retrieve Dameron?” the NRSB officer said, each word slow and pained as it came through the speaker. “How do we know you’ll keep him alive?”
Zorii didn’t hesitate, her response prepped and polished.
“We’ll drop him somewhere in the Sawaya system,” she said, her words coming across casually, as if she was asking for an extra portion at dinner. “You have our word.”
“The Sawaya system?” The NRSB officer sounded incredulous. “There are almost a dozen inhabitable planets. It could take—”
Zorii didn’t back down. The ruse was all they had. “That is our final offer,” she said, the casual air gone, her voice clear and tinged with menace. “We are prepared to die if these terms are not accepted.”
Poe watched her closely, his heart in his throat. Who was this girl—this woman—who could so casually toss aside all their lives, who knew how to outmaneuver a seasoned New Republic officer, who remained cool and collected while her crew of miscreants and criminals hemmed and hawed? Poe thought he was fairly tough for his age—having dealt with his share of tragedy and knowing his own parents had fought valiantly for the New Republic. Where did this Zorii Wynn come from?
The response from the opposing ship was brief, but it took all their willpower to not whoop and holler with victory as the words filtered through.
“You may proceed.”
Poe flicked the comm off hastily before anyone on the other end could somehow sense the smile forming on his face. He slowly steered the Claw out of orbit and away from Yavin 4. He turned to face Zorii.
“That was something else,” he said, his body humming with excitement. “You saved our butts.”
“You did, actually,” she said, her smile slight, as if things like this happened every day for her. Perhaps they did, Poe mused. “Tricking them into thinking you’d been kidnapped—that was sharp. And you performed some fancy footwork getting us off the surface. Looks like you are a good pilot, after all.”
“Could use a copilot,” Poe said, nodding toward her seat. “You seem to fit the bill. Maybe you can show me some of those spice runner tricks in exchange?”
“Something tells me you’re no stranger to being a scoundrel, Poe Dameron,” she said, her smile widening for a split second, an unexpected warmth in her eyes. “But it’s a deal.”
The dense swamp planet Sorgan was the only inhabitable rock in an otherwise forgettable system nestled deep in the Outer Rim. Known for little more than being a marker on the way to something more notable, Sorgan was underdeveloped—a mostly agrarian culture with minimal planetary governance and an even smaller native population—making it a perfect pit stop for the Spice Runners of Kijimi. At least that was what Poe assumed.
“Here we are,” Poe announced to his new teammates as the Ragged Claw dropped out of hyperspace. “Home, sweet temporary home.”
Poe didn’t turn around, but he felt Vigilch looming over him. Their leader had seemed restless during the journey. Was he put off by how they had managed to get off Yavin 4? That he hadn’t had a direct hand in solving the problem? Poe had no idea. He was still unsure where he stood with all of them. He hadn’t even known they were spice runners until he’d boarded the ship and committed himself to escaping Yavin 4. Zorii had misled him about who they were. Poe wasn’t just high-flying with some shady smugglers, but teaming up with an actual criminal network. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he had no one to talk to about it. His “teammates” were barely that.
Gen Tri was mostly silent and mysterious, and when they spoke, it was to either Zorii or Vigilch. Marinda Gan was friendlier—the Twi’lek seemed lively and excited to be on the way to the next thing. But that boisterousness masked something darker that Poe couldn’t fully see, like a fyrnock lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. And then there was Zorii. Like Marinda, she and Poe were close in age, but Zorii talked and moved like a woman twice as old. Mature, confident, world-weary. What had Zorii Wynn experienced? Where did she stand? The questions had danced around his head for the entire trip as he tried to navigate the ship and maintain his own external cool. There was only one way to find out the truth, he figured, and he had little choice in the matter anyway.
“Temporary?” Vigilch barked as Poe brought the ship down on Sorgan’s clouded surface. The Claw jostled noticeably, Vigilch straining to maintain his posture before continuing. “What makes you think that, pup?”
Poe ignored the insult and made sure the ship was settled before he spun his seat around.
“I mean, Sorgan? This place is more boring than Yavin Four. I don’t think anyone—even a space cartographer—can find this rock on a map,” he said. “We’re just making time before we hit up Kijimi, right?”
He could have sworn he heard Gen Tri cackle, but the sound resembled a snarl mixed with a sneeze. They didn’t meet Poe’s eyes.
Vigilch shrugged and moved out of the cockpit, evidently feeling the conversation had resolved itself. Poe turned his seat around and rapped his fingers near Zorii’s copilot station. She looked up, uninterested in the exchange with Vigilch.
“So, what about it?” Poe asked.
“What?”
“What about Kijimi?”
“What about it, Poe?” Zorii asked, impatient. Her mood could veer from warm and friendly to frigid and disinterested in moments, it seemed.
“You’re the Spice Runners of Kijimi, right?” Poe said. “So why don’t we just head there? Isn’t that where we set up shop? Forgive me, I’m new to this smugg—spice running thing.”
Zorii furrowed her brow, her expression a blend of surprise and disdain.
“Kijimi isn’t for just anyone, hotshot.” The final word left Zorii’s mouth with some added heat. “You wouldn’t last a second there if you weren’t under Spice Runners protection.”
“Well, I mean, aren’t I?”
“Not yet. Don’t kid yourself,” Zorii said, a slight tilt to her head. The rest of the crew was beginning to disembark, leaving them alone on the ship. “You got us here, great. We appreciate that. You showed some real smarts out there. But what do you think we do, Poe? Just fly around having wild, fancy-free adventures?”
&n
bsp; Poe didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what he thought. He had just wanted to experience not being on Yavin 4. Not answering to his father or hearing L’ulo regale him with stories about his parents that he could never experience himself. He wanted something different and new. And now he was trapped. He had no means to survive on his own, and nowhere to go. He was or soon would be a fugitive in the eyes of Yavin 4 and the New Republic. Poe had to think fast if he wanted to find a way out of this mess, but the plans weren’t coming together. All he could dwell on was what he’d left behind—and the damage his hasty exit had caused. What was his dad thinking? That Poe had been kidnapped? By whom? Who had Poe just entrusted his life to?
“This isn’t the space circus, Poe,” Zorii said, shaking her head and letting out a quick, clipped laugh. “This is something else. Something real and important that you have to feel in your blood. You have to not only want to be here, you have to sacrifice everything to be here. This is your life now. Nothing else matters because nothing else came before, okay? If you want to be one of us, one of us has to be all you are—or ever will be.”
Poe’s throat tightened. His fingers froze over the Ragged Claw’s controls. His eyes, locked on Zorii’s, went dry. Poe’s head spun as he tried to remain focused—on the ship, on Zorii, on what was next. But what was next? He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d made a terrible mistake, and he couldn’t avoid the question that pulsed through his mind like a siren’s call:
What have you done, Poe Dameron?
“How are you feeling?”
Zorii Wynn’s words cut through the silence of the camp, the solid black that coated the Outer Rim planet Quintil’s cloudy sky, giving her young voice an ethereal, distant quality.
They’d come to the frigid rock under mysterious circumstances. Vigilch, who was snoring in his sleepsack on the edge of their rudimentary camp, had shared little of their mission with Zorii and Poe—which Poe assumed was by design. He was the new kid, he realized, and Zorii—for all her experience and passion—was at the bottom of the crew’s hierarchy. Poe had piloted the Ragged Claw onto the planet as covertly as possible, unsure as to why they were being so secretive—especially when the planet they were approaching seemed lifeless. But upon landing, Vigilch had been clear with Poe and the rest of the team: They would set out on their mission in the morning. Be ready. No questions.
“Feeling?” Poe asked. “What do you mean?”
He heard Zorii’s dry chuckle but couldn’t see her—though he knew she was nearby, if not next to him. They’d set up their camp in the dark, the only light coming from the white, snow-coated ground. A light that was long gone, the last flickers of Quintil’s sun a distant memory.
“Not everything is doublespeak, Poe,” she said, keeping her voice to a low whisper. “Even in our business. I mean, how are you doing?”
“I’m good, I’m great,” Poe said, reflexively.
The truth was very different. It had been a few weeks since he’d piloted the Claw off Yavin 4 and left his life behind. If he was being honest with himself, he was still reeling from the move—one born of impetus and emotion but fraught with real, concrete consequences Poe was not yet ready to accept.
His early days with the Spice Runners had added details to the little Poe had known about the group before their encounter on Yavin 4. Though he wasn’t an expert, he’d learned a fair share about them, and from where they’d sprung. The collapse of the Empire had created a seismic shake-up in the galactic criminal underworld. The battle for Kessel spice had become chaotic, with various gangs vying for a hold on the market. Processing terminals like Obah Diah and Formos that had once boasted Imperial Mining Guild protection were now easy targets—and forced to fend for themselves. Enter the Spice Runners of Kijimi.
They specialized in striking and seizing transport ships that managed to emerge from the chaos of the spice trade. Over time, the band of spice runners worked out their own, independent partnership with the mine operators, becoming an exclusive pipeline for Kessel spice that reached all the way to Kijimi, and was still growing.
A dry laugh pulled Poe back to the moment.
“You’re a liar,” Zorii said. Poe heard a rustling sound. She was rolling over, turning her back to him.
“Why do you do this?” Poe asked, unsure where the words came from. “Why’d you join the Spice Runners?”
Poe was only sure that he felt a longing, a need to connect with someone other than himself. The Yavin 4 settlement was relatively small and consisted mostly of professionals, traders, and New Republic officials—in short, not a lot of people Poe’s age. It had become normal to Poe to not have anyone his age to talk to, so much so that he didn’t really think on it much until now, as he got to know Zorii. That longing came into focus as he sat alone in the freezing darkness of a strange world he’d never heard of until a few hours before.
“I asked you first,” she said, her voice muffled by her sleepsack.
“Didn’t realize we were having a formal debate,” Poe said, a spark of defiance in his voice. “Why don’t you tell me, then? How am I feeling?”
Zorii rolled back over. He couldn’t see her but knew her eyes were on him.
“That’s easy. You miss your family,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She was right. “You don’t trust anyone. You’re questioning whether you did the right thing. You’re homesick, too.”
“It was time for me to go,” Poe said, his defenses still up. “I needed a change.”
“Those two things can exist at the same time,” Zorii said. “You can love your family and still want to be far from them.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “Sounds like you’re talking from personal experience.”
Zorii waited a moment before responding, her words coming out methodically.
“My life…is complicated,” she said. “But yes, I love my family. My mother. I just don’t see them often. It’s been a long time. That’s okay.”
“What are they like?”
“Difficult,” Zorii said, her tone flat. “My mother in particular. They have big expectations. I have a lot to live up to. It’s…hard. I try not to think about it all the time. What about you? What are your parents like?”
“My parents were…well, my mom is gone,” Poe said, straining to find the right words.
“Oh,” Zorii said. “I’m sorry…. I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s fine,” Poe said. “It’s been a while.”
“That can’t help much,” Zorii said, her words pensive and lingering. “She’s your mother.”
“They’re good people. They fought for the rebellion,” Poe said. “My dad, he’s tough. Very set in his ways. He cares for me, but…almost too much. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” she said. “Perfectly.”
“I had to leave Yavin. I had to try something else,” Poe said. He felt lighter—as if an anchor had been lifted from his chest. “But I know he’s hurt. He’d strangle me if he saw me.”
Zorii laughed—a free, musical sound that seemed at odds with the stoic, steely exterior Poe had come to know. He liked the sound.
“I know what that’s like,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” she said. “And it’s nice to know I’m not…well, I’m not alone here.”
“Yeah,” Poe said. “I don’t know if I could keep going without someone to talk to.”
“Good,” Zorii said. “Now you’re stuck with me.”
“There are worse fates in the galaxy, I guess.”
“I dunno,” she said with a quick laugh.
After a few moments of silence, she spoke again.
“Look—don’t worry so much, Poe,” she said. He imagined her wide eyes locked on his and felt a warm comfort wash over him. “Get some sleep. It sounds like tomorrow will be a busy day. You’ll be fine.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes,” she said, the humor in her voice gone. “I promise.”
Poe wasn’t sure why he r
eached his hand out into the darkness. He didn’t know Zorii Wynn. But he didn’t know anyone in his life, not anymore. And of the people he’d come into contact with since leaving Yavin 4’s orbit, she’d been the only member of their ragtag group to show any speck of concern for his well-being. Part of it was their lot—they were both inexperienced and new to the Spice Runners organization, so it made sense for them to be working together, handling the grunt work, comparing notes. But Poe felt like there was something else there. A kinship he couldn’t yet wrap his head around but still managed to take comfort in. Poe Dameron needed a friend, and Zorii Wynn was the closest thing to that.
He felt a soft hand grip his, their fingers interlacing naturally. Her palm was warm, which was nice on his cold fingers. It seemed natural and intimate, but still new and exciting. A crackle of nervous energy shot up his arm. He leaned his head back and looked up into the black sky.
For the first time since he’d boarded the Ragged Claw, he felt at peace.
It would be quite a while before he felt that way again.
“No more questions,” Vigilch barked. “That’s all you need to know. Now find that wreckage so we can get off this planet.”
The gruff Klatooinian stormed off toward the Claw, leaving Poe and Zorii to exchange glances. Poe could feel Gen Tri and Marinda Gan watching them from a few meters away. It was barely morning—the Quintilian sun just peeking through the dense clouds that coated the entirety of the ice planet—but they’d been up for some time. Vigilch had roused them each with a rough shove, shouting orders and quickly shutting down the makeshift camp they’d created upon landing. The life of a spice runner was anything but luxurious, Poe had soon realized.
“Why do we need to find this ship?” Poe asked as he followed Zorii toward the edge of their encampment. “I mean, would it kill the guy to give us a little more info here?”
“He gave us what we need to know,” Zorii said, not looking at Poe as she walked briskly toward a densely forested area. “Are you ready?”
Poe Dameron Page 5
