Poe Dameron

by Lucasfilm Press

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really,” she said, a light smile on her face as she turned to look at him.

  “Then I’m ready.”

  Poe wasn’t sure if the plan—or orders—Vigilch had shared with them was actually simple or just exceedingly sparse. It was clear to Poe that their leader was hesitant to give too many details to the runts of the group—either out of fear they’d betray him and the organization or because they just weren’t ready to know the plan. Poe hoped it was the latter, but from what little he knew of Vigilch, he had to accept that it was also a bit of the former.

  Zorii looked down at a small datapad in her hand and nodded to herself.

  “Vigilch said the ship is about a kilometer and a half away,” she said. “If these sensors are right, we should cut through this patch of forest and we’ll be there.”

  “But then what?” Poe asked. “We find the ship and pat it gently and say ‘Good job’? Where are the others going?”

  “You ask too many questions.”

  “My sincere apologies,” Poe said. “It’s not like—oh, I don’t know—our lives depend on it? This isn’t exactly Coruscant or some other Core World. If we get lost, we’ll probably end up frozen, and not nearly as tasty as bantha milk ice cream.”

  Zorii didn’t respond, instead moving a few paces ahead of Poe, forcing him to pick up his speed.

  “Doesn’t it bother you that Vigilch won’t even tell us why we’re here?”

  “He’s in charge,” Zorii said, her eyes on her datapad. “His orders come from the top. From Zeva.”

  Zeva—their mysterious, all-knowing leader. The name had come up infrequently during Poe’s brief time with the Spice Runners, and when it did, it faded quickly—as if saying the name and lingering over it would prove unlucky or dangerous. It had the desired effect, Poe thought. He grew anxious at every mention.

  The trees around them thickened, the dense, wooded forest feeling more claustrophobic the farther they wandered in. The visibility was getting worse, the trees obscuring what little bit of sunlight had cracked through the skies. Whatever sliver of serenity he’d felt the night before—after his chat with Zorii—was gone, overwhelmed by a wave of anxiety and fear he couldn’t put his finger on. Vigilch had handed them the datapad and ordered them to find a wayward Spice Runners ship—one they’d been looking for discreetly for months. But then what? Who was on the ship? What were they walking into?

  “There,” Zorii said, making a sharp left turn. “It’s closer than we thought.”

  The small branches jutting out from the crowded forest scratched and poked at Poe’s face and body as he ran to keep up with Zorii, who’d darted off toward a small clearing in the distance. Beyond the opening of the trees, Poe saw a large, metallic pile of…wreckage?

  They both hit the brakes as they reached the edge of the forest, before stepping into the clearing. Poe turned to Zorii. Her expression was wide-eyed and, if Poe was being honest with himself, fearful.

  “What?” Poe asked. “What is it?”

  She didn’t respond. Poe followed her eyes. The pile of metal and debris that rose into the sky had probably once been a ship, Poe thought, but it would never fly again. The damage was so severe—the pieces so disparate and mangled—he couldn’t even guess what kind of class the small cruiser had been. But from Zorii’s expression, he could tell this was not what she—or Vigilch—had been expecting.

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  “What happened here?” Poe asked.

  Zorii started tapping on her datapad, each one landing harder as her frustration and fear increased.

  “Comms are down,” she said. “Someone is running interference.”

  “I’d say that’s not great,” Poe said.

  The blaster shot skated past him, a few centimeters from his face. He jumped back with an embarrassing squeal of fear.

  “That is also not great,” Poe said.

  Zorii drew a blaster, her arm across Poe’s chest, motioning for him to step back into the forest. She turned to look at him for a second.

  “Where’s your blaster?”

  “My blaster?”

  “You don’t have a blaster.”

  “I do not have a blaster.”

  She rummaged through her sack and tossed him a small weapon. He held it gingerly, his other hand rubbing the phantom wound on the right side of his face. So close.

  “Please tell me you know how to use one,” Zorii said as she crouched down, looking past the clearing and toward the wreckage—where the shot had originated.

  “I know how to use one.”

  Zorii shook her head. She looked back at Poe and motioned toward her hand and blaster.

  “You point it, you shoot it,” she said. “Then you do it again. Keep it down if you’re not going to use it. Fire at will if you are. It’s set to stun, so don’t worry too much.”

  Poe nodded.

  Another wave of fire. Zorii and Poe backed farther into the forest as the blaster shots hit the trees. Whoever was shooting didn’t have a clear line on them. For now.

  “They seem upset,” Poe said.

  “Not sure it’s a ‘they,’” Zorii said. She crept closer to the clearing and sent off a few quick shots—hitting the wreckage around the area where the initial fire had come from.

  Zorii stood up. Poe reached for her arm, but she shook it off.

  “What are you doing?” Poe asked. “Are you insane?”

  She stepped into the clearing, her blaster raised. She spoke in a loud, commanding voice that sent a strange chill through Poe’s entire being.

  “If you’ve hurt him,” she said, “you will pay the ultimate price. Show yourself now and we will be merciful.”

  Her words were followed by a low creaking sound and the appearance of a shadowy, unstable figure—blaster raised in the universal sign of surrender.

  Zorii motioned for Poe to follow without looking back. She stepped toward the shape cautiously, blaster drawn and locked on the target. Poe scurried after her, his stance a passable imitation of her own.

  As they approached, the figure stepped out of the shadows. A tall, older man—his face worn and beaten but his air regal and commanding. He looked like he’d seen better days, Poe thought. There was a long gash on his forehead that could use a medpac, and his tailored clothes were torn and smeared with dirt and dust. A muted but relieved smile broke out on his face.

  “My dear Zorii,” the man said. “What a marvelous surprise.”

  Poe watched as Zorii ran to the older man and embraced him. He hadn’t known Zorii Wynn very long—but from that brief period he’d describe her as stoic and distant, with flashes of warmth and a temper. He couldn’t say he’d ever seen her truly happy. Not until now. Poe walked toward them, a confused smile on his face.

  “How is Babu, Tomasso?” Zorii said. “I miss our charming droidsmith.”

  “Skilled as ever,” Tomasso said. “He asked me to send you his very best.”

  Zorii responded with a warm smile.

  Poe was shaken to his core. Not only was Zorii happy, she was mooning over this Babu character. He tried to ignore what he was feeling—jealousy?—but wasn’t having much luck.

  “Is that how you guys say hi? By shooting?” Poe asked. “Seems off.”

  The older man stepped back from Zorii and turned his attention to Poe, a quizzical look on his face.

  “This is Dameron?” he said. “The pilot that got you out of the Yavin system?”

  “That’s me, Poe Dameron,” Poe said. “I’m right here.”

  The man nodded but didn’t extend a hand. He was tall, his face worn and jagged-looking, coated with a coarse white beard though there were only wisps of hair on his head. Zorii spoke, filling what had almost immediately become an awkward pause.

  “Poe, this is Tomasso,” she said. “He’s one of the highest ranking members of the Spice Runners of Kijimi. Second only to our leader, Zeva.”

  She leaned into the man, r
esting her head on his shoulder. Poe felt another pang of jealousy. Not because he thought there was any romantic connection between the two but because Zorii’s affections toward Tomasso seemed so natural and genuine.

  “Nice to meet you,” Poe said with a nod. “Glad we found you in one piece. Though, I gotta say, I didn’t expect to find a top spice runner just hanging out in a pile of scrap metal, all alone.”

  Tomasso sighed.

  “Your humor comes from fear,” he said. “We’ll fix that.”

  He turned to Zorii, placing his hands gently on her shoulders.

  “Tell me you have a ship,” he said. “And that we can get off this tundra immediately.”

  “The Claw is about a kilometer and a half away, through those woods. Vigilch—and Gen Tri and Marinda—are there,” she said, pointing toward their camp. “We’ll take you. Can you walk?”

  “Somewhat,” Tomasso said with a wince. “Though, the last few hours have been—problematic. I am happy to see you, though.”

  Poe scanned the older man’s features. Despite the unexpected discovery of his allies, the spice runner seemed concerned, his expression stricken.

  “What’s wrong?” Poe asked him.

  Tomasso looked at Poe, an eyebrow raised slightly.

  “You’re perceptive,” he said before turning to Zorii. “Let me ask, my dear—are you able to contact Vigilch and the team?”

  Zorii shook her head.

  “Then I fear,” Tomasso said, “it might be too late for all of us.”

  Running was out of the question, Poe realized as they cut through the clearing and into the woods. Tomasso wasn’t in tip-top shape, and Poe doubted the older man could keep up with them even at peak form. But as he was reeling from whatever he’d just been through, the best they could hope for was a meaningful jog. Zorii and Poe stood on either side of Tomasso and took turns looking over their shoulders to see what—or who—was on their trail.

  “It’s the Zualjinn Syndicate, isn’t it?” Zorii asked as they paused at a fallen tree, taking turns climbing over it. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “You are correct, Zorii,” Tomasso said. He didn’t seem out of breath, to Poe’s surprise. Perhaps there was more to the aging criminal than he’d first thought. “Things got a bit out of hand.”

  “Who?” Poe asked.

  “The Zualjinn are spice runners, too—but not as, well, friendly as our crew,” Zorii said, picking up her pace as they made it to the other side of the fallen tree. “They really like shooting over talking.”

  “I was here on a bit of a diplomatic mission,” Tomasso said, taking the lead.

  “Oh?” Poe asked. “Pooling our resources and all that?”

  “Not exactly,” Tomasso said, stopping for a moment. He looked around, then shook his head. Nothing. Whoever was chasing them hadn’t made their presence known. “It was a more complicated endeavor.”

  “Were you successful?” Zorii asked.

  “Very much so,” Tomasso said. “Too successful, I’d wager.”

  “You did such a great job that the Zualjinn destroyed your ship and left you for dead?” Poe asked.

  “They did seem rather upset I eliminated their high commander, yes,” Tomasso said, his tone casual and dismissive. “I guess their expectations were more—conciliatory in nature.”

  Tomasso’s words froze every muscle in Poe’s body for a split second. Before he could say anything else, the elder spice runner was motioning for them to continue.

  Zorii noticed Poe’s blank expression as they continued their brisk walk through the forest. She gripped his arm tightly. When he didn’t react to that, she grabbed his face and turned it toward her.

  “Poe, look at me,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  “I—I think so,” Poe said. He wasn’t all right, though. He knew that. But there was no time to process it. Not yet.

  “Then act like it,” she said, letting go and darting ahead.

  Tomasso looked at Poe, as if noticing the young pilot for the first time.

  “She’s a complicated woman,” he said. “And this is a complicated world you’ve entered, my friend. Best to keep that in mind.”

  Poe nodded. He wasn’t sure what kind of response the older pirate wanted. But he was spared from having to give one. As they neared the end of the stretch of trees and what should have been their camp, they were startled by the violent sound of blasters—forcing them to approach with greater caution. When they entered the clearing, they were met not by their allies, waiting for them to board the Claw and escape—but by a bloody firefight.

  Poe couldn’t make out what was going on—not the full picture. But he did see enough to know their side was losing. The Zualjinn—or the people Poe presumed were the Zualjinn—were tall, spindly figures covered in dark, tattered rags and tunics, their faces hidden by faded silver helmets. And there were a lot of them—at least a dozen—each armed with a blaster rifle and firing at will.

  Huddled next to the Claw were Vigilch, Gen Tri, and Marinda Gan—returning fire as best they could but clearly outnumbered and stalling for time. Poe started to run toward his teammates but was stopped by Tomasso—his arm blocking the way.

  “They haven’t noticed us yet,” Tomasso said, looking from Poe to Zorii. “That gives us an advantage. A slight one.”

  Zorii nodded, her blaster ready.

  “The forest winds around the clearing,” she said, motioning toward the expansive stretch of trees and woods.

  “We go around and blindside them,” Poe said, picking up on her suggestion.

  “And we pick them off,” Tomasso said with a nod. “Zorii—you take their left flank with young Poe. I will approach from the other side.”

  Zorii started to move almost immediately, leaving Poe a half step behind as Tomasso went in the other direction. Poe’s body ached. He was scratched and bruised from the rough terrain, and the weight of what they were spiraling into seemed to be settling on his shoulders, slowing his movements and thoughts. But he had to keep up. Zorii wasn’t going to wait, and there was no other way off this frigid planet.

  The sound of blaster fire echoed through the dense forest as they retraced their steps, then veered right, away from the path that would have led them back to where they’d found Tomasso. Zorii’s movements were quick and focused, as if she’d run through the snow-caked terrain a thousand times instead of just one. Poe did his best to match Zorii’s pace. They stopped about a meter from the rear side of the Claw, the battle still raging.

  “You knew we were coming for him,” Poe said.

  “What?”

  “Tomasso,” Poe said. “You knew that’s why we were here.”

  Zorii didn’t answer. She turned her attention to the Zualjinn spice runners closing in on the Claw.

  “We’re never going to outblast them,” she said.

  Poe started to respond, but Zorii cut him off.

  “Drop it, Poe,” she said. “Yes, it’s true—I knew that’s why we were here. But now isn’t the time to complain about not being looped in. We need to save our ship—and our crew. We need a distraction.”

  Poe picked up his blaster and pointed it at Zorii with a smile.

  “I think I’ve got one.”

  “Hey, hey, guys?” Poe’s voice sliced through the sounds of blaster fire and battle.

  The handful of Zualjinn Syndicate members turned to face the two figures stepping out of the forest—one with a blaster pointed at the head of the other.

  “You will not believe what I found running around in those woods back there,” Poe said, motioning his head toward Zorii, who sported a defiant expression. Poe’s blaster rested calmly on the side of her head, his other arm wrapped around her neck.

  “Identify yourself, stranger,” one of the Zualjinn said.

  The various etchings and engravings on his helmet made it different from the blank headgear the others wore. The leader, Poe thought.

  “Poe—what are you doing?”
Vigilch screamed across the clearing, the spice runner’s voice booming over the whipping wind. “Have you gone mad?”

  “Just playin’ the averages, pal, sorry,” Poe said with a shrug. “This spice runner thing isn’t for me.” A voice in the back of his head observed that he was in fact telling the truth with those last words, but he ignored it. “And hey, I think our friends here in the winter gear might be able to get me on a ship back home. Right, guys? I mean, I know where Tomasso is. That’s who you’re after?”

  Zorii struggled in Poe’s grasp, his arm tightening and pulling her closer. He brought his mouth close to her ear for a moment.

  “The elbow to my stomach was a bit too real,” Poe said.

  “Just playing my part,” Zorii said through gritted teeth as she tried to pull herself from Poe’s grasp.

  The lead Zualjinn stepped toward Poe, blaster rifle trained on them.

  “Your man, Tomasso, betrayed our trust,” he said. “The Zualjinn Syndicate will not be fooled twice.”

  He motioned toward Poe and Zorii with his free arm and the Zualjinn soldiers shifted their attention from the cornered Spice Runners to Poe. Poe, pulling Zorii with him, took a few cautious steps back.

  “I get it, I get it, you’ve been burned before,” Poe said. “But I’m your path to getting your hands on Tomasso and evening the odds, all right? I need a way out of this whole spice runner thing, and—”

  “Enough,” the lead Zualjinn said, his voice firm. The Zualjinn Syndicate was not known as a diplomatic organization, Zorii had told Poe. They tended to shoot first, then shoot again.

  The leader stepped closer to Poe and Zorii. Out of the corner of Poe’s eye, he saw motion near the Claw’s boarding ramp. Just a few more moments, he thought.

  The Zualjinn leader stepped closer to Poe, their faces centimeters apart. Poe could see past the syndicate member’s helmet to his scarred humanoid face—red eyes glowing in the darkness.

  “You think this is some kind of game, boy?” he said. “You can just have a laugh and save the day?”

  Poe felt the blaster rifle press into his midsection. Zorii wasn’t squirming anymore. She’d stepped away from Poe now that their ruse had been revealed. Their eyes met briefly and her expression screamed, What now?