Poe Dameron

by Lucasfilm Press

  The other Zualjinn soldiers were making their way toward Poe and Zorii, weapons drawn. Poe saw a small contingent of three or four still stationed near Vigilch, Marinda Gan, and Gen Tri. He didn’t hear any blasting—so they were either dead or disabled. Poe hoped for the latter.

  The thought of his new comrades dying suddenly stuck with Poe and tapped into a greater, darker feeling—a sense that he was in way over his head—and the thrill of hopping aboard a strange ship to explore the galaxy was being replaced by a much more dangerous reality.

  “Answer me,” the leader spat, poking Poe with his weapon again, spittle flying out of his helmet. “Or will I have to teach you how to truly fear us?”

  Poe waited another beat. Surely Tomasso had reached the Claw by now, he thought.

  “He didn’t make it,” Zorii said, a whispered defeat only Poe could here.

  “I don’t think you need to teach me,” Poe said, trying to step away. His back slammed into another Zualjinn gunman, who grunted in response. Poe raised his hands. “All right, all right, you got me—don’t I get some kind of pass for creativity?”

  The Zualjinn leader raised the handle of his rifle to swing at Poe—but before he could complete the action, a commotion behind him drew his attention. He spun around. Poe and Zorii turned, as well. Something was happening on the Claw. A shock of hope shot through Poe—then faded as quickly as it had appeared. As he watched—a Zualjinn soldier stepped down from the Claw dragging an unwilling figure with him. The defiant figure was bloodied and beaten. It took Poe a moment to look past the bruising and recognize the man who’d been on the wrong side of the Zualjinn.

  “Tomasso,” Zorii said. “No…”

  The Zualjinn leader turned around to face Zorii and Poe. Even with the helmet covering most of his face, Poe was certain the syndicate member was smiling.

  “A valiant effort, but a failed one,” he said before waving an arm toward the bulk of his men. “Gather them up. We got what we came for.”

  The order was followed by a series of loud, rage-fueled cheers.

  Poe looked at Zorii.

  “That can’t be good.”

  “That was a foolish ruse, Dameron,” Vigilch said, his voice seething with anger. “You’re not invincible, boy. Now look at us.”

  Vigilch swung his large tan arm across the small holding cell. The whole team was packed into the fetid, small space—with only one seat in the far corner, which had been reserved for the ailing Tomasso. The Zualjinn had not been gentle with the high-ranking spice runner, and Poe imagined whatever final fate they had in mind for them would be even worse.

  “You really think they would’ve been much kinder to us if I hadn’t tried something?” Poe said. He was tired. Weary. He’d taken a risk, sure—but he wasn’t sure he’d had much choice. “It didn’t look like you three were doing much else aside from getting shot at.”

  “Your impudence doesn’t become you,” Gen Tri said, their voice hollow. They stood next to Tomasso, who was hunched in the small chair, hands clutching his midsection. “Remember that you are but a novice in our ways. This is not some colonial game.”

  Poe ignored Gen Tri’s jab and walked toward the opposite side of the small room, his back to the rest of the group. They’d been in the cell—which seemed more like a half-finished structure or cave, in terms of technology and amenities—for a few hours at least. Though it certainly felt like longer. They were all bruised or injured in some way. A few Zualjinn guards stood sentry outside of the room’s single doorway. After multiple attempts to communicate with the guards, Poe learned they weren’t keen on talking.

  “He did the right thing,” Zorii said. “You all know that.”

  Poe turned around. Zorii was standing behind him, facing the group. Her fists were clenched and she looked like a cornered, feral tooka cat. To Poe’s surprise, the group seemed taken aback. Why were they so passive with her? Wasn’t Zorii as low on the Spice Runners ladder as Poe?

  “You were outnumbered, and it was only a matter of time before the Zualjinn took us all prisoner,” she continued. “Was Poe’s plan perfect? Of course not. But did it buy us some time? Yes. You should be praising him. Instead, you’re taking out the anger you feel over being captured on him, when you should really turn it on yourselves. He’s been a spice runner for less than a month. What’s your excuse?”

  Marinda Gan broke the awkward silence, her posture defiant.

  “This all means nothing if we die on this planet,” she said. “They have our weapons. They have our ship. We’re locked up. What now? Do you have another great idea, little Poe?”

  Poe had tried to be patient, to be aware of his role with the Spice Runners—in short, undefined and of little importance—but he’d had enough. If he was going to die there, on a frozen planet on the fringes of the galaxy, surrounded by strangers—criminals!—with little chance of escape, he was going to defend himself at least.

  He opened his mouth to speak but fell silent. Tomasso’s hand was raised slightly, not so much a call for attention as an alert to the group.

  “Let’s discuss this later,” Tomasso said, his voice sounding haggard and frail. “Now is not the time.”

  “Then when?” Marinda Gan said, defiant. “Do you think we’ll even be getting out of here alive? You’re insane, old man.”

  Tomasso closed his eyes, as if he was fighting off a painful headache. Zorii clutched Poe’s hand in hers as the old pirate spoke.

  “Oh, I think we’ll be out of here soon,” Tomasso said, a soft smile appearing on his face. “Imminently, even.”

  Before Poe could think to look at Zorii, the entire room shook as a massive explosion rocked the building.

  Poe tried to open his eyes. He was dizzy. Every part of his body felt heavy, as if weighed down by shackles.

  When he did manage to get his eyes open, they stung from dust and debris. He could see Zorii looking down on him, her own eyes awash with worry.

  “Poe, get up—you have to try to move,” she said. He felt someone behind him, firm hands sliding under his arms and lifting him.

  “This is our chance. We have to go.”

  It was Vigilch. He started to remember. The Zualjinn. The cell. An explosion. But there were more people in the space—or what used to be the space—three Kyuzo in particular he hadn’t seen before. The shortest of the three stepped forward.

  “We’ve carved out a path to your ship, but we don’t have much time,” she said, looking at Tomasso, who seemed refreshed somehow.

  “Thank you, Zatticha,” Tomasso said as the Kyuzo spun around and made their way out of the destroyed holding cell. “Zorii, can he walk?”

  “I—I think…” she started.

  “I’m fine,” Poe said, wincing as he stepped forward, trying his best to hide it. Vigilch, Marinda Gan, and Gen Tri exited next, with Zorii, Tomasso, and Poe not far behind.

  As he hobbled out of the wreckage, Poe saw a number of fallen Zualjinn—some unconscious, others much worse off, their orange blood standing out against the pristine Quintil snow. It took him a second to realize what he was seeing at first, but it soon sent him into a dizzy spell he had to strain to fight off.

  “Are you all right?” Zorii asked, trying to keep Poe steady. “We have to go. We don’t have much time.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine—don’t worry,” Poe lied. The look on Zorii’s face told him she could see through his bravado. “Let’s go.”

  She wrapped an arm around Poe’s shoulders and led him into the snow-coated expanse.

  “I’ve got you, Poe Dameron.”

  “We’ve got company, folks,” Poe said, scanning the Ragged Claw’s display at his station. He squinted, trying to focus despite the throbbing pain in his forehead. “And they don’t seem happy.”

  “Three ships—Zualjinn,” Marinda Gan said at her terminal behind Poe and Zorii. “Coming in hot.”

  The Twi’lek mercenary’s eyes were locked on Vigilch, who despite being below Tomasso in the Spice Runners
of Kijimi hierarchy, was still the captain of the ship—at least in her view.

  The Zualjinn ships were small and fast—they’d quickly overcome whatever lead the Claw had gained through the element of surprise.

  “If they catch us, we’re in real trouble,” Zorii said as she tapped a few buttons on her terminal. “Can we jump yet?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Marinda said, her voice booming across the bridge. “Prelim scans show we’ve got a tracker on us. They’ll follow us all over the galaxy as long as this thing’s working.”

  Poe shook his head.

  “Tracker?” Poe asked, turning to Zorii. “How’d that happen?”

  “It’s basic protocol when you capture a ship you think might make a hasty exit—like we’re doing here,” Zorii said, not looking up from her terminal. “They probably placed it while we were held prisoner.”

  “So we can’t jump?” Poe asked, his mind racing through the few options the Claw had left. He felt wrecked—his body still recovering from the explosion that got them free of the Zualjinn. His reflexes felt sluggish. He had to get it together, or risk hurting their chances of survival. “We’re stuck here?”

  “We could, sure, but they’ll be right behind us,” Zorii said. “It’d only delay the inevitable. We either turn around and fight, or we come up with something else—very fast.”

  Poe felt Tomasso’s hand on his shoulder as the aging spice runner looked past him. The man’s slow, steady breathing seemed out of place in such a tense moment, but Poe found a bit of solace in it.

  “We will not have the benefit of our Kyuzo comrades if we’re captured again,” Tomasso said. “It was sheer luck they were nearby when I sent out my distress call. Even luckier they owed me a favor. But I think there’s a solution here.”

  “I’m all ears,” Poe said, his eyebrows popping up in anticipation. “Because it doesn’t feel like we have much time.”

  Tomasso turned to Marinda. Unlike the fiery Twi’lek, the old pirate gave off an air of ease and serenity that felt almost jarring under the circumstances.

  “Any word on the tracker?”

  “Still trying to pin it down,” Marinda Gan said, shaking her head. “It’s going to be a moment.”

  “They’re firing on us,” Gen Tri said. They hovered behind Vigilch and didn’t have a set terminal. Poe wasn’t really sure how they were getting the information—but the ship’s sudden lurch forward confirmed it. Poe braced himself as the ship spun out.

  “Gonna level out in a second,” Poe said, trying his best to pull the ship out of its tailspin. “Hyperdrive’s still intact, but shields are acting moody. All suggestions welcome, folks.”

  “Return fire,” Vigilch said, slamming his fist on his seat. It was both an act of defiant rage and frustration. Everyone was coming up short.

  Poe watched as Zorii tapped a few keys on her display, starting a futile return volley. Her expression was blank, but Poe could sense a growing resignation among the crew.

  “Tomasso, what’s the plan here? You said you had a solution?” Poe asked. His words came out fast and sharp. Time was running out. “What’ve you got?”

  “Are you familiar with hyperspace skipping, Poe Dameron?” Tomasso asked.

  Poe almost said yes, scared of seeming ignorant in front of Tomasso. But now wasn’t the time to protect his ego.

  “No, but if it’s something I can learn in the next ten seconds, I’m open to it,” Poe said, turning to his terminal briefly to veer around an unexpected wave of debris. “What can I do?”

  “Zorii?” Tomasso asked, looking toward the other terminal. “You probably know the specifics better than I do.”

  “It’s risky,” Zorii said, her voice grim. “But it can buy us some time until Marinda can pinpoint that tracker. Basically, we hyperspace jump along a series of preset coordinates. They’re supposed to seem random to the ships on our tail, but they’re not. We’re dragging the Zualjinn along with us, to dangerous places we know—”

  “And they don’t—so they get jammed up and we can keep running,” Poe said with a nod. “That’s how we shake them off. Got it.”

  “That’s the idea,” Tomasso said. “At the very least, it buys us some time to track down and dismantle this cursed device.”

  “Can you do it, Poe?” Zorii asked, looking at him directly, the ship shaking around them. “It won’t work without a good pilot. It’s going to be even harder for you—since you don’t know what’s waiting for us at these locations.”

  “I’ve got this, don’t worry about me,” Poe said, the shrug of his shoulder confident and flip. But he knew very well he didn’t have a handle on it. Not yet. But that was something he’d have to work out on his own. “Let’s go.”

  “How hard did you get hit on the head, pup?” Vigilch said, stepping toward the front of the ship and interrupting Poe. “This is not a time for stupid bravado.”

  “Leave him be, Vigilch,” Tomasso said, stepping toward Poe, subtly telling the Klatooinian to back off with a simple movement. “It’s Poe’s moment. We haven’t much time.”

  “I’m sending you the locations through the navicomputer,” Zorii said, glancing at Poe. “That’s your road map—wish I had more info I could give you. Have you done anything like this before?”

  “Not, well—not directly, no,” Poe stammered. He felt the entire crew’s eyes on him. “But I’ll do my best.”

  “Even with the coordinates Zorii is sending to you, Poe, this is not a simple matter of punching them in and moving on to the next location,” Tomasso said, keeping his voice calm. “As you’ve surely guessed by now. We need you to not only get us to each jump, but get us through them—surviving whatever unexpected hurdles appear, in the hopes that our pursuers are not as…adept as you are.”

  “Get me the path and I’ll get us through it,” Poe said, trying to sound confident. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

  The ship shook again—reeling from another flurry of fire. Poe gripped the sides of his terminal to stay in place. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, residual damage from their escape. He winced, trying to push himself past the sensation and focus on the job in front of him. He spun his seat around and looked at Vigilch and Tomasso, who were still recovering their footing.

  “Okay, I’ve got the coordinates. If we’re gonna do something, we need to do it now,” Poe said. “Marinda, any update on that tracker?”

  “I’ve located it, but that’s only half the battle,” she said. “We need to dismantle it. The Zualjinn are known for their impenetrable tech.”

  “Gen Tri, help Marinda with the tracker—we’re dead no matter how many jumps we take if that thing is still screaming our location to the Zualjinn,” Vigilch said through gritted teeth. “We need more time. More time.”

  “I’ll buy you some time, but not a lot,” Poe said. Whatever hesitation had been in his voice moments before was gone—replaced with a steely determination he hadn’t been sure existed within him. “We good to go, folks?”

  Tomasso nodded. That was all Poe needed. He turned back to his terminal. Before he started the ship’s first jump, he glanced at Zorii. She was looking back—as if she’d been waiting for him to turn toward her.

  “You can do this,” she said, no hint of sarcasm or humor in her voice. Zorii Wynn was dead serious. “We’re with you. I’m with you.”

  Poe nodded. He took a few quick breaths. The intel Zorii had sent his way was clear, but very basic—a few locations, few details about where they were going, exactly. What was clear were the risks attached to skipping through hyperspace. A bad jump could leave the Ragged Claw in the middle of an asteroid storm or someone else’s firefight, even if they knew where they were heading. It would certainly put undue strain on the old ship, raising the potential for the cruiser to literally fall apart mid-jump. But Poe didn’t have any alternatives. They had to keep jumping until that tracker was gone.

  “Here we go,” Poe said.

  SHUNT.

  The Ragge
d Claw stalled painfully as it came out of hyperspace, the entire ship spinning uncontrollably—a loud, scratching creak emanating from the core of the vessel. Poe scrambled to get a sense of where they were. The power and lights flickered.

  “Asteroids, incoming—it’s like a wall, not sure how we can—” Zorii said, a frantic undercurrent to her words. “I’m working as fast as I—”

  “They’re still on us,” Marinda Gan said. “Incoming.”

  “No progress on the tracker,” Gen Tri said, their voice sounding like a distant echo. “We haven’t had enough time to tinker with the device. It’s—”

  Poe didn’t wait for more.

  SHUNT.

  The ship was stalling, Poe realized—stopping, starting, groaning with each command. The display was dark, too, everyone desperately tapping their terminals to figure out where the systems stood—and what was in store.

  “Any sign of the Zualjinn?” Poe said, yelling across the screeching and thumping sounds that were part of the vessel’s new, anguished vocabulary. “If we don’t have the tracker settled, I think we can get a few more jumps out of this bucket of—”

  The display screen crackled to life, and what Poe saw wasn’t open space—there was no black background flecked with the white of distant planets and stars. No, they were speeding into something red and gaping. And very much alive.

  “We’re…we’re somewhere along the Davezra Way, I know that much,” Zorii said, trying her best to get information out of the ship’s uncooperative computers. “But…I’m having trouble finding a landmark.”

  “Not where,” Gen Tri said. They almost floated toward Zorii’s terminal. “But what.”

  “Explain yourself, Gen Tri,” Vigilch said, also on his feet. “There’s no time for smoke and mirrors here. I need—”

  Then it roared, baring a gigantic set of sharp, blood-coated teeth to accompany its nightmarish visage.

  “What is that?” Poe asked, his own mouth agape. “What is that?”