Poe Dameron

by Lucasfilm Press

  The first lurker leapt onto EV-6B6 and began slamming its large, webbed hands into her head, sending the droid backward, screaming as she toppled to the ground.

  Kes took a few shots at the monster, knocking it off EV-6B6. But it was just the first. Soon the area was swarming with the high-jumping predators—and they were not there to make friends. Some spat a highly acidic liquid from their mouths, which caused painful, deep burns. Others had sharp, jagged teeth capable of tearing through most anything. They were fighting to kill, and there were a lot of them.

  Zorii and Poe found themselves back to back, knee-deep in a dark, brownish-green puddle, surrounded by marsh and buzzing flies. Most important, there were at least a half dozen lurkers making their way toward them—their long tongues lolling out of their mouths, the muted yellow of their eyes dull and distant in the fading Belsavis sun.

  “They’re pretty fast for their size,” Poe said as he sent a few blaster shots at a leaping lurker. He landed two hits, knocking the animal down mid-jump. It gave a pained wail as it splashed into a nearby creek. “And they seem to keep coming—”

  Zorii sent off strafing shots at three of the lurkers lunging toward her, disabling them momentarily.

  “I can’t believe you’re considering leaving,” she said, keeping her eyes on the remaining lurkers, now wary of approaching her. “After all we’ve been through, Poe.”

  “Do we have to talk about this now?” Poe said, ducking to avoid a kick from the closest lurker. He sent an elbow into the green-skinned monster’s face—a satisfying crack emanating from the impact. “It feels like a not-so-great time to talk about us.”

  “It’s not about us,” Zorii said, flinging a lurker back into the larger group of attackers, sending a few of them tumbling into each other. “It’s bigger than that. Don’t make this so emotional. That’s what you always do.”

  Poe fired a few more shots at the two or three remaining lurkers on his side, keeping them at bay. He was bruised and battered, a deep gash on his right side from a lurker that got too close, his face caked with dirt and blood. But all things considered—he was standing and could’ve been much worse, he rationalized.

  “I’m a sensitive guy, what can I say? It’s part of my charm. Isn’t it?”

  Zorii didn’t respond, instead sending a short kick into the remaining lurker’s face as it tried to grab at her. It went down and didn’t show any signs of getting back up. Zorii wheeled around and fired a quick flurry of shots into the other lurkers creeping on Poe. They fell fast and loud. Poe and Zorii stood for a moment, unsure where to go next.

  Their momentary indecision was shaken by the sound of a pained human scream.

  “Dad,” Poe said, his tone frantic.

  “I will kill you myself if you betray us, Poe Dameron,” Zorii said, taking off in the direction of the scream. Poe followed.

  He wanted to think she was joking, that she understood why he’d consider going back home. But in the time he’d known Zorii Wynn he’d learned a few things. First and foremost—Zorii Wynn did not joke around when it came to the Spice Runners of Kijimi. But he didn’t have time to care.

  He caught up with her as the second scream started. Then they broke into a run.

  When Poe and Zorii made it back to the Vondel, they found Kes Dameron on the ground, a deep wound in his midsection—dark red seeping through his tunic as L’ulo tried to tend to him. About a dozen dead lurkers were spread out around the group. Tomasso and EV-6B6, scratched up but still functional, stood on the fringe, blasters at the ready.

  “Dad,” Poe said, reaching his father and falling to his knees. He took the older Dameron’s hand and looked into his eyes. “Dad, what happened?”

  Kes Dameron coughed, a wet, slushy sound.

  “Those green things…sure can get at you,” Kes said, stifling another cough. “Guess I’m…out of practice.”

  Poe grabbed L’ulo, surprising his old friend with his strength.

  “I’m doing the best I can, Poe,” L’ulo said, trying to remain calm. But he was unable to hide his fear. Kes had lost a lot of blood. “That droid of yours patched him up a bit, but that’s about all we can do from here. Once I get him back to the cruiser, we should be fine. But we need to leave now. We needed to leave five minutes ago, but your father refused to go without you.”

  Poe felt Zorii’s eyes boring a hole into the back of his skull. He had to decide. He had to make a choice that would affect his life forever. If his father died on that Moraysian cruiser, he would never forgive himself. But was he ready to give up on everything he’d started to build with Zorii and Tomasso as a Spice Runner? Would they let him?

  “This isn’t for you, Poe,” Kes said, his voice shaky. He winced as another wave of pain hit him. “It’s…it’s not safe for you. I can’t risk this…can’t risk losing you, too…not after…”

  Poe crouched down closer, his face next to his father’s—their eyes locked.

  “I’m not Mom, Dad,” Poe said. “This is different, okay? I know you want to protect me, but you can’t. You have to let me learn on my own. You and Mom and L’ulo did your best for me. Now I have to use that to do what’s best for me, all right?”

  Kes let out a long sigh. He tried to sit up but was seized by a wave of coughs. He collapsed into Poe’s arms, wheezing. He cleared his throat and tried to force a wan smile onto his face.

  “If I wasn’t laid up like this, I’d throw you in that shuttle and we’d figure it out on the way home,” he said, his breathing shallow and quick. “But you’re a lot more like your mother than you know. She was stubborn, too. She wanted to experience everything. Wanted to be part of the bigger story. Me? I was happy living a quiet life on Yavin Four. I’d done my bit for the Republic. But I can’t force you.”

  Kes sagged in his son’s arms, his eyelids fluttering. Poe looked at L’ulo.

  “He needs to go, now,” L’ulo said, hoisting his friend up. Poe stood with him. L’ulo laid a hand on Poe’s shoulder. “We are always here for you, son. You know that. But you have to think for yourself. You have to ask yourself if this is what you want. If this is truly what you were meant to do with your life. You’re an amazing pilot. I hope you’ll learn to use those skills for the greater good, before it’s too late. I’d keep arguing with you, Poe, if there were time. But I have to get your father help. He’s dying.”

  All Poe could muster was a brief nod before L’ulo pulled him in for a tight embrace.

  “Don’t let anyone change who you are, Poe,” L’ulo whispered in his ear as he held Poe close. “Be true to yourself.”

  As they broke the hug, a cold wind hit them. They all looked up to see a massive ship hovering above, preparing to land.

  “What is that?” Kes croaked.

  “The Moraysian cruiser only had a few shuttles,” L’ulo said. “And that’s not one of them.”

  “It is one of ours,” Tomasso said, a tone of admiration and confidence in his voice. “So I suggest you two get off this planet now, if you want to avoid the full wrath of the Spice Runners of Kijimi.”

  Poe couldn’t fight the sinking, dark feeling that he’d never see his father or L’ulo alive again.

  “That is something else.”

  Kes Dameron’s hoarse words would haunt Poe for a long time. But for now they just served as an astute observation as they all stared upward at the massive unknown ship making its descent to the planet’s surface.

  Poe turned to face Tomasso, who had a knowing, creepy grin on his face.

  “You said that’s one of ours?” Poe asked. He looked at Zorii, whose expression had gone blank—an empty stare in her eyes. It took Poe a few moments before he realized she was paralyzed with fear. “Zorii, what—what is that? Who is that?”

  She didn’t respond. She didn’t look at Poe. She remained focused on the ship, her expression frozen.

  Poe looked back at his father, who was slouched in L’ulo’s arms, looking ashen. He felt like he could read the older Dameron’s mind. K
es didn’t want to leave. But that was a death sentence.

  “L’ulo,” Poe said, “you have to get Dad off this planet. Now.”

  L’ulo nodded. “Your father doesn’t seem to agree.”

  Kes Dameron struggled, trying to break free from L’ulo’s grasp. But he was too weak. The lurker’s bite—probably rife with poison—was impeding his every movement.

  “No, Poe—no,” Kes said, but his words were slow and slurred. “Come with us.”

  Poe and L’ulo’s eyes met. They heard the loud thump of the new ship landing, and a strong gust of wind buffeted them. Time was running out.

  “Take him, L’ulo,” Poe said, his eyes wet with tears. “Take him now. He’ll never forgive us, but it’s the right thing to do. I’ll find my way back to you.”

  L’ulo didn’t speak. Instead he dragged Kes, half conscious, toward their shuttle.

  “Don’t make your promise a lie, Poe,” L’ulo shouted as they boarded the ship.

  Poe couldn’t muster the words to respond.

  By the time the small Moraysian shuttle was in the air, heading up to the cruiser, the massive new ship had completed its landing—and a small coterie of guards had begun to walk down a long boarding ramp, armed to the teeth. They weren’t uniformed or organized—their look was ragtag—but they were each imposing in their own way, a mix of humanoids and non-humanoids from across the galaxy, all with looks of danger in their eyes. Poe turned to his remaining friends—Zorii, EV-6B6, and Tomasso. Zorii’s expression remained fearful. The droid muttered to herself in an oddly cheerful tone.

  Only Tomasso seemed content, as if anticipating a great gift. He wore a relaxed smile on his face.

  “What’s going on, Tomasso?” Poe asked. “Who’s on that ship?”

  The last figure to disembark the ship was a tall, wiry woman wearing a luminescent golden helmet with a long protruding visor. Her demeanor—menacing and distant—screamed that she was in charge. The entire squad of guards deferred to her, scanning the planet’s surface with an eye on protection as they waited for her to step to the ground. Her helmet’s plasteel shell and bronzium finish shone in the planet’s unfiltered sunlight. A flowing violet cape billowed behind her as she turned to face the Spice Runners.

  “Zeva Bliss,” Tomasso whispered, the words barely audible.

  “Who?” Poe asked.

  “Our leader, young Poe,” Tomasso said. “A name only muttered in shadows. The ruthless, genius leader of the Spice Runners of Kijimi.”

  “My mother,” Zorii said.

  The woman known as Zeva Bliss approached them, sword dangling carelessly in its scabbard at her side. Her smooth golden helmet moved as she scanned the group before stopping on Tomasso. She nodded at the older man. The dark visor that covered most of the front of her headgear revealed nothing of the face inside.

  “Old friend,” she said, her voice sounding distant and mechanical, as if spoken through a filter. “It’s been too long.”

  “My duties keep me quite busy,” Tomasso said with a wry smile. “As you know all too well, Zeva.”

  “Indeed, I do.”

  “What brings the leader of the Spice Runners of Kijimi to the far end of the Llanic Spice Run?” Tomasso asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. “All is well, I hope?”

  Zeva’s visor shifted to Zorii, who returned the stare—her look defiant but respectful. Though it was clear to Poe his friend was afraid, he admired her efforts to look the opposite. But if Zeva Bliss was indeed Zorii Wynn’s mother, she had probably picked up on that, too.

  “All is not well, Tomasso,” Zeva said, still looking at her daughter. “Unfortunately.”

  As Poe watched the two women size each other up, he felt a wave of betrayal. How, in all the time he’d spent with Zorii—intimate moments, moments of friendship, and tense, fearful moments—had she not mentioned she was the daughter of the leader of the Spice Runners of Kijimi? Why had she kept it a secret? Did he even have a right to ask?

  Zorii looked at Poe—her eyes softening a bit as if to say, I’ll explain this, trust me. Poe nodded, the past few months spent sniping at each other melting away in this one, brief flicker of humanity between them.

  He was transported back to a few months earlier—to his fateful choice to remain with the Spice Runners of Kijimi—and he realized how much of that decision was tied to Zorii, to that look of fear and uncertainty on her face as Zeva Bliss arrived. Poe knew—deep inside—that he had to help her get through whatever was coming, and his own journey would have to wait. At least until he sorted out his feelings for Zorii. Not so much his romantic feelings—though that was part of it, if he was being honest with himself—but their bond as friends and partners. He hoped he’d made the right call.

  Zeva Bliss tilted her head slightly as she faced them.

  “You will accompany me to Kijimi, immediately,” she said. “The time for training is over. You, Poe Dameron of Yavin Four, and my daughter, Zorii Bliss, have proven yourselves capable enough. You will be welcomed on Kijimi as full members of the Spice Runners, with all the amenities, respect, and responsibility that role brings. There is a mission that I can only give to people I trust with my life.”

  “This is, of course, your decision, Exalted One, but, if I may ask,” Tomasso said, confusion dripping from every word, “what of my services? Surely I can be—”

  Before Tomasso could finish, Zeva buried her sword hilt-deep in the older man’s midsection. Tomasso sputtered, blood flowing out of his mouth, an expression of pure surprise and betrayal on his face.

  Zeva pulled the sword back, the curved blade coated in Tomasso’s blood. He collapsed to his knees, his eyes still wide.

  “No!” Poe screamed as he tried to lunge for the older man. He was held back, his arms pinned by Zeva’s guards. “Tomasso!”

  “You swore an oath to the Spice Runners, Tomasso,” Zeva said as her second-in-command crumpled to the wet, swampy ground. “You swore your undying loyalty to all that we do, forever. You betrayed that oath.”

  Before Poe could say anything else, Zeva spun around and marched back toward her ship, her guards lining up behind her. She caught a glimpse of EV-6B6 bending over to tend to Tomasso. Zeva looked at Poe.

  “Where did you get this droid?” she asked.

  It took Poe a moment to formulate a response. “The Moraysian…the cruiser,” Poe said. Why did she care?

  “Ledesmar’s ship?” Zeva asked, a knowing ring to her words. “The property of a competitor? I see.”

  The leader of the Spice Runners of Kijimi pivoted back and continued toward her ship. She turned to one of her guards and nodded. The foot soldier pulled out his blaster and sent a few shots into EV-6B6’s back, destroying the droid’s midsection.

  Poe, released by the guards as they followed Zeva onto the ship, fell to his knees. His body began to shake as he stared down at his two friends—one dead, the other destroyed. He sensed Zorii standing above him. He looked up to see her, shaken, struggling to remain stoic as she locked eyes with her murdered mentor, a pool of blood forming around his lifeless body.

  “You didn’t think to tell me?”

  Poe’s words hung between them in Zorii’s quarters on Zeva Bliss’s massive ship. The starship felt like a city unto itself—long, winding hallways meshed with massive atria and meeting rooms and docking areas. Though not as huge as the Moraysian cruiser, the Kijimi-bound ship seemed to do more with less—giving Zeva Bliss’s Centurion-class battlecruiser a sprawling, endless feeling. Or maybe Poe was just reeling from all that had happened in the past two hours.

  “Zorii,” Poe continued. “When were you going to tell me your mother ran the entire operation?”

  “You’re one to criticize, Poe,” Zorii said, as if seeing him for the first time. “When were you going to tell us—your friends and teammates—that your own father was after us? That he’d fought in the Rebel Alliance? When would we learn that?”

  “That’s completely different,” Poe protested. “And I
didn’t even know he was coming after me.”

  “Is it, though?” Zorii said, one eyebrow arched. “That’s convenient.”

  “Is this why the Guavians were after you?” Poe asked. “Why Ledesmar recognized you? Why Gen Tri was so concerned with getting you off the Moraysian cruiser safely?”

  “Points to the farm boy from Yavin Four,” Zorii said, not trying to hide any hurt feelings or anger anymore. The stoic façade had faded once Zeva Bliss had left them alone. “You figured it out. So what?”

  “You could have said something,” Poe said softly, trying to lower his defenses—to show Zorii he was still with her. It seemed to work. She stepped toward him. “I’m your friend. You know that.”

  Zorii nodded as she looked around the cramped space, as if trying to come to terms with all that had happened to them.

  “I couldn’t find the right time, honestly,” she said. “It felt like too much—especially with everything going on. It just seemed like an added burden to share.”

  “But why…why did your mom put you through this?” Poe said motioning out toward space. “Why not train you herself?”

  “I didn’t want that,” Zorii said. “I didn’t want special treatment. Some people knew, of course. My mother wouldn’t send her only child out into the galaxy alone. Tomasso and Gen Tri were there to ensure my safety. But I didn’t want anyone else to know or coddle me. I wanted to learn, to get better, to become the best at this.”

  Poe shook his head. So much had happened. So much had changed. He’d seen his own father and L’ulo, and that felt like it had happened years before. EV-6B6 destroyed. Tomasso dead. Zorii’s mother. It was too much. Poe felt like he needed a month to process it all. But he didn’t have that luxury. They were on their way to Kijimi, like it or not.

  “If we’re being honest now, Poe, if we’re laying it all out on the table,” Zorii said, stepping closer, more into his space, “I should ask you the same thing.” Her expression was intense—a mix of anger and passion. “Why are you here? What keeps you with us? Do you really believe in what the Spice Runners are about? Or did you just want to run away from a boring life tending to your dad’s farm?”