Poe Dameron

by Lucasfilm Press

  “There appear to be a few armed officers heading this way…and they seem quite upset….”

  Eevee. Poe opened his eyes. Zorii turned to EV-6B6’s voice and stood up. She walked toward the doorway and peered around the corner, EV-6B6 standing behind her.

  “What?” Zorii said. “I don’t see any—”

  The electrical charge leapt from EV-6B6’s fingertips into Zorii, causing her to spasm and scream in anguish. Her body began to jerk and twist from the shock as her blaster rattled to the floor. Poe stood up.

  “Eevee, stop it,” he said. The droid complied, and Zorii slumped to the ground, unconscious. “What the hell was that?”

  “No need to thank me,” EV-6B6 said as she moved out into the hallway. “I managed to connect with the terminal there and have gained limited access to Zeva Bliss’s plan—which Zorii has already activated.”

  Poe gave Zorii one last look before following EV-6B6. She was breathing. Slowly, but breathing. He pocketed her blaster and followed the droid.

  “So, what’s her plan then, Eevee?” Poe said, wincing as he picked up speed. “What’s Zeva Bliss doing?”

  “From what I understand, Zeva Bliss has gathered her closest allies and enemies to discuss partnership but will instead execute them,” EV-6B6 said, as if she was discussing fuel levels on a starship.

  “I know that,” Poe said, trying to keep up with the speedy droid. “But where? When?”

  EV-6B6 pointed toward the end of the hall. Poe froze as he saw a dozen or so of Zeva Bliss’s personal armored guards ushering a handful of gruff, unhappy people in the opposite direction.

  “Right now,” EV-6B6 said. “Right there.”

  “You’ll never get away with this,” BoShek said, without much conviction in his voice. One of the Spice Runner guards poked at him with a blaster. “Watch it. You’ll regret doing that.”

  “Sure I will,” the hooded guard said. “Now get moving.”

  Zeva Bliss watched as her security detail pushed and prodded her new prisoners from the monastery to a long field outside—a coliseum-like structure that had once been home to religious and mystical ceremonies, back when Kijimi was more spiritual than criminal. Now it would serve as an execution garden, the place where Zeva Bliss would vault ahead of her competitors and finally push the Spice Runners of Kijimi into the upper echelon of the galactic criminal underworld. It was a move that had taken years to plan. That had to be executed with precision and forethought. She’d waited patiently in the war room—prattled on and on about her hopes and dreams to this cabal of fools—for the signal from Zorii that everything was in place. Then the explosions began. The smuggler ships and transports that had ferried the likes of Tarand Crowe and Astrid Fenris to Kijimi were being destroyed by massive laser cannons hidden in the monastery’s stone structure, just as a giant doorway to the stage was opening.

  She watched as the seats surrounding the performance area were filled by her own people. Her Spice Runners. The scoundrels, bounty hunters, two-bit thieves, and murderers she’d cobbled together over the past few years to form a greater whole. All those who had sworn their allegiance to not only the Spice Runners of Kijimi but to her—to Zeva Bliss. They would bask in the glory with her. They would experience her crowning achievement alongside her. Her moment of victory.

  “No word from Zorii,” one of the guards said, his voice low so as to avoid being overheard. “Should we send out some troops to find her?”

  Zeva did not look at the messenger, feigning disinterest.

  “No, no, I’m sure she’s fine,” she said. “But we must find that Poe Dameron. Something tells me he doesn’t have…the stomach for the mission I’ve sent my daughter on.”

  The guard nodded and stepped away.

  Zeva Bliss did not tell her underlings her innermost ideas or, perish the thought, how she was feeling. But the knowledge that her daughter—her diligent, precise, and calculating daughter—had not checked in did worry her. It was unlike Zorii to go silent at such a critical moment. A time when Zeva Bliss would want her standing beside her to celebrate the demise of their deadliest foes.

  She would chastise Zorii later, Zeva Bliss thought as she drew her long sword from its scabbard and stepped into the center position. A wild roar emanated from the crowd—hoots, hollers, screams of victory. Zeva Bliss had not expected the rush to overcome her, but she felt every part of her pulsing with energy. She raised the sword up to the sky and was met by another boisterous wave of cheers. She let the whooping die down before she spoke, her voice loud and forceful.

  “The time for patience…is…over!” Zeva said, her voice booming through the space. “After we’re done, no one in the galaxy will be ignorant—no one will claim to not know who we are. No one will dare challenge us. Now the Spice Runners of Kijimi will take their proper place—by destroying our enemies and writing our names across the galaxy in their blood!”

  The crowd responded with more cheers, these tinged with a manic, desperate violence that had been absent just a few moments before.

  Poe Dameron’s heart sank as he peered at Zeva Bliss from the doorway to the coliseum, EV-6B6 at his side. He watched as the smugglers and bounty hunters who’d come to Kijimi expecting a deal to be made were ushered toward the center of the wide, dirt-caked field, blasters trained on them. How could Poe hope to make a difference here?

  “They appear to be moving all of the visitors outside,” EV-6B6 said.

  “I can see that,” Poe said, keeping his voice low. “But the question is why.”

  “Well, if I was the leader of the Spice Runners of Kijimi, and I had all my competitors in one room,” EV-6B6 said, her voice retaining its usual positive tenor, “it would make sense to not only murder them but do it as a public spectacle to instill fear and terror among your own—”

  “Okay, okay, I get it, Eevee,” Poe whispered to the droid. “We have to do something.”

  “The odds are certainly against us, but I think we should try,” EV-6B6 said without missing a beat.

  Then the shuddering started again.

  But it was different, less focused—and more familiar. Poe could tell the noise and vibrations were a surprise to the Spice Runners, too—as they scrambled to figure out what was going on. Zeva Bliss’s men looked around, trying to keep part of their attention on their prisoners while also trying to figure out why it felt like the planet itself was shaking off its mooring.

  Then Poe saw the ship, and he felt a wave of relief.

  The New Republic shuttle was large and clunky, but it landed a few meters from the bulk of Zeva Bliss’s troops as if that was standard operating procedure. The Spice Runners were still trying to regroup and figure out a plan of attack when the ship’s rear hatch opened and the boarding ramp hit the ground.

  Sela Trune stepped down, her blaster trained on Zeva Bliss.

  “Surprise,” Trune said with a smile.

  “Sela Trune, is it? I have to admit, I thought you’d be older,” Zeva Bliss said as she calmly stepped toward the new arrival, sword dangling at her side. “Nonetheless…welcome to Kijimi.”

  Bliss tried her best to appear unflappable, but even at that distance, Poe could see the Spice Runners’ leader was rattled. This was not part of the plan. This was an unexpected twist. And it was happening in front of her entire membership.

  Trune didn’t respond. She stepped on the dusty ground and kept her blaster locked on Zeva Bliss.

  “It takes quite a bit of nerve to come barreling into my home, Officer,” Zeva Bliss said, circling Trune, a new confidence in her movements. What does she know? Poe wondered. Why was she suddenly acting like she’d taken Trune by surprise? “Especially all alone.”

  Alone. Was it possible the New Republic Security Bureau officer had made her way to Kijimi without backup? He knew Trune was passionate—just based on their brief encounter on Ledesmar’s starship. But was there more to her desire to capture the leader of the Spice Runners? Something…personal?

  “This i
s my fight, Bliss,” Trune said. “I wouldn’t want to share my victory with anyone else.”

  She pulled a small datapad from her side pocket and tapped a few keys without looking away from Bliss or lowering her blaster. The ship behind her came to life. Three laser cannons popped up from the ship’s hull and sprayed the crowd of Spice Runners behind Zeva Bliss with fire, sending them scrambling for cover—and creating a wide rift between Bliss and her gang. They were alone now.

  “Trune, your timing is impeccable,” Bliss said, stepping toward the officer. “I figured you’d given up. But I should have known better.”

  Bliss darted forward, raising her sword and swinging the blade down hard. Trune barely dodged the attack, rolling across the ground and getting a few shots off. One grazed Bliss’s armor, leaving a mark, but Bliss barely noticed it. She raised the sword again.

  Trune sent another volley of blasts in Bliss’s direction, one of them knocking the other woman back. She chastised herself for underestimating Bliss’s armor. She’d come to Kijimi hot and angry—frustrated by her superiors’ lack of initiative and desire to shut down the Spice Runners. By now, the New Republic Security Bureau had noticed her absence—had logged the missing ship. If she made it out of this alive, she’d have plenty to explain to her bosses. But she’d had no choice.

  She blasted Bliss’s sword out of her hands. The Spice Runners’ leader cursed loudly as she scrambled to her feet. Trune moved closer—too close. She didn’t expect Bliss’s kick to come so fast. Next thing she knew, her own weapon was skittering across the dirt, out of reach.

  They were circling each other—each fighter poised to strike, each spring-loaded and ready to careen toward the other. The brawl itself had been brief, but Trune could already see the wear and tear on Bliss. This was supposed to be her big moment in front of her entire organization. Instead, she’d been blindsided and embarrassed. She had to end this quickly to save as much face as she could.

  “You’ve made a terrible mistake,” Bliss said, shaking her head. “You can’t beat me. Even if my people can’t reach you.”

  “No, Zeva, you’ve made the mistake,” Trune said. She’d wanted to savor this moment, to wait until she was sure she’d won, but her own impatience got the best of her. “It’s you who betrayed the very words you stand for.”

  Bliss hesitated, her posture softening, and Trune took the opportunity to strike, sending a punch right into Bliss’s visor. She heard a pleasant crack as the blow knocked Bliss to the ground. She thought she heard a unified, audible gasp from the collected Spice Runners watching the brawl, unable to cross the makeshift ditch her ship’s cannons had created without becoming easy targets. Trune didn’t let herself think about her audience much, though. Instead, she pounced. Trune felt her knuckles cracking and scratching on the hard metal of Bliss’s headgear, each punch hurting her almost as much as it probably hurt Bliss. Trune slowed as she felt Bliss’s grip weaken, the Spice Runner leader’s movement lethargic and groggy.

  Trune gripped Bliss by the collar, lifting her head so they were face to face. Trune could see Bliss’s eyes through the shattered and cracked helmet. Could smell the blood coating her face. Bliss’s heavy, labored breathing was coming in uneven bursts.

  “Finish me,” Bliss said, her words coming out like a wheeze. “It’s what you want, isn’t it? To avenge your dead family…? To have my blood on your fingertips?”

  Trune gritted her teeth. Bliss wasn’t wrong. But she would do it on her own terms. The New Republic’s terms.

  “I’ve already finished you,” Trune said, a dark smile forming on her face. She could see surprise creep into Bliss’s eyes. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  Bliss stiffened in Trune’s grip, as if the truth had been injected into her bloodstream. Does she know? Trune wondered.

  “I couldn’t believe it—that you’d even consider it possible. That Tomasso, your loyal, unbending deputy would betray your trust,” Trune said, whispering now, wanting only Bliss to hear her killing blow. “It was so easy…so easy to plant the seeds of doubt. To make you consider…then believe…that the one person who’d always stood by you was actually looking to take your place.”

  “No, no…the proof, the facts…” Bliss sputtered. “Who? How?”

  “Marinda Gan was all too willing to sell every secret she could muster for a chance at freedom,” Trune said, building up steam as she got closer to the truth that would crush Zeva Bliss. “It was just a matter of using her secrets against Tomasso…and you.”

  A short, moaning sob escaped Zeva Bliss’s mouth, the muffled noise jarring, disconcerting. She was human after all, Trune thought. She shook off the momentary distraction and pressed on.

  “Facts can be fabricated, Zeva Bliss,” Trune said, savoring each word, watching as each one stabbed the other woman’s heart. “Truths bent and twisted to fit the story…the story I wanted you to believe. When, in truth, it was an entirely different betrayal that gave me what I needed to find you…and crush you.”

  Trune had been too caught up in the story—too caught up in her moment of victory over Bliss, the woman who’d ordered the attack that stole her family—to notice Bliss’s hands moving furtively. She didn’t see the small blade in her hand. Saw her arm jerk upward too late. The blade wasn’t long, but the jagged knife entered her midsection with a focused fury. Trune felt the blade twist inside her, sending a burning, unfathomable pain through her entire body.

  Bliss caught the look of anguished surprise on Trune’s face, the officer’s moment of victory withered away.

  “For shame, Trune,” Bliss said, pushing the blade so hard into Sela Trune’s midsection that the New Republic officer was lifted up. “What a silly mistake. To think you’d bested me with words? It is the blade that wins the war, my dear. And I always carry a spare.”

  Bliss shoved Trune aside as she stood. The knife remained embedded as she desperately tried to pull it out, her groans and whimpers growing more frantic and pained. Zeva walked toward her fallen sword and picked it up, taking her time as she returned to Trune.

  “It is time you learned the same lesson your family learned years ago, Sela Trune of Yungbrii,” Bliss said, a bloody smile visible through her battered helmet. “You never cross the Spice Runners of Kijimi.”

  The blaster shot connected with Bliss’s shoulder, knocking her to her knees. She stood up slowly and turned around.

  Who dares?

  Bliss looked over at the young man, his eyes wide with fear, his hand gripping the blaster with a tightness and focus that screamed nerves and anxiety. She stepped toward him, sword raised high.

  “Have you also come to Kijimi to die, Poe Dameron?”

  While New Republic Security Bureau officer Sela Trune began to duel Zeva Bliss, Poe Dameron found himself at an unexpected fork in the road.

  “Dameron, come on—we have to find a way over that canyon to help our leader,” said one of the hooded guards, pointing toward Zeva Bliss, who was now locked in combat with Trune. “We have to take that New Republic suit down before her friends join in.”

  They don’t know what I did, Poe thought. The only Spice Runner who knew about Poe’s decision not to take part in Zeva Bliss’s murderous plan was Zorii, who was—hopefully—still sleeping fitfully inside the monastery. And EV-6B6, of course. She knew, too.

  Poe nodded absentmindedly at the guard and grabbed EV-6B6 by the arm, dragging her toward the entrance to the monastery. Out of the corner of his eye Poe could see the handful of armed Spice Runners ushering their prisoners away from the Bliss/Trune battle and toward the field’s far wall. The crowd seemed awed into silence, watching Zeva and Trune duke it out. The brawl was probably more entertainment than they’d bargained for, Poe mused.

  “Are you taking me somewhere, Master Poe?” EV-6B6 said as she squirmed. Poe realized he was still gripping the droid tightly and released her.

  “They still think we’re on their side, Eevee,” Poe said, jerking a thumb at the Spice Runners. “So
we have to use that to our advantage.”

  “It’s good that they still believe we’re Spice Runners,” EV-6B6 mused. “But we’re severely outnumbered, don’t you think? Not to get pessimistic, but…”

  Poe gripped the droid by the shoulders, shaking her slightly.

  “No, I refuse to think that way, okay? We’re going to get out of here, Eevee,” Poe said. “Just follow my lead, all right?”

  EV-6B6 pulled away from Poe’s grip, which he took as a sign of agreement. Poe walked toward a Spice Runner guard, standing watch outside the monastery entrance Poe had walked through a few minutes before.

  “We need more weapons, we’re running low—think you can swing by the armory and stock up?” Poe said. “Things are nuts out here and we can’t really afford to be two men down.”

  The guard turned and sped away after a few mumbled words of agreement. Poe fought back the urge to smile at EV-6B6. Another guard—the same one who’d ordered Poe to join them, perhaps, Poe couldn’t tell—came upon them.

  “What’re you two doing here?” he said. “You want to help?”

  Poe started to respond but got cut off.

  “Good, good. We’re trying to figure out how to get closer to the fight,” the guard continued. “That damn ditch isn’t gonna be easy to get across. Second one of us tries, that New Republic cop can take us out. But I think we can wait it out. Eventually Trune is going to slip up and we’ll be able to step in. But we need to get into position now. It’s taken forever for these amateurs to piece together a plan, but I think we’ve got it. Thing is, we need someone to watch the prisoners while we move in. Do you think you and your droid can handle that?”

  Poe nodded enthusiastically.

  “Meet us by the far wall,” the guard said. “You’ll take over watching the prisoners so we can give Zeva Bliss some backup.”