The Rise of Skywalker

by Rae Carson

  His voice, along with Finn’s rapid approach, convinced her feet to move. She would not lose any more friends. She hurried toward Finn, and together they ran for the ship.

  * * *

  —

  From a distance Kylo Ren watched the freighter rise into the sky, Rey inside it. She had beaten him again, and yet he was filled with triumph.

  He’d been right to push her.

  She had just demonstrated unbelievable, mind-blowing power. Dark power. Sith power.

  The scavenger was almost ready to turn. And when she did, they would both kill their light, embrace their darkness. Then the Star Destroyer fleet—and the Sith throne—would be theirs.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ochi’s freighter may have been flightworthy, but that didn’t mean it was in good shape. The Legacy had been grounded on Pasaana for years, which meant they didn’t dare take it far until Rey and her friends could hide out for a bit, do a thorough check of the ship’s systems, and regain their bearings.

  Poe told everyone he knew exactly where to go, and Rey was happy to cede that decision to him. She sat in the copilot’s seat and provided support as he guided the Legacy into the rings of a large, glowing planet. The rings were made mostly of ice drifts. They reflected plenty of light from the system’s cool sun, and constantly shed vapor. It was a good hiding spot, one that would confuse most ships’ sensor sweeps—perfect for smugglers. One of these days, she might ask Poe how he knew about this place.

  “Rey,” Poe began, as he set the ship to drift alongside an ice floe, but when he saw her face, he changed his mind about whatever he was going to say. Instead, he went with: “I’ll start some diagnostics. Why don’t you…take a moment?”

  It was the gentlest he’d been with her for a long time. She nodded wordlessly and headed into the central hold, found a cushioned bench near the back, and plunked down.

  What have I done?

  Fear led to the dark side after all. She’d been fine so long as her fear was tempered by peace and resolve. But the moment she gave in to rage and terror…Chewbacca was gone. The Falcon was probably gone. Ochi’s dagger was gone. She had ruined everything.

  Leia would be so disappointed in her when she found out.

  As if reading her thoughts, BB-8 gave her a long, mournful beep.

  C-3PO said, “Poor, poor Chewbacca.”

  Tears were pouring down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them. Chewie had done so much for her. The Falcon was arguably his by right, but after Han died, Chewie had offered the pilot’s seat to her. And she had repaid this act of enormous generosity and respect by killing him.

  Finn stepped forward. His face was stricken. He said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was,” Rey said, unable to look at him. “I lost control.”

  “No, it was Ren. He made you do it.”

  Rey shook her head. “You saw what happened. That power came from me. Finn, there are things you don’t know.”

  “Then tell me.” He gazed at her, waiting patiently, no trace of judgment on his face.

  Rey hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell Leia. But maybe she could tell Finn. She had to tell someone or the secret would devour her from within.

  She whispered, “I had a vision. Of the throne of the Sith. I saw who was on it.”

  Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Ren?”

  Rey nodded. “And…me.”

  Finn’s mouth parted.

  She looked away, unable to face him. Rey wished she could run, from Finn’s inevitable disappointment, the shock in his voice when he finally spoke next. But on this tiny freighter, there was nowhere to go.

  Poe stepped into the hold from the cockpit. His face was haggard, but he seemed as determined as ever. He’d been so serious lately, often on the verge of anger ever since Crait. He felt responsible for the decimation of the Resistance, Rey knew. She understood what that was like, and she braced herself. She wasn’t going to blame him one bit for laying into her; she was just going to take it.

  He didn’t lay into her. Poe said, “We’ve only got eight hours left. So what are we gonna do?”

  “What can we do?” Finn said. “We gotta go back to base.”

  Poe was shaking his head. “We don’t have time to go back. We are not giving up. If we do that, Chewie died for nothing.”

  Poe was right. Rey was selfish to wallow in misery. She still had the Resistance to think about, their plan to find the Sith fleet. Chewie would want her to press on.

  “What is there to do?” Finn asked, his voice as despairing as she felt. “Chewie had the dagger. That was the only clue to the wayfinder. It’s gone.”

  “So true,” C-3PO said sadly. “The inscription lives only in my memory now.”

  Finn’s and Poe’s heads whipped toward C-3PO, and they pinned him with a collective glare.

  “Hold on,” Poe said. “You got the dagger inscription in your memory?”

  “Oh, yes, Master Poe. But a translation from a forbidden language cannot be retrieved. That is, short of a complete redactive memory bypass.”

  “A complete what?” said Finn.

  C-3PO flailed his arms. “Oh, it’s a terribly dangerous act, performed on unwitting droids by degenerates and criminals!”

  Finn brightened. “So we do that!”

  Poe’s eyes were narrowed in thought. “I know a black-market droidsmith.”

  “Black-market droidsmith!” C-3PO exclaimed.

  Poe seemed almost apologetic when he added, “But he’s on Kijimi.”

  “What’s wrong with Kijimi?” Finn asked.

  Poe seemed hesitant to answer. At Finn’s look of insistence, he said, “I had a little bad luck on Kijimi…” Poe sighed, then added, “But if this mission fails, it was all for nothing. All we’ve done. All this time.”

  Finn was nodding. “We’re in this to the end.”

  Rey had been looking back and forth between them as they talked, offering nothing, still expecting them to blame her, maybe even start yelling. But they hadn’t. Not once. Instead, they both looked to her for input. They both still trusted her, even Finn, who knew her darkest secret.

  She couldn’t bring herself to speak as she reached out and took Finn’s hand. In turn, Finn looked to Poe and extended his own hand. Poe shrugged once and then took it.

  “For Chewie,” Rey choked out.

  C-3PO teetered over to them and valiantly attempted to join hands, too, despite the fact that he didn’t have full articulation of his elbows or adequate spatial awareness.

  Oblivious that he’d accidentally knocked Finn’s feet with his own hard, metal ones, C-3PO solemnly said, “For the Wookiee.”

  Never underestimate a droid, Rey thought.

  They held hands for a long moment.

  Poe was the first to let go. “To Kijimi.” he said, and left for the cockpit to finish his diagnostics. Finn followed. Rey was about to go after them and make herself useful, but BB-8 caught her eye as he rolled away toward the corner, where an old, lumpy cloth sat discarded. He opened a port and reached out with his grip arm, yanked back the cloth.

  Beneath it was a rusty green droid, as lifeless and cold as a piece of scrap. It was tiny, with a conical head and a unicycle mechanism. The only droids Rey had ever encountered that were so small were used strictly for maintenance and janitorial work. This one seemed different. It had a motivator compartment and a higher-end transmitter array.

  BB-8 opened a side panel on the tiny, rusty droid, plugged in, and began to charge him. Rey wasn’t sure how well that would work out, but she couldn’t blame BB-8 for trying to give a little of his own life force to help another.

  Suddenly, the little droid was stirring to life. “B-b-battery charged!” he announced. He tried to roll forward, but his uni-wheel squealed in protest. He stared up at BB-8 in awe and wonder, whirring
at the larger droid in a worshipful tone.

  “He-hello!” the little droid said.

  BB-8 warbled back, telling him to follow. Together, they rolled toward Rey, the tiny droid’s wheel squeaking with each rotation.

  “Hello-hello!” the droid said to Rey. “I’m D-O.”

  “Hello,” Rey said, reaching out to touch him, but D-O recoiled, cowering in the corner.

  “No-no-no thank you,” he said.

  She respected his wishes, withdrawing her hand. He needed lubricant badly, but Rey didn’t see droid maintenance supplies anywhere in the hold. What kind of horrible person kept a droid but never maintained them?

  BB-8 beeped a question.

  “Looks like someone treated him badly,” Rey answered.

  Little D-O cocked his head at her.

  “It’s okay,” she told him. “You’re with us now.”

  * * *

  —

  General Hux took a deep breath before stepping onto the bridge of the Steadfast. The Millennium Falcon had been commandeered. He himself had supervised as three TIEs towed it into the incineration hangar.

  But it would not be enough.

  Ren was not currently aboard, but Allegiant General Pryde was, and he had the ear and favor of Ren. Whatever Hux reported to him, and how it was said, would be relayed in exact detail. Hux had one card to play. He had to play it carefully.

  He squared his shoulders and strode in as though he had every confidence in the galaxy. Bridge officers ignored him as he headed toward General Pryde and joined him on the upper walkway. A janitor droid scurried out of his way.

  “We recovered the scavenger’s ship,” Hux began. “But she got away.”

  General Pryde said nothing.

  “Under command of the Knights of Ren,” Hux said pointedly, “we suffered losses. Troops, TIEs, a transport was destroyed—”

  “I’ve seen the report,” Pryde snapped. “Is that all?”

  “No, Allegiant General,” Hux said.

  He often left little things out of his reports. Hux justified these redactions to his superiors by citing security concerns. But really, it was for moments like this. Hux needed to see Pryde’s reaction, understand the older man’s response in real time. If Pryde were allowed to read it while behind a desk, in the privacy of his office, Hux would never know how the news landed.

  “There was another transport in the desert,” Hux said. “It brought back a valuable prisoner.”

  Pryde’s stride hitched. The Resistance forces had been greatly depleted at Crait. Anyone left was immensely valuable. “Prisoner?” Pryde asked.

  Hux smiled. “Come with me.”

  * * *

  —

  Hux led Pryde to the door of a holding cell just outside the incineration hangar. The shiny black floor around it was peppered with sand and dust from the planet Pasaana. Hux was about to point it out to the stormtrooper guarding the door, but an MSE-6 series droid scurried over to take care of the mess, and Hux decided to let it go. For now.

  Instead, he signaled to the stormtrooper that they were ready.

  The door swicked away, revealing an impossibly tall and hairy creature in manacles, surrounded by more troopers. When it saw Hux and Pryde, it moaned loudly, revealing long teeth. Its breath smelled like something had crawled up into its throat and died. Sweet stars, but Wookiees were disgusting creatures.

  “The beast used to fly with Han Solo,” Hux said to Pryde.

  The Wookiee roared, blowing Hux’s hair back. The general managed to keep from recoiling, but he felt his cheeks quiver with the effort.

  “Have it sent to Interrogation Six,” Pryde said dismissively.

  Pryde headed away and Hux followed, secretly relieved to get out of range of those teeth.

  * * *

  —

  Kijimi City was an ancient, once-grand city that had been slowly carved into a snowy mountainside over the course of centuries. Its cobblestone streets twisted at steep, narrow angles, and slippery steps limned in ice and snow had caused more than one unwary person to regret their visit.

  Poe hurried down an alleyway, the hood of his coat tight against his face, his breath frosting the air. Snow flurried down, making every step slick and dangerous. He was lightheaded, his heart pattered fast, and he felt a tight headache coming on. He knew from experience that a body adjusted to the altitude eventually, but he hoped they wouldn’t be around long enough. In the meantime, he couldn’t afford to get altitude sickness. As he traveled, he took lots of slow deep breaths to give his body as much oxygen to work with as possible.

  It was nighttime, but like all large cities, Kijimi never quite slept. Oil lamps, sodium sconces, and the occasional cantina window pooled light onto the flagstone streets. He tried to avoid them all, sticking to darkness.

  Because First Order troopers were everywhere.

  Poe watched from the shadows as a group of troopers pounded on a door, demanding entry. Down the street a way, he found a small family huddled beneath an overhang, trying to disappear into the stone. Another turn, another set of steps, and Poe watched a snowtrooper drag a tiny, wailing girl away from her mother. He wished there was something he could do to help.

  There was. Finding that droidsmith, translating the dagger, and obliterating the Star Destroyer fleet could put a stop to all of this for good. He just had to figure out how.

  Poe entered the Thieves’ Quarter, and the alleys narrowed. A noxious stink made him wince. The sewer was backed up. Which meant one of the criminal syndicates had taken over this territory. Probably the Intracluster Gatherers, who were notorious for deferring maintenance, letting basic amenities like plumbing and power fall into disrepair just to save a few credits.

  It broke his heart a little. His memories of Kijimi were a mixed bag at best, but he hated to see the place even more run down, strangled by First Order occupation. It was happening in the Yavin system, on Corellia, and now even distant worlds like Pasaana weren’t safe. The First Order burned away everything that made the galaxy light and beautiful. Kijimi, like so many others, was now a shadow of what it used to be.

  Poe finally reached his friends, who had been waiting for him in a dark alcove. Rey, Finn, and even C-3PO wore long, hooded coats, which Poe had liberated from the Opranko Guildhouse. The protocol droid had informed Poe that his internal thermostat made a coat unnecessary, but thanked him nonetheless. Poe had ordered C-3PO to keep his hood up over his bright, stupid, golden head no matter what.

  Only BB-8 and his tiny new friend went undisguised.

  “Snowtroopers are everywhere,” Poe told them all. “We gotta find another way around.”

  “Then I suggest we leave,” C-3PO said, too loudly. “Who votes we leave?”

  “Threepio, clam it,” Poe ordered. Did the droid ever modulate the volume of his voice? “Follow me.”

  They’d only gone two steps before Poe stopped them again. The cone-headed droid was squealing like a dying rodent. “Is there anything we can do about that?” he asked.

  “Master Poe,” C-3PO said. “I will carry him.”

  He leaned down, scooped up the tiny droid, and cradled him under his arm. Rey reached over and pulled C-3PO’s coat closed, shrouding them both.

  “Thank you, thank you,” came a muffled voice.

  They set off again. His nose and cheeks were going numb in the icy air. They would tingle and itch like mad when they finally warmed up. Back in the day, plenty of his buddies had suffered frostbite in this place. One of the many reasons he’d been glad to leave it behind.

  Poe led them through the twisted streets, up a flight of stairs, all the while doing his best to avoid trooper squads and lookouts. He half expected Finn or Rey to needle him about how he knew so much about this place; they’d been relentless on the flight over, asking him about hot-wiring speeders, finding smug
glers’ hideouts, all of it. But they were as silent as a grave as they crept through the narrow passageways, tense with alertness.

  They were nearly to their destination. “All right,” Poe whispered. “Let’s head down this—”

  The tip of a blaster barrel was suddenly boring into his skull. Poe closed his eyes. He’d been afraid of this. No matter how sneaky you were, on Kijimi someone else was sneakier.

  “Heard you were spotted at Monk’s Gate,” came a female voice, filtered through a helmet vocoder. He knew that voice, even through a vocoder. “I thought,” she continued, “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised,” he said.

  He dared to look at her.

  Zorii Bliss. She was tall and lithe, in a maroon flight suit trimmed in coppery bronzium. Just like he remembered. Except her twin blasters were newer, and her helmet and visor—which shrouded her entire face—had a few more dings in it.

  “What’s going on?” Finn demanded.

  “Who’s this?” said Rey.

  “Uh, Zorii, this is Rey, Finn, and—”

  The pressure of the blaster against his skull deepened. “I could pull this trigger right now,” she said.

  “I’ve seen you do worse.”

  “For a lot less.”

  “Can we try talking this out?” he asked.

  “Nope. I wanna see your brains in the snow.”

  “So…you’re still mad?”

  “What is this?” Rey said. Poe knew that look. His friend was drawing on the Force. He had to defuse this situation quick.

  Zorii said, “Really hoped I’d never see you again, Poe Dameron of the Resistance.” She said the word Resistance like it tasted rotten in her mouth.

  “Oh, we’re all in the Resistance!” C-3PO said.

  “Threepio!” Finn snapped. “Shut. Up.”

  Once in a while, it was actually best to lead with the truth. Here goes nothing, Poe thought. “We need help, Zorii,” he said. “We gotta crack this droid’s head open.”