by Rae Carson
“Pardon me?” C-3PO said.
“We’re on our way to Babu Frik,” Poe added.
“You’re outta luck,” Zorii said. “Babu only works for crew nowadays. That’s not you anymore.” With the word you, the pressure on his skull became unbearable.
Rey looked back and forth between them. “What ‘crew’?” she asked.
“Funny he never mentioned it,” Zorii said, in a tone that meant it wasn’t funny at all. “Your friend’s old job was running spice.”
Poe’s shoulders deflated. There it was. Now there’d be no end to it.
“Waitwaitwaitwait,” said Finn on cue. “You were a spice runner?”
“You were a stormtrooper!” Poe retorted.
“Were you a spice runner?” Rey prodded.
“Were you a scavenger? We could do this all night…”
Two figures materialized out of the darkness, tall, armed beings, one from each direction, blocking their exits. Zorii shifted her blaster to Poe’s neck.
“You don’t have all night,” Zorii spat at him. “You don’t even have now. You know, I’m still digging out of the hole you put me in when you left to join the cause.” Her gaze shifted to Rey. “You? You’re the one they’re looking for. Bounty for her just might cover us.” To the oncoming thugs, she ordered, “Djak’kankah! All of them!”
“No Djak’kankah!” Poe protested, but Rey was already moving like lightning, swinging up her staff to knock Zorii’s blaster out of her hand. In the same, single fluid movement, she whipped her staff around, slammed the end into the face of one of Zorii’s thugs, then hefted it and threw it like a spear into the face of the other.
Before anyone could react, Rey had ignited her lightsaber and brought the tip to Zorii’s neck. Zorii had to hear the crackle near her ear, had to realize she’d been pinned with an ancient Jedi weapon.
But Zorii’s reactions were always hidden by that helmet.
Poe didn’t mind admitting that he was feeling a little bit smug as Rey said, in a preternaturally kind voice, “We really could use your help. Please.”
Zorii studied Rey through her mask. Poe could hear her breathing, hear her thinking.
“Not that you care,” Zorii said at last, her voice as cool and steady as ever, her mask still closed, “but I think you’re okay.”
Rey blinked. “I…care.” Rey retracted her lightsaber, clipped it to her belt.
Zorii looked at Poe. A bit of tension left her shoulders as she came to a decision. “We can get to Babu’s through the Thieves’ Quarter.”
She headed off, and Poe indicated for his friends to follow. Behind them came the unmistakable tat-tat of stormtroopers marching in formation. They slipped out of the alley before they could be spotted.
As they traveled a snowy passageway, Finn leaned over to him and whispered, “Poe Dameron: Spice Runner.”
“Don’t.”
“Runner of Spice.”
“All right.”
He glanced over at Rey, who was silent and frowning, lost in her own thoughts. Or maybe she was focused. Sensing something.
CHAPTER 9
Rey couldn’t help trying to calculate the portion value of everything she saw.
Babu Frik’s workshop was a cramped maze of tools and droid parts. The walls were wholly obscured by shelves, piled with wires and electronics. Every table surface was covered, every nook and cranny filled to overflowing. Parts even draped from the ceiling overhead; Rey noted a pair of dismembered legs hanging, possibly from an old battle droid.
It was a fortune in parts. That astromech head dome, for instance, was in great condition. It was made of plastex, which meant it would be easy to buff out the scorch marks and sell it for—
Something bumped her foot. A janitor droid mopped up a bit of melted snow they’d tracked in, then scurried away.
“I haven’t the faintest idea why I agreed to this,” C-3PO said, drawing Rey’s attention back to the droid, “I must be malfunctioning.”
He was reclined on a workbench, with so many wires sticking out of his head it almost looked like he’d grown fur.
“You’re going to be okay,” Rey assured him.
Babu Frik himself was nearly invisible, hidden behind C-3PO’s rear head plate. He was one of the tiniest beings Rey had ever seen, his height barely stretching as long as her forearm. He poked around in C-3PO’s head with an electroprobe, muttering in Anzellan, occasionally interspersed with words in Basic. He had a grizzled face highlighted by bright, intelligent eyes, and gray brows as long and stiff as whisk brooms. The welding goggles he wore on the top of his head were armored against scorching. What kind of dangerous work was this fellow involved in to require weapons-grade work armor?
Rey crouched beside him. “Babu Frik?” she said. “Can you help us with this?
Babu responded, but Rey had no idea what he was saying.
She looked toward the spice runner. “Zorii?” Rey said. “Is this going to work?”
Zorii said something in Anzellan, and Babu responded as though annoyed at being interrupted. The words were delightful, clanging against one another fast and curt, like metal parts tumbling into a melting vat. Rey wished she had time to learn the language.
“Babu says he’s found something in your droid’s forbidden memory bank,” Zorii said. “Words translated from…Sith?”
“Yes!” Rey said.
“That’s what we need,” Poe affirmed.
The spice runner turned on Poe. “Who are you hanging around with that speaks Sith?” Zorii asked, and Rey could have sworn that Zorii glanced toward the lightsaber at her belt.
“Can we make him translate it?” Finn said.
Zorii and Babu spoke back and forth. Then Zorii said, “Yes. But doing so will trigger a complete memory wipe.”
“…Complete memory wipe?” C-3PO said in a tremulous voice.
“Waitwait,” Poe said to Babu. “You’re saying we make him translate…and he won’t remember anything?”
“Droid remember go blank!” Babu said.
“No!” said C-3PO.
“Blankblank,” said Babu.
“There must be some other way,” C-3PO pleaded.
“Doesn’t Artoo back up your memory?” Finn said.
“Please sir,” C-3PO said. “Artoo’s storage units are famously unreliable.”
Rey hated this. C-3PO was right, of course—in a way. Leia had told her a little about the droid’s history. Along with R2-D2, he’d survived the Clone Wars, the Galactic Civil War, and now the Resistance against the First Order. Leia’s father, Anakin, had built C-3PO when he was a little boy. But the golden droid remembered little of it. His memory had been wiped at least once that Leia knew of. Rey wasn’t sure she could stomach doing that to him again.
“You know the odds better than any of us,” Rey said gently. “Is there any other choice?”
C-3PO was silent a long moment, considering. He muttered, “If this mission fails, it was all for nothing. All we’ve done…all this time…”
Poe’s exact words from earlier, before they’d all held hands and vowed to press on. Droids continued to amaze her.
C-3PO looked up. His gaze moved to each of them in turn, lingering on one face then another.
“What, uh…what’re you doing there, Threepio?” Poe asked.
“Taking one last look, sir. At my friends.”
They all stood in silence, watching C-3PO quietly say goodbye. Rey could hardly believe this was happening. She’d lost Chewie, and now she might lose C-3PO. How much loss could a person take?
“Sad,” said D-O.
The sound of a large vehicle filtered in through the walls. Babu cocked his head and said, “Uh-oh.”
Zorii cleared her throat. “Night raids are starting. I’ll keep a lookout.” She moved as if to leave.
“I’m coming with you,” said Poe.
“You never did trust me,” Zorii said, laughing a little.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Nope.”
Together Zorii and Poe exited the workshop. Rey watched them go, wondering how far she could push Poe to talk about his history with the spice runner.
After they were gone, C-3PO addressed Babu Frik in a brave and steady voice: “You may proceed.”
* * *
—
Poe and Zorii sat on the rooftop of Babu’s workshop. The city spread out before them, dark and icy. Kijimi used to quiet down during this deep hour of the night, but no longer. Laser flashes glowed briefly between buildings. Distant shouts echoed strangely over the rooftops. Several blocks away, a First Order UA-TT walker thudded through the streets. Poe watched a small figure dart away from its heavy steps, fleeing for their life.
He was glad Zorii had brought a flask, because he really needed a drink.
Poe lifted the flask and sipped. The liquid burned his throat, warmed his insides. He sighed. It had been years since any skordu had passed his lips. It was a popular drink on Kijimi, distilled from a high-altitude fungus that grew in icy caves and crevices. Local legend was that the Dai Bendu monks had first invented it, back when Kijimi City had been a religious stronghold—almost a holy site—before the city was overtaken by thieves and squatters and refugees. Poe wasn’t sure he believed that Kijimi City had ever been a place of peace and contemplation. But with a little skordu in his belly, he could almost pretend.
“Is every night this bad?” Poe asked. He stared off over the rooftops. Kijimi City was a drinking town, because drinking kept a body warm. Cantinas selling skordu or Ultra-Ox made a killing. If he could do it all over again, he might consider running booze instead of spice. He offered Zorii the flask.
“Most nights, worse,” she said. “First Order’s taken most of the children. I can’t stand the cries anymore. I’ve saved up enough to get out. I’m going to the Colonies.”
Poe whipped his head to look at her.
She took the flask, turned her face away. Out of sight, her mask swicked open. She tilted her head back to take a swig. The mask thumped closed. Zorii handed the flask back to him, her face shrouded once again.
“How?” he asked. “They blocked those hyperlanes.” No one was getting to the Colonies these days without special authorization. The First Order wanted everyone to stay right here in well-mapped sectors, where they could be controlled.
Zorii fished into a belt compartment, drawing out a small object that flashed in the pale glow of a nearby oil lamp. It was round like a coin and latticed, with a port for connectivity.
Poe whistled in appreciation. “First Order captain’s medallion. I’ve never even seen a real one,” he said.
“Free passage through any blockade. Landing privileges at any garrison.”
“Who’d you bribe? What’d you pay?” Poe asked, his voice incredulous.
Zorii touched the side of her mask. Her visor shield retracted, finally revealing depthless wide-spaced green eyes that seemed almost yellow in the lamp light. Poe swallowed hard. Her eyes had always affected him strangely.
“Wanna come with me?” she said, sounding suddenly vulnerable.
* * *
—
It was a quick shuttle trip back to the command ship, and it hadn’t given Kylo Ren nearly enough time to prepare. He stopped before the door of Interrogation Six, rallying his thoughts.
He had all the power now, he reminded himself. The Wookiee was his past. He meant nothing to him.
Kylo opened the door.
Chewbacca was shackled to the wall. He looked up at Ren, fury in his eyes.
“I have not forgotten that you shot me,” Kylo said. That wound had resulted in a defeat at Rey’s hands. Had he been in top fighting form, the scavenger never would have gotten the best of him.
With a wave of Kylo’s hand, Chewbacca’s shackles opened and clanked to the floor. He removed the lightsaber from his belt. Dropped it to the ground.
“Kill me,” Kylo taunted. “I’m unarmed. Now’s your chance. Have your revenge for Han Solo.”
Chewbacca had never been stupid, and so he made no move. But he growled, dark and low.
“Feel that?” Kylo continued, merciless. “It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it? That burning. The dark side. It makes you powerful. You understand that. The scavenger will understand it, too.”
He sensed a stab of fear from the Wookiee, on Rey’s behalf. Kylo smiled, for he’d just been given his way in. Chewbacca loved the girl. In time, he would love her as much as he’d loved Han Solo.
The way he’d never really loved Ben. Snoke had been the one to show him that.
Kylo’s voice crackled with rage. “What was her mission? Where is she going? Give me the answer…or I’ll take it myself.”
It should have been satisfying to watch Chewbacca wince in fear. Kylo should have felt pleasure in reaching out with the Force, inserting himself into the Wookiee’s mind, ripping away his memories and thoughts.
Instead, it was exhausting. He saw flashes of the Wookiee laughing with a much younger Han Solo than he himself remembered. Felt Chewbacca’s joy when his best friend married the woman he’d come to love like a sister. Saw the Wookiee cuddling a human toddler, teaching an older boy to fly a speeder, target practice with a young man, their blasters set on stun against a haphazard dummy made of rocks.
Uncle Chewie, he’d called him back then.
Nausea rolled around in the pit of Kylo’s stomach when he finally walked away from Interrogation Six. He’d gotten what he needed. Surely the sense of triumph would follow soon.
* * *
—
Inside the workshop, Rey watched Babu operate on C-3PO. The protocol droid’s head plate had been removed, and Babu was elbow-deep inside C-3PO’s head. Distantly, through the building’s stone walls, came the muted sound of screaming. Occasional blasterfire. Rey wasn’t sure if the First Order was tearing the city apart looking for them, or if it was like this all the time.
She looked toward Finn, who winced at every sound of battle. Not in fear, she noted, but in empathy. He was one of the kindest people she’d ever met. No, the kindest.
Rey had waited so long on Jakku for her parents to come back for her, scratching out the days against the metal wall of her AT-AT scavenged home. No one ever did. She had vague memories of Unkar Plutt raising her for a few years in a halfhearted, ham-fisted way, before booting her out into the desert to fend for herself as a little girl. Even he had never bothered to check on her. To care.
But then she’d met Finn, and after a short time together, she’d been captured by Kylo Ren and taken to Starkiller Base.
That’s when Finn had done something no one in her life had done before, the thing she’d yearned for her parents to do: He’d come to get her. At tremendous peril to himself. Before anyone knew she could wield a lightsaber or use the Force or any of it. She was nothing, just another scavenger from another godforsaken planet, when he’d risked his life to save hers. And she’d never forget it.
Sparks flew from C-3PO’s head, startling her. She couldn’t stand to watch anymore.
Rey stepped away, out of view, and hunkered down on the floor. BB-8 rolled over and whirred at her softly. Behind him came D-O, trailing BB-8 eagerly, his uni-wheel squeaking with every revolution.
Rey grabbed an oil can and moved toward the tiny droid, who recoiled at the sight of Rey looming over him, an unfamiliar object in her hand.
“It’s just oil,” she said gently. “Won’t hurt. I promise.”
* * *
—
Hux joined Pryde and Admiral Griss in following Supreme Leader Kylo Ren as he strode away from the hangar bay and interrogation rooms.
Ren said, “I wa
nt all the Wookiee’s belongings brought to my quarters.”
Hux hid his smile. Ren was practically frothing at the mouth. He had a history with his father’s copilot, and seeing the Wookiee had done something to him. The Supreme Leader was likely not thinking with a clear head. Good.
“Sir,” Allegiant General Pryde said. “The Knights of Ren have tracked the scavenger.”
Ren’s stride hitched.
“To a settlement called Kijimi,” Admiral Griss added.
“They’re searching there now,” Pryde said.
Hux needed to insert himself before his peers brought any more good news. He asked, “Shall we destroy the city, Supreme—”
Ren stuck a long finger in Hux’s face, effectively shushing him. “Set a course for Kijimi,” he said. “I want her taken alive.”
His words dismissed them all, and Kylo Ren hurried off alone. Hux stood with his hands clasped behind his back and watched him go, wondering how he always managed to say the wrong thing.
* * *
—
Snow was drifting down, melting against Zorii’s helmet. Poe stared at her. How do you say no to eyes like that?
He sighed. You think of everyone else you care about, that’s how. “I can’t walk out on this war,” Poe told Zorii. “Not until it’s over.”
As the Kijimi night grew even colder, Poe remembered something Leia was constantly reminding him: Always be recruiting.
“The Resistance could use a pilot like you,” he said to Zorii. Truly, she was one heck of a pilot, thanks in no small part to his teaching and encouragement. “We’re down to almost no one.”
Then he slammed his mouth shut. Admitting how dire things had become was likely not the best recruitment strategy. It was the damn skordu making him so flippant.
“Why?” she said. “You hear about pockets of rebellion all over the galaxy.”
“Just stories,” he murmured, looking down at his hands. “We put out a call for help at the Battle of Crait. Nobody came. First Order’s made everyone so afraid…that I’m afraid maybe everyone’s given up.”
