Resistance Reborn (Star Wars)

by Rebecca Roanhorse

  Norra had pocketed a comm device from one of the guards and had moved on to search the other. “You and I will have to get to Myrra undetected,” she said, not looking up, “but that shouldn’t be too hard at this time of the morning.”

  “What about the bodies?”

  Now she looked up at Wedge, surprised. “What?”

  “We should do something with them.” He gestured to the dead guards.

  “Leave them, Wedge,” Norra said, her voice quiet. “With Tukalda as a witness, what we’ve done won’t be a secret for long. We’ll tie her up and leave her in the tunnel, the bodies, too, but eventually…” Norra paused. “Unless you think…”

  She raised her blaster and gestured toward their unconscious neighbor.

  It made sense and would buy them some extra time. Plus, they could just leave all the bodies in the field, a mystery for the neighborhood and law enforcement to solve. But, no. Everyone had seen the X-wings. And many knew Wedge and Norra’s history. And…it was wrong. Tukalda was an annoyance, but she didn’t deserve to die.

  Wedge shook himself, getting rid of the fog in his brain. “You tie her up and gag her,” he said, making a decision. “I’ll start moving the bodies back behind the house. The tunnel is overkill. The west side of the house under the trees should be enough.”

  A house they could never come back to. A place that would no longer welcome them. Wedge knew it was the way of things, but it still stung. He had tried to make a home here. But the truth was, his home was out there in space. It always had been. And now he was heading back, once and for all.

  Norra nodded and holstered the blaster without further argument, and they got to work. Fifteen minutes later, while the sun rose in full over their farm, the field was pristine, as long as no one looked too closely at the spatter in the pepper beds. And Wedge and Norra were on their way to the capital city.

  POE PEERED OUT OF the cockpit of his borrowed starfighter. Behind him, and shrinking quickly, Ephemera swirled pink, blue, and green, a beautiful, tranquil marble that he was more than happy to leave behind. Disappointment sat heavy in his chest, and when BB-8 asked him what was wrong, Poe answered truthfully.

  “I guess I expected more,” he told the droid.

  BB-8 beeped a question.

  “More empathy for one,” Poe answered. “More passion for the Resistance, more information. Just…more. More everything.”

  BB-8 whirled in sympathy.

  “Maybe my expectations were too high,” Poe admitted. Or maybe the problem was the messenger more than the message. Maybe Maz didn’t trust him, didn’t respect him. These days, he barely trusted himself. The mission to Grail City with Black Squadron had been a reprieve, a moment of reassurance among the people who loved and trusted him most in the world. But now the doubts were closing in again, making him question how he was going to overcome the mistakes above D’Qar and the mess he had made on the Raddus. Black Squadron had at least understood, and Leia seemed to understand, even if he still suspected she was disappointed in him. He could only imagine how the rest of the galaxy, the people who weren’t his squadron or his friends, would react. Would every new person he met know about the errors in judgment he had committed and the huge cost in lives it had exacted? And if they didn’t know now, wouldn’t they eventually? It was a shame he would have to live with for the rest of his life, and the only thing he could think to do to make up for it was to give his all, everything he had—body and blood and soul—to rebuilding the Resistance.

  But here, his first mission out to secure the Resistance major support and he had failed miserably. Well, he supposed he had also failed to obtain any direct aid from the Grail City prime minister. He laughed to himself, low and bitter. So far things were going great, just great.

  BB-8 beeped, letting him know a call was incoming. He checked the frequency. It was the Millennium Falcon. For a moment his stomach dropped, his hand hesitating over the reply switch. What if the news was bad? What if something had happened to Leia and Finn and the others and he had failed them, too? He squeezed his eyes shut, forced himself to take a deep breath. BB-8 asked him again if he wanted to accept. Quickly, not allowing himself to overthink it any further, he asked BB-8 to put the call through.

  “This is Poe Dameron,” he said quickly. “Everything all right?”

  “Poe!” came an enthusiastic voice on the other end. “Good to hear your voice. You find Maz Kanata?”

  “Rose,” Poe said, recognizing the young maintenance worker’s voice. “Everything okay on the Falcon?”

  “Falcon’s on land,” Rose said. “We’re hoping you and Maz will join us.”

  “Maz isn’t coming,” Poe said, regret and annoyance coloring his voice. “I’m afraid she’s decided to sit this fight out.”

  “What? Why?”

  “She didn’t say,” Poe said, which wasn’t exactly true. But he wasn’t going to explain that Maz had her own priorities and they didn’t include the Resistance to a woman who had lost her sister in the evacuation of D’Qar. Poe hadn’t known Paige Tico well, but her sacrifice was etched into his memory. He was responsible for her death, too. It had been his command that had sent Paige’s bomber over the dreadnought Fulminatrix, a decision that had taken out the First Order’s monster ship—but at the expense of Paige’s life, among others. So many others. Blood on his hands, and he wouldn’t forget it. He wouldn’t regret it; unlike his mutiny, he still felt taking out the Fulminatrix was the right call. But he would not forget it.

  Rose was talking, and Poe pulled himself back to the conversation. “—shelter on Ryloth.”

  “The Ryloth system?” Poe asked, picking up the end of her sentence. “Did I hear that correctly?”

  “You did, Commander. Leia has secured us temporary shelter on Ryloth.”

  Poe laughed. Leave it to Leia to make his failure with Maz irrelevant. “How did Leia pull that one off? I thought Ryloth didn’t pick sides.”

  “She’s Leia,” Rose said simply.

  “She is, indeed,” he agreed.

  “I’m sending Beebee-Ate the coordinates now,” Rose said. Poe watched them come in and render on his display. He frowned. “This says head for the outermost moon. Is that correct?”

  “Ambassador Yendor has asked our starfighters to meet there. Once everyone’s collected, he’ll bring you in under cover.”

  “Ah,” Poe said. “So we’re not officially on Ryloth.”

  “It’s a bit of a stealth mission,” she admitted. “The government knows we’re here but they can’t acknowledge us. We’re working directly with the Ryloth Defense Authority.”

  “The Ryloth Defense Authority? I don’t know what that is, but it sounds promising.”

  “Leia can explain once you’re here. Any word from the rest of your squadron?” Rose asked.

  “Negative, but I’m just clearing planet orbital space. I’ll follow up with Black Teams One and Two shortly and give them the coordinates.”

  “Affirmative,” Rose said. “Leia also wants you to follow up with Inferno Squadron and give them the coordinates, too.”

  “Can do.”

  “Great. See you soon, Commander.”

  “Out,” Poe said, and ended the transmission. “Beebee-Ate, open a secure channel to Black Team One.”

  Seconds later, Snap Wexley’s voice came alive in his ear.

  “Is that you, Poe? Everything okay?”

  “All good, here, Snap. Checking in on the status of your mission and to give you coordinates to a meeting place.”

  Mild cursing filled Poe’s ear and a shouted “Yes!” before Snap’s voice came back clearly. “Copy that, Poe. And your timing is excellent. Karé and I have left Akiva with Norra and Wedge in hand.”

  “Any trouble?”

  “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Some local opposition and some less-than-effective surface-to
-air cannons. We took care of it.”

  “Good to hear,” Poe said. “And everything’s good with Wedge and…” Poe paused. He didn’t mean to pry, and asking Snap directly about his mother felt like prying. On the other hand, he was Snap’s commanding officer, and if one of his pilots was feeling mentally unfit or compromised for personal reasons, it was his business to know and take remedial action.

  “…and your mom?” Poe asked, keeping his voice neutral.

  “Oh, she’s crazy as ever,” Snap said with a low laugh. “But aren’t we all these days? It’s her life, right? I’m going to let her live it.”

  “Good to hear,” Poe said enthusiastically, but he made a note to follow up once they were all on Ryloth. “Sending coordinates to you now,” he added.

  A moment passed before Snap said, “Received. I’ll get them to the team. Listen, we’re going to make a couple of detours to see if we can find any of Phantom Squadron still kicking around.”

  “Phantom Squadron?” Poe asked, surprised. “They haven’t flown together since my mom was still an active pilot.” He remembered that Wedge had built Phantom Squadron back in the days of the New Republic, a squadron of castaways and burnouts, pilots who wouldn’t balk if their missions were less than sanctioned. They’d seen action in the liberation of Kashyyyk and again at Jakku, but that was about all that Poe knew about them.

  “We need people, right?” Snap asked.

  Not just people. Leia wanted leaders. But who knew who Snap might track down? “I’m listening.”

  “Won’t take long. We’ll see you on Ryloth before you know it.”

  “Watch your back out there, Snap,” Poe said.

  “Always do.”

  Poe ended the communication. “Beebee-Ate, can you—

  But he didn’t even have to finish his request before BB-8 had connected him to Black Team Two.

  “Poe!” Suralinda’s voice screamed in his ear. “I can only talk for a sec. Real busy here!”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, concerned. “Are you and Jess under fire?”

  “Uhh…you could say that.” Suralinda screamed. The communication went dead.

  “Beebee-Ate, what happened?”

  The droid beeped, just as distressed as Poe was.

  “Well, can you reconnect?” he asked.

  BB-8 answered.

  “Well, keep trying,” he said, the soft pulse of the unanswered transmission in his ear. He knew Suralinda and Jess were on Rattatak, a place notorious for its warlords and gladiatorial societies. The chances of them running up against the First Order there were minimal, but an encounter with the warlords of Rattatak was inevitable. He could delay his rendezvous on Ryloth to go to Rattatak, but even if he left now, where would he start his search for Black Team Two? It was a big planet, and he had nothing to go on but Suralinda’s vague assurances that there was an ex-Imperial there who was sympathetic to the Resistance, or at least hostile to the First Order. He assumed that wasn’t something one advertised openly, even in a place like Rattatak. He exhaled some of the jumpy energy eating at his nerves. No, running to Rattatak to try to save the day would just be more reckless behavior. He had to trust Suralinda and Jess to handle themselves, even if he didn’t like it.

  He was about to ask BB-8 to end the communication attempt, when Jess’s voice popped into his ear.

  “Poe?” she asked loudly. “Is that you?”

  “Jess,” he breathed, relieved. “We got cut off. Everything all right?”

  “Oh yeah. I just tagged Suralinda into the ring, so she had to go.” He realized now Jess was panting like she had been running, deep heaving breaths. A roar went up somewhere in the background like the sound of a crowd.

  “Where are you?”

  “Barterus. Gladiatorial ring. The ex-Imperial Suralinda was looking for? Teza Nasz? She wouldn’t see us unless we bested her greatest warriors in hand-to-hand combat, so Suralinda thought—”

  Poe swore. “Suralinda thought she’d throw two very much needed Resistance pilots into the death pits of Rattatak for the sake of simply talking to an ex-Imperial who may or may not be of help to us?”

  A moment of silence and then another crowd roar. Jess’s voice came back, chagrined. “Well, when you put it that way.”

  “Get out of there, Jess,” Poe said, decisively. “It’s not worth losing either one of you. We need you flying for Black Squadron more than we need this Teza Nasz.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that, Poe. The Rattataki don’t take kindly to quitters. It’s sort of a win-or-die situation. But don’t worry. We got this in hand. Oh!”

  Something crashed in the distance, and then the distinct sound of a vibro-ax sparking to life roared through the comm.

  “I’m up! Gotta go, Poe. Don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry. Easy for her to say. “Beebee-Ate will send rendezvous coordinates to your onboard. Just get there as soon as you can. Don’t mess around. And don’t die! That’s an order.”

  “Order received,” Jess shouted, and then she was gone, the transmission dead.

  “Insanity,” Poe said, irritated, but part of him had to laugh. He was the commander of Black Squadron for a reason, and it was becoming more apparent every day that the reason was they were a bunch of hotheads who deserved one another. There was little he could do now but get back to Leia and company and hope that Jess and Suralinda hadn’t bit off more than they could chew.

  Poe asked BB-8 to make one last call.

  “Shriv here.”

  “Shriv, it’s Poe. How’s your mission going?”

  “Oh, you know. Lots of flying around and getting doors slammed in our faces. But we did find a couple of old friends of the Rebellion. I think Leia will be pleased.”

  “We’re headed for Ryloth. You think Inferno Squad can join us?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Great. We’re sending the coordinates now.”

  Shriv confirmed. “Received. We’re on our way.”

  “See you there.”

  He ended the call. “Are we ready to jump, Beebee-Ate?”

  BB-8 answered, and Poe laughed. “Well, sorry to keep you waiting. Ready when you are.”

  Poe took one last look at Ephemera, now no more than a pink speck far behind him. Then he and BB-8 were leaving the planet behind in a blur of stars.

  “LEIA, ARE YOU THERE?” Yendor’s voice came through the speaker at her ear. “We’ve got a problem.”

  Leia had been sitting back at the communications console on the Millennium Falcon, doing nothing. That wasn’t quite fair. She was worrying. And trying not to think about why she still hadn’t heard from Resistance allies and contemplating what they would need to mount any kind of useful strike against the First Order and how many things could go wrong along the way. So that was something, just the wrong kind of something.

  Yendor had offered her a room and a bed in the expansive national-museum-turned-defense-authority-headquarters. In fact, he had offered her his room. But she had declined, not only because it felt wrong to dislodge him from his chambers, but because she preferred the Falcon. Yendor had not pursued the issue, and she had not explained further. If she had been pressed, she would have said that she wanted to stay close to the communications deck and hoped everyone was polite enough to overlook the Falcon’s missing dish and the RDA’s perfectly functional communications console and accept her obvious lie. The real reason was that the ship had become a consolation, a familiar place that reminded her of Han and happier times and fueled her sense of hope. She could sit in the hard-backed chair in front of the deck and almost hear Han’s voice shouting some outrageous maneuver at Chewie or complaining that, once again, the hyperdrive wouldn’t engage. She found herself more than once laughing quietly to herself over a memory of flying off on some wild adventure or ill-conceived scheme th
at had been hatched right here where she sat. She could almost see Han’s cocky smile, his insouciant slouch as he talked her into yet another debacle. Perhaps it was foolish to dwell on such nostalgia, but it gave her solace, and she clung to it. The Falcon felt like home.

  “What is it, Yendor?” she asked, leaving her small comforts behind and focusing on the moment before her.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’ll come down,” she said.

  “No,” he countered. “I’ll come to you. Are you on the Falcon?”

  “Yes. Chewie can let you in.”

  She had not been the only one more comfortable on the ship than in Ryloth’s caves. Chewie and Rey had stayed, too. Rose had volunteered to stay, but Leia had encouraged her, Connix, and Finn to stay in the accommodations offered and work with Charth to prepare for the imminent arrival of Black Squadron and the others. Poe had confirmed that they were coming, and that they were bringing almost a dozen others including former members of Phantom Squadron, two former rebel commanders that Zay and Shriv had found after all, and an ex-Imperial that Black Squadron had tracked down. It was a motley bunch to say the least, but Leia was eager to see them all.

  The distant sound of a door opening was followed by the steady fall of footsteps as someone approached. Leia stood as Yendor entered. He was wearing a long navy-blue robe belted at the waist. He still wore the golden headpiece around the base of his lekku, but the rest of his clothing seemed toned down, almost somber.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He gestured for her to sit and she did. He joined her at the table, leaning in as he folded his hands in front of him. “We’ve gotten word of the First Order in Lessu.”

  “What?” Leia felt suddenly dizzy, her blood pressure rocketing. “We were careful,” she said, mind racing. “They couldn’t have followed us.”

  “I don’t think they did,” Yendor said, offering a steadying hand that he folded briefly over hers. “It seems their presence here is a coincidence. A terribly timed one, but…” He spread his hands. “…not your fault.”