Silence so thick Poe was sure he could hear his own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and continued.
“We can take joy in this victory,” he assured them. “We made opportunity where there wasn’t any”—his gaze cut briefly to Shriv—“we freed those who were unjustly imprisoned, and we’ve found those who will mold the future of the Resistance. We can be proud.”
A round of applause that quickly died down when he raised his hand.
“But this is just a first step,” he said with a nod of acknowledgment to Leia, “and we cannot rest.”
“What do we do next? Where do we go?” someone shouted. Heads turned. It was the young pilot, Agoyo.
“Anywhere,” Poe said. “Everywhere. Every corner of the galaxy where someone is fighting tyranny, where someone is standing up against injustice. Because the Resistance is not just in this room. It is not only the people on that list. In fact, it is not one person or one place. It is a million people, a thousand places, each one the Resistance.
“So, what do we do now? We scatter to every corner of the galaxy, taking our message with us. We help those already fighting the First Order, we make allies, we sow the spark of resistance. And when the time comes, we will be ready. We will rise up, and we will fight. And all of us, together, will burn the First Order to the ground.”
More shouting and applause, and then he was surrounded, people slapping him on the back and laughing and calling his name in celebration. He soaked it all in, letting it wash his past away, allowing it to lift him to a better place. A future.
“Poe.”
It was Wedge, his arm in a sling, and beside him Norra. “We’re going, Poe,” he said. “I know you and Leia were hoping we’d stay around and lead or whatever, but…” He shook his head. “I…we…belong out there. In the stars. I know that now.”
“We know that now,” Norra added, slipping her hand into her husband’s. “And we can do good out there in the margins, like you said. Let people know a fight is coming.”
“We’re pilots, not generals,” Wedge added. “You understand.”
Poe nodded. He did understand. And it wasn’t a complete surprise. “You’ll keep in touch?”
“Snap will know how to reach me.”
“Have you told him?”
“Told me what?” Snap asked as he took the stairs two at a time to join them.
“We’re leaving, son,” Norra said, her voice soft, patient.
Snap’s face clouded. “What? But you just got here.”
“I know,” Wedge said, “and now we need to go.”
“I’ll go with you,” Snap said hurriedly.
“I need you here, Black Squadron,” Poe countered gently.
“But…” Snap looked at each of them, helplessly, scanning their faces for something. And whatever he saw there shuddered through his body as acceptance. “You always do this to me,” he murmured before asking, “You sure you have to go?”
“We’ll see you again,” Wedge assured him.
“We promise,” Norra added. She stepped forward and wrapped her son in a hug, arms tight around his big frame, before he could say no. But Poe didn’t think he would have said no, anyway, that much was clear from the way he melted into his mother’s embrace. Then Wedge was there, folding both mother and son into his arms and Poe stepped away to let the family say their goodbyes.
“Great speech,” Finn said, bounding up the steps, a glass in each hand. He handed Poe a drink, something dark and unpleasantly thick. “You’re getting pretty good at those.”
“Thanks.” Poe took a tentative sip. Awful. He set the mug down.
“So when do we leave?” Finn asked, eyes big over the edge of his glass as he drank.
Poe cocked an eyebrow. “You coming with?”
“I don’t think you can stop me.”
“Where are we going?” asked a familiar voice. Both men turned to find Rey, looking expectant.
Finn grinned. “I didn’t want to ask.”
Rey grinned back. “You didn’t have to.”
The two friends laughed, leaning in to touch shoulders in acknowledgment. Rey looked at Poe, eyes narrowed as if unsure. “You don’t mind?”
Poe pressed a hand to his heart, giving Rey a small bow. “I’m honored.”
She flushed, pleased, as he’d hoped she would be.
As he straightened, he caught Leia watching them, an expression he couldn’t quite read on her face. He looked back, eyebrow raised. Ah, he recognized that look now. Satisfaction.
“She knows,” Rey said, drawing his attention back.
“Know’s what?” Finn asked.
“That the Resistance is in good hands,” Poe said, quietly. “That we won’t fail her.”
“Because of the Force?” Finn asked, sounding slightly awed.
“I don’t think Leia needs the Force to tell her that,” Rey said.
“Ah! Right! She knows because she’s got us.”
Poe slung an arm around Finn’s shoulders and pulled Rey in close on the opposite side.
“That’s right,” Poe said. “She’s got us.
“Now let’s go save the galaxy.”
To my big brother, Tony, who let his annoying little sister play with his action figures (even Boba Fett) and rarely complained. Look what you started!
Look, Mom! I wrote a Star War!
But I didn’t do it alone. Thank you to the wonderful team that got me here.
To Tom, my patient and understanding editor, who always had a fix for my bad plot holes, a kind word for my ideas even when they were questionable (skywriting!), and approved when I said I wanted to try to get the gang all back together again.
To Jen, Matt, and Pablo of Lucasfilm who kept me on track and generously shared their vast and frankly intimidating knowledge of all things Star Wars with me.
To Elizabeth and everyone at Del Rey who read drafts and gave input and made me feel like maybe it was all going to be okay.
To my husband, Mike, and daughter, Maya, who watched the movies, games, animation, and everything else with me many, many times, who tolerated the past six months of insanity and me constantly yelling, “I can’t do anything else because I’m writing a Star War,” and who never hesitated to bring me coffee at 3 A.M., as if that was an entirely reasonable request.
To Sara, my superstar agent. Forget world domination. We’re aiming for the galaxy now.
And thanks to everyone, especially the Indigenerds, who celebrated this awesomeness with me. I see you and I love you all.
BY REBECCA ROANHORSE
Trail of Lightning
Storm of Locusts
Race to the Sun
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
REBECCA ROANHORSE is a Hugo, Nebula, and Locus award-winning speculative fiction writer. She also won the Campbell Award for Best New Writer in 2018. Her novels Trail of Lightning and Storm of Locusts are part of the Sixth World series. She lives in northern New Mexico with her husband, daughter, and pups.
rebeccaroanhorse.com
Twitter: @RoanhorseBex
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Resistance Reborn (Star Wars) Page 30