Poe Dameron

by Lucasfilm Press

  He swerved the Claw out of the path of the creature’s mouth, and the change in perspective showed him they were close to the surface of a planetoid, buildings and structures littering the landscape as the mammoth, slithering, scaly creature pivoted to keep pace with the ship. The monster—long, large, and terrifying—possessed a graceful quality, almost as if it was swimming underwater rather than flying through space after their damaged ship.

  “A garsath,” Vigilch spat, apparently familiar with the monster. “They’re massive. Bloodthirsty. It’s indestructible—we have to—”

  “It’s right behind us,” Zorii noted, shaking her head. “And I don’t think we lost the Zualjinn—”

  “I see them,” Poe said. The three ships seemed no worse for wear, even after the jumps—two on their left and another lagging behind on the right. Poe shifted the Claw, aiming toward the rampaging creature.

  “How’s that tracker coming along, Marinda? Really hoping you’ll say ‘It’s off, Poe, don’t worry,’” Poe said, sounding urgent and a bit desperate. “Not that many jumps left on this path, in case you needed added motivation.”

  “We’ve made some progress,” Marinda Gan said, tapping at her terminal angrily. “But not enough. We’re only getting past the initial firewall.”

  “Not ideal, not ideal,” Poe said, shifting the Claw’s course drastically. The ship shook as it veered right. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “We’re heading…toward the beast?” Zorii asked.

  Poe didn’t answer. The ship chugged forward, straining at the uptick in speed. He heard his crewmates talking around him—some yelling, some questioning—but pushed the sounds away. All he could register was the garsath’s wide, hungry mouth—waiting for the Claw to reach it.

  As the ship reached the creature, Poe pulled up—hard. The Claw shrieked—the bottom of the vessel scraping against the monster’s face. Then there was a loud crash as the pursuing Zualjinn ship exploded, sending the garsath spinning backward.

  SHUNT.

  Darkness. Screaming. A wave of fire from an unknown ship. The smell of rust and blood.

  “Tracker,” Poe said, the word sounding more like a cough. He was seeing double for a moment. “Report?”

  Poe looked back and saw Marinda Gan writhing on the floor, Gen Tri standing over her. The ship was an array of moving shapes and flickering lights.

  “We’re almost there,” they said with some hesitation. It didn’t inspire much confidence in Poe. “But we need—”

  “More time, more time, yup, I get it,” Poe said, nodding to himself as he tried to pull the ship back under his control, the multiple jumps taking a massive toll on its instrumentation. “We got one more jump on this path and then we’re out of luck. Any idea where those ships are?”

  “One ship gone, probably providing a choking hazard for the garsath,” Zorii said dryly. “But there are still two right behind us—and they don’t seem as affected by the jumps as we’ve been.”

  “Meaning they can fly and shoot,” Poe said incredulously. “Great.”

  “Can we take another attack, Zorii?” Vigilch spat. “Where do we stand?”

  “We risk losing vital systems if we take another hit or two,” Zorii said grimly. “Our only hope is to—”

  “On it,” Poe said. He braced himself. They were running out of options.

  SHUNT.

  “—think we cracked the track—”

  “One of the Zualjinn ships just exploded—”

  “I can’t breathe…. I can’t…”

  “Poe? Poe? We need to get—”

  Poe tried to shake off the cacophony of sounds, tried to focus on his display. They were out of options. The path had been spent. All the programmed locations hit. The ship was barely holding together. He couldn’t tell which crew members were still upright, much less alive.

  “Report? Report?” Poe said, screaming the last word. “Where’s that damn tracker?”

  “We’re almost there—it’s almost disabled. Just…a few more moments…”

  It was Marinda Gan, sounding shaky and tired. Poe didn’t dare turn around.

  “The last Zualjinn ship is coming in fast, it seems unaffected,” Zorii said. “They’re targeting us.”

  Poe could feel her eyes on him. They both knew the score. If they took another jump, it’d be a complete gamble. If the tracker wasn’t disabled now or soon, the Zualjinn would be on them, and the Claw might not be able to jump—or move—again.

  Poe picked the jump location, figuring if he was going to risk everything, he might as well gamble big. As the ship lurched into the skip, he thought he heard Marinda Gan scream something.

  “All in,” Poe whispered to himself.

  SHUNT.

  Poe’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up, the pressure pushing him back into his seat. The ship was moving. Fast. He felt his forehead. Blood. He looked around. Zorii was climbing back into her seat, her movements slow, stiff, and confused. Vigilch was on the floor, clutching his stomach. Tomasso was near the back of the bridge, helping Gen Tri to their feet. He couldn’t figure out where Marinda Gan had gone.

  The terminal readings were off the charts. The ship was shaking, its shields were gone, and they had no firepower. He knew that the dizziness he was feeling couldn’t make the world around him move the way it was. They were in complete free fall.

  But falling where?

  The only sound was the high-pitched drone of the ship as it tumbled toward the surface. Poe reached for the controls and tried to pull the ship up. It was working—but not fast enough. In a few moments, they’d be crashing directly into the ground of some unknown wasteland.

  “We’re not going to make it,” Gen Tri said, their words hanging over Poe like some kind of toxic cloud. Poe’s throat tightened as they continued to speak. “It’s been truly an—”

  “Hit the brakes on the eulogies, Gen Tri,” Poe said, tapping the ship’s thrusters—getting more of a response than he expected. While logic would suggest he not accelerate into their demise, Poe had angled the ship enough that a little push was just what he needed. “Zorii, can you blast the ground? Create a streak—a runway of some kind?”

  “What does that even mean?” Vigilch said, groaning slightly as he got to his feet.

  Zorii ignored their leader. She understood what Poe meant. Now all they needed was for it to work. The gravity pull got heavier—pushing everything back as the Claw propelled toward the lush surface of the planet. The green ground fell apart as the ship got closer—firepower from the Claw’s blasters creating a path of destruction that, if Poe’s idea was right, would soften the impact on the bottom of the ship. If that was how it all played, he thought.

  “Thruster power dwindling,” Zorii said. “Hope you got the angle you wanted, because we don’t have much juice left.”

  Poe nodded. He allowed himself a split second to appreciate that Zorii, at least, understood what he was trying to do. She looked at Poe and gave him a brief nod, as if to say, We tried. Poe cracked a small smile, but that was all he could spare. The Claw was at an odd angle, and even with the added push of the thrusters, it still seemed like it was on a deadly collision course with the rock and dirt of the planet. He pulled up again, trying to use whatever power the ship had over itself to their advantage.

  “Brace for impact,” Tomasso said, standing next to Gen Tri, his voice emotionless and remote. “Hold on to what—”

  The ship crashed, slamming into the ground at an odd angle—sending everyone in different directions. Poe shot from his seat, hurtling toward the ship’s back wall. The last thing he remembered was the sight of Zorii’s hand, reaching out to him—trying to keep him close. But then the screams and sounds went quiet, the shaking stopped, and Poe’s vision went black.

  Poe was the first one to wake up.

  He got to his feet slowly. His right arm ached and his mouth tasted coppery and dry. The Ragged Claw barely resembled a ship—the bridge was a mess of exposed wires, smoke, electri
cal sparks, and metal plating. Tomasso and Vigilch were slumped together at odd angles in a far corner. Poe could also see Gen Tri hunched over the nearest terminal, Marinda Gan at their feet. But he ran to Zorii first.

  She was crumpled on the floor about a meter from her station, her face covered in dust and dirt, a deep cut down her right arm. But she was breathing. Poe crouched down and patted her cheek gently. She didn’t respond. He gripped her shoulders and leaned in.

  “Zorii? You there, Zorii?” Poe said, his tone growing more desperate the more time passed without a response. “C’mon, Zorii—”

  Her eyes opened—surprise and fear jolting her awake. She clutched Poe’s armed and looked around, then reached for her temples.

  “Poe…what…what happened?”

  “We made it. The tracker was disabled,” Tomasso said across the bridge, cautiously limping toward a terminal for balance. “We’re alive.”

  “We’re not only alive…” Marinda Gan said as she scanned a readout from her station. “We’re on Sorgan. Poe’s last jump brought us here…. Quite the risk there, flyboy.”

  “Any sign of the Zualjinn?” Gen Tri asked. “If we brought them here…”

  “Nothing,” Marinda Gan said. “If we’re lucky, they were destroyed. Either way, they didn’t follow us here. They couldn’t.”

  Poe looked back and caught the others doing their own versions of Tomasso’s climb—slowly regaining their footing, scanning the ship to figure out just how they were still alive.

  “Good to see you awake,” Poe said, softly patting Zorii’s cheek. She shook him off and got to her feet.

  “Thanks to you,” she said, her gaze steely and focused. “You made a crazy idea work. You are quite the pilot, Poe Dameron.”

  “Just tried to keep a level head and give us some time to dismantle that tracker,” Poe said with a nod. “Though, I’m not sure I ever want to jump like that again…if I can help it.”

  A firm hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him back. Then he was being spun around and brought face to face with Vigilch, who sported a very un-Vigilch grin underneath the cuts and bruises on his face. The burly Klatooinian lifted Poe up, his throaty, haunting laugh echoing through the Ragged Claw’s shattered bridge.

  “Well done, Poe Dameron,” Vigilch said. “Welcome to the Spice Runners of Kijimi.”

  “Are you sure you spoke to Tomasso about this?”

  Poe turned to Zorii and gave her a quick, noncommittal shrug.

  “That gives me zero assurances,” she said sharply. But Poe could sense the smile on her face, even if he couldn’t see it in the pitch-black Sorgan night.

  Zorii followed Poe onto the Ragged Claw, trying to keep their footfalls light as they boarded the ship. The rest of the team had called it a night, leaving Poe and Zorii up and chatting—as things often went on Sorgan. It’d been a busy few days—spent mostly on tedious, often repetitive tasks: gathering provisions, scouting their next assignment, and training, all while recovering mentally and physically from their frantic hyperspace-jumping escape. They’d just finished up repairs on the Claw, and everything about the vessel felt unsteady and unfinished.

  “Technically, he just said that, yes, the Claw needed a test run—to ensure it was back up to speed,” Poe said, sliding into his pilot’s seat and flicking a few switches. “So, that feels like tacit approval.”

  “‘Tacit approval’?” Zorii said, standing behind him, leaning on the back of his seat. He could feel her warm breath on his neck. “Are you a diplomat or a spice runner, Poe?”

  “I’m a complex individual,” Poe said, glancing back. “Now, hop in.”

  Poe stood and stepped away from the pilot’s seat quickly, motioning with his arm for Zorii to take his place.

  “You can’t be serious?” Zorii said. “Now? I thought this was—a test flight? Like, practice. I’d watch you and…”

  “The best way to learn is to do,” Poe said, motioning again for Zorii to sit. “That’s what my mom always told me.”

  Zorii took the seat cautiously, keeping her hands on her legs, as if touching the console might send the ship throttling into orbit.

  Poe leaned forward, his hand hovering over the terminal.

  “You ready?”

  “No,” she said, her voice dry. “This is very different than just talking about it.”

  “Zorii, you’re extremely sharp. I’d say the sharpest, even,” Poe said, their eyes meeting. “We’ve done all the talking we can. Now, we do.”

  Zorii nodded and faced the controls. Poe could see her take a second to assess the situation before moving forward—with confidence and calculation. She tapped the opening sequence of buttons. The ship’s engines started. Her hands jumped a bit at the first sound, but it was almost imperceptible, and she moved on to the next steps with a focus and precision that brought a smile to Poe’s face.

  The Claw shuddered before it began a wobbly ascent.

  Poe watched, making minor suggestions every so often, as Zorii took the ship into orbit. The vast expanse of space dominated the ship’s viewscreen, adding to the eerie quiet, in stark contrast to the frantic bustle and chaos of the last few times they’d been on the ship together—with their fellow Spice Runners of Kijimi.

  “We could go anywhere,” Poe said, resting his hand on the back of Zorii’s seat.

  “Is that what you want?”

  Zorii’s response pulled him back to the present. He leaned over and tapped a button Zorii had overlooked—trying to soften the blow of her mistake by making it seem trivial, his movement slow and slight. It didn’t work.

  “Damn, can’t believe I missed that,” she muttered.

  “It’s fine,” Poe said. “You’re doing great.”

  He watched her. Hands on the directional controls, eyes focused on what was in front of her. She was nervous, he could tell, but also locked into the task at hand and unwilling to fail. Zorii Wynn was mysterious in many ways, but her drive and intensity were no secret.

  “Your mom taught you…how to fly?” Zorii said after a few moments of silence.

  “Yeah, she’d take me up in her A-wing when I was a kid,” Poe said, trying to keep it light—but already finding himself transported to the past, feeling the warmth of his mother around him, the familiarity of her voice and smell. “Just the basics, you know—a few tricks. She loved to teach. Loved the idea that she’d be able to see me…”

  His voice trailed off. The words wouldn’t come anymore. He swallowed hard and was about to continue. But before he could speak he felt Zorii’s hand gripping his.

  She let go as abruptly, retaking the ship’s controls and moving the Claw through an unexpected wave of debris. The execution was solid, if a bit stiff, and Poe was impressed.

  “Well done there,” Poe said. “I didn’t even have to buckle up.”

  She allowed herself to look back and give Poe a brief but genuine smile.

  “Don’t want to lose points for being asleep on the job,” she said.

  Poe let out a short laugh and felt his body loosen up. The muscles seemed to relax for the first time in weeks. He’d needed this. A few minutes of…fun. Sometimes he’d forget that he and Zorii weren’t hardened criminals—they were teenagers.

  “Where would you want to go?”

  “Hm?” Poe responded, too caught up in his own head to register what Zorii was asking.

  “You said, ‘We could go anywhere,’” Zorii said. “So where would you want to go, Poe Dameron?”

  “I—well, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine,” Zorii said with a chuckle. “I’m not going to snitch on you to Vigilch or Tomasso. We all have our dreams. Though I am worried…”

  “Worried?” Poe asked. “About what?”

  Zorii tapped at a few of the ship’s directional controls before responding, letting Poe simmer for a moment.

  “That you’d try to leave without me,” she said, not looking back to catch his expression.

  Poe started to respond
but was interrupted by a warning chime from the Claw. Zorii checked the display, then turned to Poe.

  “Incoming transmission,” she said.

  “From where?” Poe asked.

  “The surface,” she said, checking the readout. “We’ve been caught.”

  Poe sighed.

  “I guess it wasn’t going to last forever,” Poe said.

  “These moments rarely do,” she said.

  Zorii flipped a switch, allowing the transmission to play over the ship’s speakers. The voice boomed through, the tone resigned but also unsurprised.

  “Bring the ship back immediately and I’ll forget to mention this to not only your crewmates, but to my own leader,” Tomasso said. Poe wasn’t sure if he was imagining a slight tinge of humor in the old pirate’s voice. “Consider your joyride over.”

  Before Poe or Zorii could respond, the line went dead.

  They looked at each other for a moment, their eyes wide and mouths forced shut—a combination of anxiety and surprise—before bursting into a wave of joyous, uncontrolled laughter.

  “What the hell are these things?”

  Poe could barely hear Marinda Gan’s scream as he tried to dodge another barrage of fire. The ships—small drone-like vehicles that looked more like giant bugs than modes of transport—were everywhere, firing at the Ragged Claw from every angle. Poe had managed to minimize some of the damage, but the Claw was already hurting, and they were still far from their destination.

  It had been about a month since Poe joined the Spice Runners—and much had changed. In the short-term, the group had gotten a new mission from the highest rungs of the Spice Runners of Kijimi’s command structure: to locate a female Zabrak mercenary named Ledesmar, who’d absconded with a fleet’s worth of ships from the Pyke Syndicate, a fading but still formidable galactic criminal organization. But that wasn’t Poe’s immediate concern. They’d only scraped together a few days of rest after the Zualjinn affair before they’d had to focus on the next job. The crew was tired, edgy, and under heavy fire.

  “It’s Moraysian tech,” Zorii said, raising her voice to be heard over the chaos on the ship. Moraysi was a mining system on the edge of the Outer Rim, populated by a race of tan, stout humanoids who were known for their shipbuilding and inventiveness—but also an ability to actualize their schematics. Thinkers and workers, an honorable, hardworking people, they’d found themselves overrun by groups like the Pykes for the past few generations—forced to use their abilities to arm and equip thieves, bounty hunters, criminal syndicates, and spice runners.