Galaxy's Edge

by Delilah S. Dawson

  Vi forced her ship’s nose down, but she wasn’t fast enough, and the transport was too cumbersome. The smaller ship caught the transport in an impatient and impersonal burst of laserfire as it buzzed past, and Vi felt the impact in every bone of her body. The transport shuddered and wailed a complaint. Red light flooded the cockpit, an alarm blared, and Archex groaned from where he’d fallen on the floor.

  “I prefer the autopilot,” Pook complained. “You’ve tangled my wires.”

  Vi had no time for either of them. Alone on the galaxy’s edge, with the Resistance already suffering, knowing that this ship was the best they could offer her, there was no one to call for help, no convenient squadron of X-wings to scream in and escort them to safety. And now her comm array was down, too, not that there were any Resistance allies within hailing distance. She had to get the ship planetside—and keep everyone on it alive and functional.

  “Hold on!” she barked. “It’s gonna be a bumpy landing.”

  “Lieutenant Moradi is generally an excellent pilot, for a human,” Pook offered. “Not today, but generally.”

  “Shut it, or I’ll open the hatch,” Vi warned. “Let me concentrate!”

  It took everything Vi had to get that ship into atmo straight-on, and even if they were coming in hot, at least they were headed in the right direction. The transport’s nav system kept trying to send her directly to the docks at Black Spire Outpost, but Vi politely but firmly steered toward an old-growth forest off to the west, where her scans showed the fewest life signs. Towering, rocky spires poked up through tall evergreens that nearly scraped the clouds. At least the weather was pleasant; if Vi was going to die in a violent fireball as she plummeted to the surface of a planet in the middle of nowhere, she’d rather do it with a cheerful blue sky as the backdrop.

  “Looks like a nice place,” Archex said, the calm of his voice betrayed by the whiteness of his knuckles gripping the arms of his chair. “I’d hate to die here.”

  “You’re not going to,” Vi snapped through gritted teeth. “But you might want to find somewhere to strap in instead of clinging to a chair that’s mostly for show.”

  Archex almost said something cutting, but instead he shut his mouth and hurried into the cargo area, where Pook politely told him his chances of dying depending on where he was when the ship crashed.

  “We’re not going to crash!” Vi shouted.

  “Humans will believe anything,” the droid muttered sadly.

  Vi pulled up as the ship approached the treetops. They were going too fast, but there wasn’t much she could do about it, so she tried to skim over the trees to lose some velocity. The trees didn’t respond well to that strategy, and soon the ship went from skimming like a stone skipped over water to crashing through the upper layers of the forest like a mad rancor, breaking branches and cracking through ancient trunks as it slowed and plummeted. They clipped a spire, knocking off its tip—a worthy trade for reducing speed, in Vi’s opinion.

  Her safety harness kept her in place but did nothing to shield her from the knocks that nearly tore her head off her neck. Luckily, she was panicking too much to feel pain, but in the back of her mind she knew it would return with a vengeance—if she lived.

  Finally the ship came to a trembling halt, trapped in thick branches and feathery needles. An inquisitive bird-thing flapped down and, for the briefest of moments, stared at Vi through the viewport, blinking brightly. Then the old transport tipped, nose down, and arrowed for the ground far below.

  “LIEUTENANT MORADI, IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT you achieve wakefulness.”

  Vi drew a breath and her head exploded in stuffy agony, her vision flashing red with stars around the edges.

  “Do I have to?” she groaned.

  Cold metal gently probed along Vi’s neck and head, and when she opened her eyes she was staring into a circular black screen set against a backdrop of green leaves.

  “Back off, Pook,” she muttered. “It’s rude to stare.”

  Whoever had designed the PK droid had not put a single thought into making its design personable. Pook’s head had no familiar and friendly anthropomorphic features, and even if that big black circle where his face should’ve been was actually an advanced-level scanner, Vi would’ve appreciated the tiniest suggestion of eyes, maybe a smiling mouth. At least astromechs looked perky.

  “Your neck is, as Archex so elegantly put it, a mess,” Pook explained. “There is extensive nerve damage and a bulging disk, along with repetitive stress injuries and spinal stenosis. You have the spine of a ninety-year-old woman.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Vi attempted to sit up, but Pook’s three-fingered hand pressed on her upper chest, which felt like one giant bruise.

  “Remain supine,” he warned her. “I have not completed my scan. Archex is concerned about the dangers posed by the local population, but it is too late for that. The damage is done, and all is apparently lost.”

  At that, Vi hinged upright to sitting, immediately regretting that instinct and putting a hand to her neck as she winced. “What do you mean, it’s too late? Were we taken prisoner?”

  “Worse,” Archex said. He sat on the ground nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him. He had a purpling bruise on his forehead, but at least there was no blood. “We’ve been scavenged.”

  Vi looked around. Their transport lay right-side up as if it had landed properly…except its blunt nose was squashed flat. It looked like it had been eaten, digested, and eliminated by an exogorth. The cargo hold door was gone—not just open but gone—and the cavernous space inside was nearly bare.

  “But Pook should’ve stopped them!” Vi shouted, standing and trying to both catch her breath and not fall over with dizziness.

  “I regret to inform you that I was unable to do so through no fault of my own.”

  When she looked to the droid, she saw the problem: Only half of Pook was there. He had his head, neck, torso, and one arm, but the rest of him was gone.

  “Were we attacked? Did they cut you in half?”

  Vi couldn’t believe it. Her intel had suggested that the denizens of Black Spire Outpost weren’t overly violent—just local farmers, merchants, and the usual actors in the sort of not-quite-savory economy that tended to grow around a spaceport. After her visit to Parnassos to dig up the dirty truth on Captain Phasma, Vi always did her research on the general attitude and lethality of the local populace whenever she was given a new assignment.

  “I was shielding Archex from harm per the general’s orders,” Pook explained mournfully. “My lower half became unmoored during the crash. When the scavengers arrived, they exclaimed over the value of my extremities and enthused over selling me to a being they called Mubo. When Archex awoke, they swiftly retreated before completing my utter demolition. I am worthless now. Please reset my memory core so that I can forget what it was like to be complete.”

  “Sorry I didn’t wake up earlier,” Archex said, sounding like a kid who’d gotten a bad score on an important exam.

  Vi gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, well, don’t blame me for being unconscious and I won’t blame you.” Noting where each of them was currently located, she realized that Archex must’ve wrangled her out of her harness and dragged her over to Pook for a scan, an act that would’ve cost him dearly. She didn’t thank him; she could tell it would only make him feel worse.

  The world finally stopped spinning, and Vi staggered over to the transport to confirm what she already knew: Everything of value had been taken. Even the uncomfortable seats she’d repeatedly cursed had been unbolted from the floor. Interior panels showed naked places where wires had been ripped out.

  “Looks like we got hit by a swarm of Dardanellian locusts,” Vi said, one hand on the transport so she wouldn’t fall right over. “The nerf herders even stole my hat! And my knitting bag!” She ventured a little deeper and punched the tr
ansport wall, bruising her knuckles. “And my wigs!” Thank heavens she’d pinned this one on well before her trip to Cerea.

  Archex stood, a painful affair that showed just how useless his left leg was, especially without the painkillers that had been stolen along with their medkits. Trying and failing to hide his limp, he hobbled to her side, and she did wonder if he intended to catch her if she fell, or perhaps merely wanted to keep his voice low in case enemy combatants were near.

  “So what do we do now? Can you contact your general for orders?”

  Vi noted that he didn’t say our general. “We’re too far out, and I’m willing to bet they’ve pulled out our long-range comm system.” She leaned into the transport, saw the state of the cockpit, and winced. “Yeah, it’s gone, and the friendly fire from that welcoming party took out the array. We might be able to pay for the privilege of using someone else’s equivalent in town, but…then anyone could trace it back to the Resistance, and the First Order would pay a high price for that knowledge.” She exhaled through her nose. “Unbelievable. We had everything we needed to establish an outpost, and now it’s all gone. I have some credits from the general for incidentals, but nowhere close to enough. We’re going to have to use most of what I have just to buy back Pook’s butt.”

  “I thought the Resistance was well funded,” Archex said.

  Vi snorted. “We were. And then the Hosnian Cataclysm happened. And then Crait happened. There’s not a lot left. And my own savings were never, shall we say, plentiful.”

  “So how do we get back to the Resistance?”

  “We don’t. We stay here to complete the mission.”

  “Okay, then how do we get our stolen cargo back?”

  She stopped herself from laughing at him. How strange, to spend so much of your life with the First Order that you forgot how the actual galaxy worked.

  “I suspect we’re going to have to get jobs like normal folk. In case you didn’t know, a job is where—”

  Archex rolled his eyes and leaned back on the transport, too. “I was born on Jakku. I’ve been a scavenger. I know what work is. I’m not someone’s pampered pet gone feral. I’m just unsure what good we could do in a place like this. I’m pretty much useless for manual labor.”

  “Sell me, please,” Pook said. “To reasonable people.”

  “If he is for sale, I know someone who’d be interested!”

  This new voice came from the shadows of the forest, and Vi immediately drew her blaster, which was still in her holster and had apparently escaped the notice of the thieves. For all that they’d stolen everything that wasn’t bolted down—and some things that were—they’d left her person untouched.

  “We don’t have much left to steal, but I plan on protecting it,” she said in a low voice to Archex. “You kept up with your target practice?”

  “No,” he whispered back. “There were no weapons on Cerea. And I’m still wearing my anklet, so just know that anything you say to me could get back to your superiors. Our superiors. I don’t think I’m cleared for a blaster yet.”

  Vi reached into one of her cargo pant pockets and put a tiny blaster in his hand. “Consider yourself cleared. It may not look like much, but it kicks.”

  When the figure from the forest appeared, they both had their backs against the transport and their blasters pointed. But it was just a girl—a smiling girl. She put her hands up and didn’t stop smiling.

  “Bright suns, friends!” she called.

  Vi corrected herself. The newcomer wasn’t a girl; she was a woman, one of those fortunate people who looked younger than they were thanks to a guileless and curious expression. She had black hair and warm, red-brown skin complemented by symmetrical blue designs painted on her face; her loose blue tunic draped over green pants and boots that looked like something a soldier might wear. The goggles on her head and the tools hanging from a belt at her waist suggested she had some business besides welcoming strangers in the middle of a forest, but the pretty necklace made of natural materials and stones said she wanted to look good doing it.

  “Bright suns,” Vi answered back, echoing what had to be a local saying. “You wouldn’t happen to know who robbed us, would you?”

  The woman stopped, her smile wry now. “I have a good idea, but I enjoy conversations more when no one is aiming blasters at me.” Hands still up, she slowly spun in a circle, showing that she carried no obvious weapon. “I do not intend you harm.”

  Archex met Vi’s eyes. He raised his eyebrows. She gave the slightest of shrugs and flicked her eyes down to the holster on her hip. She could draw a blaster pretty fast, and she bet he could, too, injuries or no. He gave a tiny nod and slipped his blaster into his waistband, and Vi slid hers home and tried to step confidently away from the transport. Hopefully the newcomer didn’t notice her wincing when she stood on her own.

  “I’m Salju,” the woman said, “And it looks like you’re injured.” So she had noticed the wince—or maybe it was the bruises on Vi’s upper chest or the scrapes on her knuckles. “Do you need help?” Salju put her hands down and cocked a hip but was wise enough to know that she hadn’t been invited to approach.

  Vi sighed heavily and leaned back against the transport again. “I’m Vi, this is Archex. And yeah, we got shot by some smugglers fighting their way out of atmo—”

  “Ugh. Jerdan and Royce.” The girl shook her head in disgust. “I knew that deal was going to go bad. They were arguing while I was filling up Jerdan’s ship—I run the filling station at the port in Black Spire Outpost.”

  “Well, I hope they’re both floating around space in a mingled cloud of atoms.” Vi gestured to the transport and felt something in her neck clench. “So we crashed. And we both blacked out. And when we woke up, we were missing all of our cargo and half our droid.”

  As if that was the invitation she’d been waiting for, Salju walked to where Pook…well, sat wasn’t quite the right word. He looked like he’d been buried in the ground and was waiting for spring rain to bloom. As the girl approached, the droid’s neck swiveled to follow her.

  “You look like you’re having a terrible day,” she said.

  “You have no idea,” Pook replied.

  Salju poked around him, asking questions and nodding sympathetically at the droid’s complaints. When she was done, Pook said, “I like her. But I am running out of charge without my second battery, so I will place myself in stasis while you work out how to regain my backside.” Without another word, he mercifully powered down.

  “I’ve got good news and bad news,” Salju said, approaching Vi and Archex. “The good news is that according to your droid’s descriptions, it wasn’t Savi’s scavengers who stole from you.”

  “How is that good news?” Archex asked, and Vi was glad to see his spirit returning.

  “Savi runs the main scrapyard here, but he’s a fair man, and if his people had done this, things would get uncomfortable. It wasn’t the Mubo your droid mentioned, either; he fixes droids but doesn’t scavenge or steal. The bad news is that it sounds like the thieves were Oga Garra’s minions, which means it’s not going to be easy, getting things back. Oga’s the boss around here, and although she’s fairer than most…well, business comes first for her.”

  Vi rubbed her head and briefly saw stars again. “So let me get this straight: The people who took our entire haul work for the local gangster, which means not only do we have no hope of justice, but we’re probably going to be charged three times as much to buy back our goods once the serial numbers have been filed off?”

  Salju executed a little bow and said, “I’m afraid so, and may the spires watch over you. But don’t lose hope. There’s plenty of work in town. Maybe tomorrow you’ll have a better hand.”

  This was not the first time Vi had lived this moment, where it felt as if all was lost and it would be rather easy to give up, change her name and hair
again, and take on work that didn’t involve quite so much bodily harm. But she couldn’t let the Resistance down. And having been here before and having survived similar catastrophes, she knew that the only way out was through. One foot in front of the other with the same grace the general had shown after the Hosnian Cataclysm. Every step forward was a step back to normal. She could always take one more step.

  “All right then,” she said, her will coalescing. “Archex, you stay here with what’s left of Pook and make sure no one else drags away our transport. Until something better comes up, this is our home. I’ll head into town with Salju, if you’re offering?” The woman nodded. “I’ll find us something to sleep on, get some food, and maybe find a lead on a way to earn some credits.”

  Archex looked down at his leg and shook his head. “So I just sit here and babysit a husk of a ship and half a droid, huh?”

  Vi sighed. “You want me to stay behind and you go in? You ever done recon before? You know what I’ve been told to look for? Have you even seen a town in the last twenty years when you weren’t following orders?”

  His brows drew down. “No.”

  “Exactly. Your job is to support me. So support me.”

  His answering nod was a tight and unwilling gesture, but it was there. He’d been raised as a soldier, after all, and he knew how to follow orders, even if he didn’t like them.

  Vi hobbled toward Salju, who said, “You two have an interesting relationship.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Salju led her into the forest, and Vi was overjoyed to see that the woman had hidden her landspeeder behind some bushes. The vehicle looked like a crusty old rust bucket, but its engine purred, and the seats had woolly seat covers that felt like heaven when Vi leaned back. Salju offered her a canteen, and the water was cold and tasted of minerals.

  “And now,” Salju said, grinning, “let’s get you to Black Spire Outpost.”

  IT WASN’T A LONG JOURNEY, THANKS to the speeder, and Vi made note of the route so that she could get back on her own. Considering that they needed to protect what was left of their transport and conserve credits by living out in the wilds instead of finding a place in town, she assumed she’d be making the trip frequently.