Galaxy's Edge

by Delilah S. Dawson

  Vi stood as she dropped the medal in her basket. She glanced around the junkyard at all of Savi’s workers, cheerfully going about their business. Dotti laughed as she sorted, Roxi settled her hoverchair in a more promising section, people worked cranes and directed droids and cut apart the husks of broken ships.

  “All the people here have this…gleam?”

  Ylena nodded, her eyes twinkling with a sort of pride and a lot of love. “Oh, yes. We’re a family. You never see any of us fighting, stealing, anything like that. Savi doesn’t hire anyone until he’s met them himself and taken their measure.” She leaned closer. “He had an old friend named Lor San Tekka, and Lor once met Luke Skywalker. Savi and Lor grew up together, and they bonded over a belief that the Force needed a little help to stay balanced. Savi came here so that he could continue his work in peace. We may not be able to join the Resistance, but we are with you in spirit.”

  Vi untangled some rotting power cords while she thought about Ylena’s speech—and what Savi had told her, too. She’d gotten a job at the junkyard to make money and buy scrap cheap, and now it was sounding like she’d stumbled onto a…Force cult? She needed to know more, but she also recognized that saying the wrong thing could close Ylena off.

  “So this Lor—he was friends with Luke Skywalker?” she asked, hoping to draw out some more information. “Before Luke left?”

  Ylena looked stricken and had to turn away as she struggled to maintain her composure. “I don’t know if a Jedi Master really has friends. But Lor knew him. He and Savi kept in touch. Lor spent his last days in a spiritual village on Jakku, knowing that he was to serve a greater purpose.”

  “A spiritual village?” Vi pressed.

  Ylena wiped her eyes and turned back to the pile of scrap before her, pulling out an old synthleather jacket and dusting it off, considering whether it might be saved. “Do you ever feel as if you were meant to serve a great purpose, Vi? That you have a role to play somewhere that you can’t yet fathom?”

  Vi tossed the now untangled cords into her basket. “I’m already playing my role. Serving the Resistance is a great purpose.”

  “To be sure.” Ylena nodded in a knowing, motherly way. “But sometimes, it’s like a puzzle. You can see the pieces and guess at what they will reveal, but until all the pieces come together and you step back, you will never truly understand how one small part might fit into the whole. Sometimes, you must sit, and wait, and gather pieces to see the entire picture.”

  Sitting and gathering pieces—that was a sentiment Vi felt deeply, just now.

  They worked in companionable silence for a while, as often happened at the junkyard. What Ylena said made sense, and yet there was something underneath her words, something she was hinting at that Vi didn’t yet understand. But Vi knew enough about interrogation to recognize that Ylena was being purposeful with her clues and that asking too much or too aggressively would only drive the woman to silence. For now, Vi was willing to be content with the knowledge that no one here had turned her in, and that in their own way they supported the Resistance, or at least that they fought against evil. For some reason she couldn’t quite put a finger on, she was certain it was true.

  She looked around at each of the Gatherers but saw no gleam about them. They just seemed like normal people doing a normal job and trying to make the best of it. They were happy, healthy enough, and in good spirits, and that was better than many people throughout the galaxy. Whoever Savi really was and whatever he truly believed, he definitely knew how to manage his workers.

  After lunch, Vi and Ylena were sorting through the guts of a rusty transport, and Vi was disappointed to see that its comm array was completely busted. She’d been hoping to find something salvageable that she could buy off Savi for the price of scrap, but by the time most ships made it to this part of Savi’s scrapyard, they’d already been torn apart and had various creatures nesting in their controls.

  “You look sad,” Ylena observed.

  Vi decided to repay Ylena’s earlier honesty with a truth of her own instead of hiding her feelings as a spy truly should. “Oga returned most of my cargo but not my comm array.” She ran a finger over the ancient buttons. “So I can’t contact my general. She doesn’t know about our setbacks or that the First Order has found us. But if I go into town and pay to use someone else’s equipment, they’ll know the codes that can be used to find the Resistance, and that kind of information is clearly dangerous here when I don’t know who my enemies are, or at least who would sell me and my cause down the river.”

  Ylena thought about it for a moment and said, “There are many people in town who can be trusted. Not like the Gatherers here in the scrapyard, but good people.”

  “More troublesome is that even if someone didn’t betray us, the First Order could take control of their equipment and punish them for helping me. I need my own gear back, or a way to buy something similar we can keep out at the base.”

  Ylena sorted junk for several moments before responding. Vi liked that about her—she didn’t just say whatever came into her head but took it seriously and endeavored to give the best answer she could. It was an unusual trait and took some getting used to.

  “I can speak with Savi, and we can be on the lookout for something suitable. That sort of thing is hard to come by here, and most of our scrap buys have already had any valuable tech torn out, as you can see. Oga controls all the bigger purchases, and anything her crew salvages comes to us at her discretion.” She waved her hands at the scrapyard. “Let’s just say we’re never going to find a new, usable comm array here. Have you been into town to see what’s on offer and how much it will cost?”

  “I tried Smuggler’s Alley once and was disappointed, and I haven’t looked again. I’ve been pretty busy. We still need to tune up the personal short-range comms we found in the…” Vi trailed off. She wasn’t sure she wanted Ylena to know she’d looted all the bodies of Oga’s minions she’d found in the caves. “Returned cargo.”

  Vi opened an old canteen that had an odd rattle and poured two small crystals out into her palm. They landed, cold, against her skin.

  Ylena gasped. “May I?” she asked, holding out her hands with an odd reverence.

  Vi dumped the crystals into Ylena’s palm, and the older woman held them up to the light, studying each one in turn. “Do you know what these are?”

  “No. Never was much into jewelry.”

  Ylena chuckled. “Oh, these aren’t jewelry. They’re kyber crystals.”

  “Now, why does that sound familiar?”

  Standing, Ylena cracked her back and motioned for Vi to join her. Vi stood, cracking her back as well, and followed Ylena toward the hut. Oddly, Ylena didn’t pull her basket along or encourage Vi to bring hers. Ylena had eyes only for the crystals, which were clear and faceted. They were pretty, to be sure, but didn’t seem special in any way. Vi had been in caves filled with crystals, and these specimens were each smaller than her finger.

  “Kyber crystals are sacred to the Jedi,” Ylena explained. “They have a way of focusing the Force. They’re used to power lightsabers.”

  Vi chewed on the inside of her cheek a moment. “You keep using the present tense, but I thought that except for Rey, the Jedi have disappeared?”

  “Perhaps,” Ylena said with a half smile. “Then they’re what once powered lightsabers. These crystals are very rare. They grow in only a few places around the galaxy.” She stopped and glanced back toward the spot where they’d left their baskets. “And you found them in that old canteen. How strange! I wonder how they got there.”

  Vi could only shrug. They were crystals. Without Jedi or lightsabers, they likely had no value, except perhaps to a collector like Dok-Ondar or for some everyday industrial use. But something told her that whatever Savi wanted with such objects, he wouldn’t put them into the hands of someone who would use them for the wrong reas
on.

  “Another rare find. Like I said: The Force has taken a shine to you,” Ylena said with a smile.

  That kind of sentiment made Vi feel squirmy, like a little kid caught in a lie. “I’m not Force-sensitive. I’m a nobody from Chaaktil. I’ve been near General Organa, and you can definitely feel the power radiating from her. But I’m not like that.”

  Ylena stopped, both of the crystals cupped in one hand. She placed the other hand on Vi’s shoulder and beamed at her. “The Force is all around us,” she said. “You don’t have to be sensitive to it to attract it, to be part of it. We’re all part of it. Some people are just…well, think of it like a butterfly landing on you. That doesn’t mean you’re a flower. It just means that you smell sweet. It’s a good thing.” She squeezed Vi’s shoulder and walked on, and Vi followed, feeling amused and almost pleased. Ylena sounded a little crazy, but it was a comforting thought. After spending all her time with Archex and Pook, it was nice to be liked.

  “So what will you do with the crystals?” she asked, changing the subject to something more concrete.

  “That’s for Savi to decide.” Ylena unlocked the hut door, went inside, came back out, and locked the door behind herself. “He’ll know what to do. He always does.” Her eyes went bright. “And he’ll probably give you a bonus for bringing him something so valuable. It’s a good find. Perhaps that will help you buy the equipment you need.”

  That lifted Vi’s heart. “Hopefully.”

  Vi didn’t find any more crystals or valuable artifacts that day, but it stuck with her, what Ylena had said about the Force favoring people. She’d often had an intense gut feeling about people, like the one she’d had about Archex, even as he’d done his best to torture information out of her. Under the hard, First Order shell, he’d been a good egg. She felt the same way about Ylena and Savi. She’d seen it in Finn and Rose and Poe. Even with Dolin, she’d known almost immediately that he was truly a good person. Now, if she could just find some more Batuu locals with that kind of hero’s heart who were willing to join her cause.

  After work, she walked into town with Ylena, who lived in a warren of apartments Savi owned around his storefront and workshop. Dotti and Roxi lived there, too, sharing a ground-level apartment with an extra-wide door for Roxi’s hoverchair. Vi could almost imagine herself living here in another life. The Trilon wishing tree made the area pretty and bright, and the building was well kept, with gardens outside.

  Vi didn’t have long to do her errands before the bulk of the shops closed for the evening, and she had to get food for Archex and Dolin, too. That was part of running a command center: feeding the troops. And as she already knew, they could hold a lot of food. Sure, her returned cargo held nonperishable foodstuffs, but that would be saved for a time of greater need. As new people joined their cause, she would need to either hire a cook or come up with an agreement like Savi had for his workers’ daily flatbreads, at least until they could get a garden growing and start keepings beasts. Lucky that she had a farm boy on hand to help with that. It was pleasant, dreaming of a busy encampment, of the day when she could focus on that part of her job instead of worrying about the First Order troops who’d be looking to destroy everything she’d fought for.

  Ylena and the other scrappers retired to their apartments, waving their goodbyes, and Vi considered where to look for comm equipment. It would be expensive, and she didn’t want to get ripped off. Not sure where to start, she stopped in at Mubo’s Droid Depot.

  “Not having trouble with that PK-Ultra, I hope?” the Utai called, clambering down from a high shelf as soon as he saw her. “He looks like the sort who would pull out a wire to get some sympathy on a slow day.”

  Vi had to laugh at that. “He probably would. A few too many programs running for one hard drive. But no, I’m here for something else. Where do you think I could get a fair deal on some long-range comm equipment?”

  Mubo stroked his missing chin. “Gol might have some,” he said. “He usually sets up shop outside the market and Merchant Row, just a makeshift stall on the outskirts. It’ll be pricey, though. Of course, it’s all pricey here because we’re so far off from the rest of the galaxy. But I’d trust him more than that pawnshop in Smuggler’s Alley. I take it you’re settling in, then?”

  Vi nodded. “Trying to.”

  “Say, have you heard that the First Order arrived? Angry guy in black and a bunch of soldiers, look just like the Empire’s old stormtroopers. I saw some once, on Tatooine. Dangerous folk. One tried to kick me!”

  Ah, yes. Mubo didn’t know who Vi really was, did he?

  And—drat. She’d walked into town without her Ubese helmet. Most specifically, she’d left for work without it and then just continued on in kind. There were so many concerns in her head that her mind felt like a sieve, and she’d definitely let something big slip past. Living her life as Vi Moradi and living life as a wanted spy had never overlapped like this before. She’d accidentally and foolishly fallen into the trap of believing she was just a normal person, living a normal life. She glanced around Mubo’s shop and pointed at a big pair of welder’s goggles.

  “How much for those goggles?”

  Mubo picked them up and inspected them. “Not much? Cracked, and I don’t even know where they came from.”

  Vi handed him a few spira and pulled her shawl up over her head, wrapping it so that only her eyes were exposed and putting on the goggles over it. She’d seen plenty of locals dressed this way, especially when the suns were proving especially hot. Mubo waved her away, shouting, “Till the spires!” as if it was perfectly normal for someone to come into his shop and leave hiding under a shawl and greasy old goggles. Then again, being such an eccentric person himself, perhaps he didn’t hold it against other people when they acted strangely.

  Vi followed the droid tech’s directions to the outskirts of the market, where a disorganized jumble of wares was strewn out on tarps and woven blankets and old tables and displayed from carts and wheelbarrows. She briefly longed for the neat rows and boxes of Coruscant’s shops, but then she dashed that thought aside. She’d left such places behind on purpose. She wanted to feel like she was a part of a greater cause, and she wanted adventure, and if she had to dig a little more deeply to find what she needed among the scrap, so be it. As she waded through twisted cables and moved monitors and keyboards aside, a small and squeaky voice asked, “Bright suns! Might I help you?”

  When Vi looked down, she found a Chadra-Fan standing there, hands clasped earnestly and black eyes bright and shiny. She—at least Vi thought the batlike alien was a she, based on her belted purple tunic and pretty bead necklace—was short like all of her species and covered in soft gray fur with big ears and four nostrils. She seemed very eager to help—but also nervous or possibly frightened. Her big ears twitched backward, and Vi looked over the Chadra-Fan’s head and noticed a youngish man behind a table, arms crossed, watching their interaction closely. She immediately disliked him.

  “Thank you,” Vi told the Chadra-Fan with a warm smile. “I’m interested in buying some long-range comm equipment.”

  The Chadra-Fan nodded vigorously. “We do have a few things. Not much—we’re quite far out from the main markets, but I’ve been fixing up a relatively new unit with only a few little dings and glitches—”

  “Blast it, Kriki!” the man said, storming around his table to stand far too close to Vi as he pushed the diminutive Chadra-Fan aside. “There’s nothing wrong with that unit, m’lady! Fully functional and the best on the planet.” His eyes flicked to the Chadra-Fan, who flattened her ears. “Only the ancients know why I even hired her. Taking a job from a proper human and not even doing it well.”

  His voice was loud and booming, and the Chadra-Fan—Kriki—flinched and tried to make herself as small as possible. It had to hurt her sensitive ears—it was definitely hurting Vi’s ears.

  “Sorry, Master G
ol!” Kriki whimpered. “I didn’t mean to—that is, I was only trying to be honest—she’d see the dings herself soon enough—”

  The man’s hands went into fists, and Vi drew herself up tall and stepped between Gol and his worker.

  “I know you weren’t thinking about hitting her,” Vi said.

  “If I did, I would be well within my rights,” he shot back. “Look, I can see that you’re new around here, so maybe you haven’t learned to keep your nose out of other people’s business yet, but—”

  “Oh, and you’re going to tell me where to put my nose? That should be fun,” she said, fighting her instinct to pull back her wrap and show him her blaster.

  “Reprimanding a paid employee is my business,” he shot back.

  “But when a paid employee visibly recoils from you, it suggests that you’re a very bad businessman,” Vi finished for him.

  The man’s jaw worked, and he finally grunted and made a shooing gesture. “Get out. You can’t have the comm at any price. This is my shop, and I’ll not be lectured by my customers, much less offworlders who don’t understand how things are done here.”

  Vi looked longingly at exactly the equipment she needed but wouldn’t debase herself or her morals by kowtowing to this brute. “Good trade,” she said sourly, meaning exactly the opposite.

  As she turned and walked back the way she’d come, she heard a squeak of terror and the slap of flesh on fur. “How dare you, you filthy little mongrel?” Gol shouted.

  Vi stopped. She turned around slowly. As she saw Kriki cowering and Gol looming over her, his hand drawn back for another slap, she knew she couldn’t just walk away. This was why the Resistance was so important to her, on a personal level: She couldn’t stand a bully.

  She drew her tactical baton. “If you want to hit her again, you’ll have to go through me,” she said, low and deadly.