The Rise of Skywalker

by Rae Carson

  “He can’t beat us every time,” Finn said.

  “And yet, he seems to,” Poe grumbled.

  Finn’s eyes narrowed. “How does he do it?”

  “He does it because he cheats,” Poe said.

  Chewie roared.

  “I’m kidding!” Poe said, hands up in surrender. “You’re two hundred fifty years old. Of course you’re better than us.”

  “Just make a move already,” Finn said.

  The Falcon beeped, indicating that they were nearing their destination.

  Chewbacca rose from the holochess table, moaning with insistence.

  “Of course we’re not going to turn it off,” Poe said, trying to appear affronted.

  “Don’t worry,” Finn assured the Wookiee.

  Chewie left and headed toward the cockpit.

  Once he was out of earshot, Poe murmured, “He’s cheating.”

  “Definitely,” Finn agreed.

  They both reached at the same time and turned the board off.

  Poe followed Chewie, passing R2-D2 and Klaud on his way to the cockpit. “Klaud, I hope you got that surged fixed,” Poe hollered.

  They were trying to fix a pesky short that had been working its way through the Falcon’s electronics ever since their last mission. Poe had no idea what species Klaud was or where he came from, and he’d thought General Leia was losing her mind when she’d assigned him to Rose’s mechanic team. For one, he had no arms; in fact, Poe thought he looked like a giant slug on flippers. For two, he spoke a language only the droids understood. But it turned out to be a good decision because Klaud could occasionally manipulate objects with his prehensile antennae, and his keen mind made short work of mechanical problems. He and R2-D2 worked well together.

  Poe reached the cockpit as the Millennium Falcon came out of lightspeed in front of a massive, mountainous asteroid made of ice. With a nod to Chewie, he dropped into the pilot’s chair. From the viewport window, he could see its comet origins in its uneven surface, the way gas lifted off it like fog. It seemed small, its chasms merely cracks on a glowing white space lump. Just as he hoped, the Falcon detected no sign of pursuit. Poe aimed the freighter toward the rendezvous point and plunged toward the mining colony.

  * * *

  —

  Finn passed the entrance to the cockpit and headed toward the top hatch to get ready for their pick-up.

  Based on the sparks flying out of the panel that Klaud was repairing, they’d been lucky on their last assignment. If the Falcon had suffered one more hit, they would have been a pile of flaming debris.

  Well, maybe it wasn’t really luck. He and Poe and Chewie made a good team. A great team, on those rare occasions when Rey accompanied them. But Rey had more important things to worry about now. “Force” things that Finn was doing his best to understand. He’d seen what Rey could do, sensed how important she was to their cause. But he had to admit, when he was out here, and she was back on Ajan Kloss, he missed her.

  Poe had taken the Falcon into the Sinta ice tunnels, where water vapor and mining processes created a bit of atmosphere. The ship felt wobbly beneath Finn’s feet, as though it was fishtailing. Not Poe’s fault, he was certain. These asteroids were tricky.

  The Falcon lurched to a stop.

  “I’m opening the portal!” Finn called out to Poe.

  Finn hit the release, and the round hatch above him revealed a dim icy corridor, a wash of cold, moist air, and the greenish-yellow face of an Ovissian with a wide, horn-to-horn grin.

  “Boolio!” Finn said. Boolio was a mine overseer who’d been siphoning surplus minerals to Resistance-friendly transports for months. Finn himself had picked up shipments twice. “What’s so important? You got the regulator?”

  Leia needed the regulator desperately to get the Tantive IV in top flying shape once again, but these old-model parts were hard to come by, and this was one of the few they’d been able to track down. It was also the cheapest.

  Boolio shook his head. “No part.” he said. “We have a new ally. A spy in the First Order!”

  Finn’s mouth dropped open. “Who?”

  “No idea, but the news is bad. Transfer the spy’s message to your droid!” Boolio said, the regulator already forgotten.

  Boolio tossed down a data cable.

  Finn grabbed it. “Any idea at all who—”

  “They wouldn’t say. But someone left a datafile in my office after the last First Order inspection.” He looked back over his shoulder nervously.

  Finn gestured at R2-D2, who rolled toward him. He inserted the cable into the droid’s dataport. All the while, his mind was racing.

  This was why Boolio had insisted they come all the way across the galaxy for the regulator. This was why he’d told them the part was critical, that it wouldn’t last long. It was a rare piece, sure, practically an antique. But Boolio’s urgency had seemed excessive, especially in relation to the rock-bottom price he was offering. Now it all made sense. Somehow he’d gotten a message from a First Order spy. And as a mere mine overseer, he didn’t have access to a secure frequency. His only choice was to draw them here in person by promising a part that didn’t really exist.

  “Please hurry,” Boolio said. “If they knew to leave the message with me, then someone in the First Order knows I’ve been in contact with the Resistance.”

  Which meant the First Order could return at any moment. Finn found himself tapping the side of his thigh, as if to hurry the transfer along. Old tech, low temps…who knew what kind of shape that data cable was in? They could be here for hours…

  * * *

  —

  Poe slouched in the pilot’s seat. He didn’t understand what was taking Finn so long. They had to retrieve a part, pay Boolio, get the hell out of here. That was it.

  The Falcon’s sensor beeped aggressively, startling Poe from his slouch. He gaped at the console. Was he reading this right? Twenty-something objects approaching from all directions. TIEs, based on the size and speed.

  “Finn, we’re about to be cooked!” He started flicking switches, getting the Falcon ready for a hot exit.

  “We’re almost there!” Finn called back.

  Get there faster, Poe thought as he looked for ways out of this trap. Options were limited and growing fewer by the second.

  Exactly how hard was it to grab a single replacement part?

  * * *

  —

  R2-D2 beeped that the transfer was complete. Finn yanked the cable from the droid’s dataport.

  Boolio pulled it up fast, hand over hand, saying, “They found me. Go, now!”

  “How can we repay you?” Finn asked. They’d brought untraceable currency, on Leia’s insistence. The Resistance had a reputation for paying fair, and she would never jeopardize it. But it wouldn’t be nearly enough to trade for First Order intel.

  “Win the war!” Boolio said, and then he slammed the hatch shut—

  —just as Finn heard the familiar scream of approaching TIE fighters.

  He dashed past R2-D2 and Klaud and burst into the cockpit. “I’ve got bad news!” he told Poe.

  “I’ve got worse,” Poe said. “Get to the turret!”

  Finn scrambled for the guns.

  * * *

  —

  Poe maneuvered the Falcon through the vast chasms of Sinta Glacier Colony. Blue-black ice streamed past in a blur, interrupted occasionally by massive machinery. The chasms were testing his skills to their limits, but they also provided an opportunity. The TIEs chasing them were keeping up so far, but he was the better pilot. He and Chewie just had to hang on long enough for the TIEs to make a mistake and hit a wall, or better yet, for Finn to pick them off with the turret.

  If only Rey had come along. Then they’d have two operational turrets, and those TIEs wouldn’t stand a chance.

&nbs
p; A blast tore at the Falcon, nearly throwing him from his seat. Chewbacca moaned.

  “Finn!” Poe yelled. “You’re supposed to be getting rid of those TIEs!”

  A TIE jerked out of its flight path and spun into the wall of ice, where it became an exploding fireball. Chewie roared.

  “I got one,” Finn retorted.

  “What do you mean both rear shields?” Poe said.

  An alarm in the cockpit began screaming. Poe reached to flick it off. Chewie growled something at him.

  “What?” Poe said.

  Chewie pointed ahead and slightly to the side, where an enormous mining structure jutted from the ice wall. They were seconds away. This was the opportunity Poe had been hoping for.

  “Chewie, good thinking.” Poe said, diverting all remaning shield power to the top, because for this to work, they’d have to cut it very close. “Finn, we can boulder these TIEs!” he hollered toward the turret station.

  “I was just thinking that,” Finn hollered back.

  This kind of maneuver was tough to pull off in the light grav of a small celestial body, but he was Poe Dameron, renowned Resistance pilot. He flipped the Falcon neatly, lining up the shot. Finn spun the lower turret to shoot straight ahead. Not quite yet, buddy…you have to time it just right…

  “Now!” Poe yelled.

  Finn fired. Metal groaned against metal as the machinery broke away from the wall. The Falcon roared under it just as it tumbled, crashing into the three TIEs. Explosions lit up the chasm on all sides, turning the ice walls to fire.

  Finn whooped. “Now get us back to base!”

  But their celebration was short-lived. More TIEs appeared in the cockpit viewport. Too many. Ahead was a sheer wall of ice, dirty with machinery and slag. There was nowhere to go. No way to…

  Poe got a terrible idea.

  “How thick do you think that ice wall is?” Poe said.

  Chewie roared, leaving no doubt what he thought of Poe’s plan.

  * * *

  —

  Finn braced himself as best he could in the turret seat as Poe engaged the throttle. The TIEs were nearly on them. The ice wall loomed straight ahead; where did Poe think they could go? They were definitely going to die.

  The Falcon’s engines roared, and Finn squeezed his eyes shut. His last thought before they hit the wall of ice was that at least he wouldn’t die a stormtrooper.

  The impact wrenched his neck. Metal screeched, Klaud screeched, and the freighter shook like a leaf in a hurricane. Suddenly they burst into open space. Finn didn’t even have time to take a breath of relief before Poe engaged the hyperdrive. Sinta Glacier Colony disappeared into a stream of light.

  The TIEs would follow; they had the technological capability now. There was no getting away.

  Chewie roared so fast it was hard for Finn to understand.

  “Poe’s about to what?” Finn yelled toward the cockpit.

  Chewie moaned that the pilot was about to do nothing good.

  “Don’t worry, buddy,” Poe said, and Finn wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or the Wookiee. “We have the fuel for it. Besides, Rose installed gravimetric compensators to make these quick jumps safe.”

  “Safer,” Finn clarified. “The compensators make jumping slightly safer.”

  “That’s what I said. Hold on!”

  The Falcon jumped to lightspeed. Finn climbed out of the turret and entered the cockpit.

  Moments later, the ship popped out of lightspeed into a massive cavern-like structure dripping with sparkling, ship-killing stalagmites. A bright star reflected daggers of light from the crystal columns into Finn’s eyes, but Poe maneuvered through them neatly. The TIEs that popped into view around them weren’t so lucky. Several exploded before Poe jumped right back to lightspeed.

  Finn felt a little sick to his stomach.

  The Falcon entered a bright space filled with shining white towers—the readout screen identified the Mirror Spires of Ivexia—and their reflective surfaces made it hard for Finn to tell which ones were real or how many TIEs were still in pursuit. Poe barely avoided collision as more TIEs crashed around them.

  Another jump, this time landing them in the middle of the Typhonic Nebula.

  The giant, tooth-rimmed maw of a massive space creature loomed before them. “How do you know how to do this?” Finn asked.

  Chewie roared disapproval.

  “Yeah, well Rey’s not here, is she?” Poe shot back. “Okay, last jump, maybe forever!”

  Klaud screamed. The Falcon lurched into hyperspace, as the last of the TIEs rammed itself down the creature’s gullet.

  Finn was definitely going to be sick.

  * * *

  —

  “I have your word?” Kylo Ren said to Albrekh.

  “It will be stronger than it was before,” he hissed back.

  Albrekh was the first Symeong whom Kylo had ever encountered. He was small and thin, with a jutting jaw and long, pointed, wide-spaced ears that twitched with every sound or breath of air. Most important, he was a Sith alchemist trained in classic metallurgy, capable of smithing feats unheard of in the modern galaxy. He stood before a heavy stone table, awaiting the shards Ren had promised.

  Kylo considered a moment more. He’d been working alone, pursuing the wayfinder without the Knights, without the mask. But he needed them now to help him find the scavenger quickly.

  The Knights were arrayed behind him; he sensed Trudgen and Kuruk close at his shoulders. Calling them together again had been unexpectedly and perhaps uncannily easy. They’d accepted him without question, saying the results of his trial years ago still stood. He remained their rightful leader.

  Now to reforge the symbol of his leadership.

  Then to find Rey.

  He dumped the shards—all painstakingly scavenged from the wreckage of the Supremacy—onto the stone table. He wasn’t sure how the alchemist would pull it off. There were too many pieces, some of them warped beyond recognition.

  Albrekh rubbed his gloved hands together in anticipation and got to work. It would take a long time. That was fine. Kylo wasn’t known for his patience, but even he found some things worth waiting for.

  The alchemist spread all the pieces across the table. With uncanny perception and speed, he solved the puzzle of their fitting, placing them in proximity to one another in such a way that Kylo could begin to see how the pieces would again become a mask.

  The alchemist used heat pliers and a special mallet to hammer the warped fragments back into shape. The whole room glowed red from the molten metal stewing in a cauldron off to the side. Sarrassian iron, Albrekh had told him. The toughest ore in the galaxy.

  With steady hands, the alchemist placed adjoining pieces side by side, then propped them together with magnetic forceps. He grabbed a long application tool that looked like a metal snake and used it to pour bloody iron into the crack between pieces. It cooled instantly, forming a red adhesive stronger than steel.

  Kylo Ren was fascinated by power. Extreme competence was a type of power, and he watched spellbound as Albrekh repeated the process of fitting the shards together, molding them with molten red ore, over and over with severe patience, focus, and precision. Kylo flexed his own hands, wondering how the alchemist’s palms weren’t cramping, how his flesh wasn’t burning to ash. His gloves protected him, no doubt, their fabric yet another Sith secret lost to the rest of the galaxy.

  Finally, the alchemist balanced the mask on a stand and reached for a large ladle. He poured water over the reforged helmet. The water hissed, turning to steam that fogged Kylo’s view. Albrekh repeated the process, again and again, until the mask was fully cooled.

  The alchemist removed his gloves. With his bare, hairy hands, he grabbed the mask and offered it up to Kylo Ren. “It’s safe to wear,” he said.

  He t
ook it, admired it. The mask was a thing of jagged beauty. Shaped just as before, but now full of red fractures like crimson lightning.

  Broken and re-formed. Like the Knights. Like his grandfather.

  The Knights of Ren raised their weapons in honor as Kylo placed the mask over his head. It was heavier than ever. It reeked of molten metal. It was perfect.

  * * *

  —

  Kylo Ren and his Knights charged down a corridor of the Steadfast, a phalanx of sweeping black robes and black masks. Stormtroopers and officers flinched away as they passed. He barely paid them any mind. He’d gotten word that a spy had been captured. He knew exactly how to deal with spies.

  They came to a halt before Admiral Griss, a dark-skinned man who always kept his uniform in perfect condition. His eyes flicked to the mud Kylo and his Knights were tracking through the ship, but he wisely said nothing.

  Behind Admiral Griss, stormtroopers approached, dragging something between them: an alien with yellow-green skin and four horns—two large horns wide against his skull, and two smaller ones hooking under his mandible. He wore an orange mining thermal suit and a defiant expression.

  “Supreme Leader,” Admiral Griss acknowledged. “Captured at the glacier colony, sir. A traitor.”

  Kylo did not hesitate. He ignited his lightsaber and brought it down in a single fluid motion. The traitor’s head fell. One of its horns smacked the corridor floor with a resounding thunk.

  * * *

  —

  All his officers were already seated around the table of the High Command conference room—Quinn, Pryde, Hux, Parnadee, Engell, and a handful of others—when Supreme Leader Kylo Ren strode inside.

  He slammed the traitor’s head down onto the table. They all flinched, he noted with satisfaction, even Pryde. Kylo turned his back to them and walked toward the viewport. “He should find it more difficult now,” he said, gazing out at the stars, “to deliver messages to the Resistance.”