Resistance Reborn (Star Wars) Read online

  “Rey—” she started.

  “I heard you talking to someone,” Rey said hastily. “Did you finally get through to our allies?”

  “Not yet,” Leia confessed. “That call was from a couple of pilots I have scouting, but, and I hope this doesn’t come out wrong, we need more than pilots. We need leadership. Pilots are crucial, but the First Order took Holdo, Ackbar, others.” She sighed, the grief heavy in her bones. Leaders she had called them, yes, but also friends. People she had known most of her life, now gone. “We need strategists, thinkers, those with the means and will to lead us forward. To inspire others to do the same.”

  “I didn’t know them,” Rey admitted. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Leia nodded. “We’ve all experienced loss.”

  Finally Rey met her gaze, a question lurking there. Perhaps she wants to talk about Luke, Leia thought. We spoke of him, but briefly. Just an acknowledgment that he was at peace in the end. But then Rey said…

  “Kylo Ren. He’s your son…”

  Ah. Leia nodded and drank from her now cooling cup. Rey squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

  “What happened to him?” she finally asked. “I mean, how did he turn to the dark side? He started in the light, didn’t he? He told me a story about Luke, about his training.” She exhaled. “I guess I just want to understand.”

  “I do, too.”

  “So you don’t know?”

  “I think you would have to ask Ben what happened to him.”

  “He wanted me to join him, but I couldn’t. I thought I could help him, but he only wanted me to become like him.”

  Rey’s face fell, and Leia could see the pain etched there. The girl cared about Ben, and he had disappointed her. “Ben has made his choices,” Leia said. “No one can save Ben but himself. And I don’t know if that is what he wants.”

  Rey nodded, a sharp dip of her chin. “I know that. I mean, rationally I know, but I guess I held out hope.”

  “Hope is good,” Leia said, her voice gentle with understanding. “Hope is important, and sometimes it is all we have. But,” she said, smiling, “what does hope have to do with being rational?” She held out her hand and Rey leaned forward and took it, pressing her palm to Leia’s and squeezing.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to do this,” Rey whispered quietly.

  “But you will do it,” Leia said, her voice a little louder, filled with a little more steel. “And you won’t be alone. We will be here with you.”

  Rey seemed to steady, and a smile blossomed briefly, her first since she’d arrived.

  A buzzing on the console and Leia answered. “Hello?” she called into the mike. “Identify yourself.”

  “General Organa! It’s Poe!”

  “Poe.” She turned slightly away from Rey. “Where are you? What’s your status?”

  “Ikkrukk. It was close, but Black Squadron pulled through. Zero casualties although Jess and Suralinda were pretty banged up. But I can report that Grail City is secured. We sent the First Order running.”

  Finally a small bit of good news. “Wonderful, Poe. And the prime minister, Grist? Is she well?”

  A moment of static and then Poe was back. “Can confirm that yes, Prime Minister Grist survived. And she’s invited us to a party.”

  Leia exchanged a look with Rey, who gave her a small grin.

  “Poe, can you do something for me?”

  “Anything, General.”

  “Go to Grist’s party and tell me what the attitude is there among the guests about the First Order.”

  “Well, considering the First Order attacked them, I imagine they’re none too happy right now.”

  “Maybe not publicly. You will need to look past their words, Poe. Be alert for the subtler things. Note who still won’t criticize the First Order, or who criticizes too loudly, as if to prove their loyalties. Notice who’s not at the party. Did anyone declare themselves openly with the separatist faction?”

  A moment when Poe was clearly talking to someone else and then, “Cannot confirm. But I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “You do that. And see what Grist is willing to commit to the Resistance. That was the reason Black Squadron was there to begin with. Your timing ended up being fortuitous, so let’s see if that buys us anything.”

  “Okay. Anything else, General?”

  “Yes. Have fun. You survived the battle and you’re all still alive for another day. Make sure to enjoy it.”

  “Flying’s all the joy I need, but I hear you, General. Copy that.”

  “And let me know where Black Squadron will head next. Grail City is a good win, but we have so much farther to go.”

  “Copy that,” he repeated. “Okay, Poe out.”

  The transmission clicked off and Leia leaned back, the worn chair creaking under her weight.

  “Well, that’s good,” Rey said, startling Leia. She’d forgotten the girl was there, she was so quiet.

  “Yes, it is,” Leia agreed. “But it’s barely a drop in the bucket of what we need.”

  “But every drop counts, right? A drop here and there and before you know it, you have an ocean.”

  An ocean. What did a girl who’d grown up on Jakku know about oceans? But Leia said, “I like the way you think, Rey. Yes, you’re right. No need to minimize what Poe and his Black Squadron accomplished. Now, why don’t you get some rest?”

  As if on cue, Rey’s jaw cracked in a yawn. “Yeah, maybe I should. I was working on the compressor. The humidity on Ahch-To caused the condensation to build up in the casing. I need to clean it out, find the leak, and seal…” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sure you don’t care.” She stood.

  “On the contrary, I’m glad you’re taking such good care of Han’s ship.” Leia lifted the cup. “Thank you again for the tea.”

  Rey gave her a quick nod and left.

  Ahch-To. Of course. That was where Rey had found Luke. Maybe the girl did know something about oceans after all. And perhaps there was a lesson in there for Leia, too.

  She shook her head, rueful, and turned back to the communications console. One more attempt, she told herself, and then she’d follow her own advice to Rey and try to get some sleep. Today it was droplets, she thought, and tomorrow it would be a river. And perhaps, eventually, a mighty sea that could stand against the First Order. It seemed improbable, but improbable was all she had.

  She ran through her list of allies again, starting at the beginning.

  SURALINDA JAVOS WAS DRUNK. Or at least Poe was fairly certain that Black Squadron’s Squamatan pilot was drunk. Why else would she be up on that stage doing…well, he wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing. Poe shook his head. He loved Black Squadron. Would die for any one of his pilots. But sometimes he wondered.

  When Prime Minister Grist had invited Black Squadron for a celebratory drink to toast their victory in securing Grail City against the First Order, it had been politic to accept. He knew his job here was part pilot and part diplomat, and anything he could do to secure Ikkrukk’s support of the Resistance was something he had to do.

  “Shouldn’t they be happy enough that we saved their butts from the bad guys?” Jess Pava grumbled when Poe told Black Squadron that they’d be going to a party.

  “Don’t you like a party, Jess?” Suralinda asked, laughing. “I mean, I can’t think of a better reason to have a drink than survival. Besides, I’d love to get a quote or something from the prime minister, something I can use to really make the story sing.”

  “You’re writing a story?” Poe asked, surprised.

  “Of course I’m writing a story,” the pilot-turned-journalist-turned-back-to-pilot said. She shook her head, her brown eyes set in mock disappointment. “When are you going to get the hang of this public relations thing, Poe? My journalistic skills are an asset to the Resistance
, but only if we get our story out there. And what a story it will be with Grist praising our ragtag group of heroes saving her and the planet from the evil First Order!”

  Ragtag? After Crait, that was closer to reality than Poe cared to admit.

  “That’s not a story. That’s just the truth,” Jess said. Poe looked at her sharply, wondering if she knew how bad things were for the Resistance, but his fellow pilot was guileless.

  “Of course it’s the truth,” Suralinda said, sounding annoyed. “I don’t lie, Jess. I just”—Suralinda waved a hand, as if conjuring something out of thin air—“embellish.”

  Jess folded her arms across her chest and let her long black hair fall across her face, unimpressed. Poe had noticed that her and Suralinda’s relationship was often strained, but if he thought about it, it was no more contentious than anyone else’s relationship with Suralinda. She was an old friend of Poe’s from his navy days, but she was hard to pin down even at the best of times. Her loyalties seemed to shift and eventually land right back on Suralinda alone, but he couldn’t deny that she had been there for him and Black Squadron when they most needed her, including right here at Grail City. Jess wouldn’t have gotten the defense system back up without Suralinda’s help, and it was good for everyone to remember that. Even if Suralinda sounded selfish now, Poe knew she would have their backs when push came to shove, and that’s what mattered.

  “So,” Suralinda said, hands on her hips. “Who’s up for a party?”

  “Pass,” Jess said, turning away. “I want to check on my astromech. After what I put the little guy through…”

  Suralinda grunted disapprovingly. “Poe? Surely you’re coming.”

  “I kind of have to. It would be rude not to…”

  “Exactly!” She slid her arm around Poe’s and pulled him along before she looked over her shoulder at the other two members of Black Squadron. “Karé? Snap? Care to join us?”

  Temmin Wexley, whom everyone called Snap, took the hand of his wife, Karé Kun, and motioned Poe and Suralinda forward. “Lead the way. I wouldn’t mind a drink. And I hear Ikkrukk makes a great ale.”

  “It’s fine to have a drink,” Poe said, “but I need everyone to keep your eyes and ears open, too. Anything you find out may prove useful.” He paused, looking over his shoulder. “Beebee-Ate, you coming or staying?”

  The little droid beeped his reply, and Poe nodded. “Keep an eye on the ships for us, then. And help Jess out if she asks.”

  BB-8 whirled, sounding distressed.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Jess protested, clearly offended. Poe kept the grin from his face. He knew the droids called Jess the Great Destroyer because of how many astromechs she sent to the scrapyard, but he trusted her with BB-8. As long as they stayed on the ground.

  “Have fun,” Jess said, sighing, her hands on her hips and her eyes on the astromechs who all were now conferring with BB-8.

  “We will!” Suralinda said, smiling big enough to show her needle-sharp teeth, which were as much a part of her Squamatan heritage as her blue skin and taloned nails. “We’ll have fun and we’ll get some information. Win-win.”

  Jess waved them away over her shoulder, already focused on the droids, and the four of them headed to the palace where Prime Minister Grist of Ikkrukk waited for them.

  * * *

  —

  That had been an hour ago.

  Poe had politely nursed an Ikkrukk ale for that hour. He’d taken a single sip under the prime minister’s watchful eye. The dark bitter brew had sat like engine fuel on his tongue, but he’d managed to swallow it down without a telltale grimace. He’d then proceeded to circulate through the party, engaging in small talk with the guests, looking for the signs Leia had told him would reveal loyalties and uncover motivations. He made mental notes as he moved among the civic leaders and politicians, and what he saw worried him. There was doubt here, fear that perhaps fighting back had only doomed Ikkrukk to a more brutal invasion in the future. That perhaps First Order occupation wouldn’t be so terrible, that cooperation was a more viable strategy than war, and that maybe there was even financial profit in joining the First Order.

  Poe held his tongue through it all, but inside he wanted to scream. Black Squadron had risked their lives to save this city, this planet, and now Grail City was questioning whether it had been the right thing to do. He wanted to shout that they were cowards, all of them, ready to bow down to the First Order to save their own tails and line their already well-lined pockets without a concern for what occupation would do to the average citizen on the street. He wanted to warn them that occupation might seem reasonable now, but if they allowed the First Order to establish itself on the planet, the grip that began as loose would inevitably tighten until Ikkrukk was choking.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he circled back around to the prime minister.

  “Are you enjoying the party?” Prime Minister Grist asked politely, a dour eye on Poe’s almost untouched ale.

  Poe gave up all pretenses of drinking, handing the glass off to a passing server. “I was hoping we could talk about Ikkrukk’s promise to aid the Resistance.”

  “Promise?” Grist said, voice fluttering in distress. “I don’t recall a promise.”

  Poe pressed his lips together. When he had first talked to Grist fresh off Black Squadron bringing down the First Order ship that had threatened to obliterate Grail City, she had indeed made promises about doing whatever she could to aid the Resistance. But now, a few hours later and her city out of immediate danger, it appeared her memory was conveniently failing her.

  “It’s not that we don’t want to help,” Grist said, sounding regretful. “We are grateful, and we wish we could do more to show our appreciation for your cause. But my engineers have reported substantial damage not only to our defense system but also within the city itself. It seems the First Order sympathizers tried to destroy as many cultural centers as they could before they were defeated. It’s imperative we rebuild immediately, so that people understand the First Order cannot beat us. You understand.”

  “I don’t think I do,” Poe said, a touch of anger in his voice. He wondered if he should mention that the routing of First Order sympathizers might need to continue within her own cabinet but decided that wouldn’t win him any points. He was trying to be diplomatic. Well, as close to diplomatic as he could manage. He had never been known for his tact.

  The prime minister’s golden eyes faded around the edges. “Oh dear.”

  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your situation,” Poe said, doing his best to rein in his irritation. “But you have to understand the urgency of our situation.”

  “Of course I understand, and I can promise you that the First Order will find no purchase here.”

  “Are you sure of that?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

  Grist blinked. She took a moment, as if to reset her own temper, before she said, “Yes, I am certain. But we simply cannot actively support the Resistance. We are already a target for First Order occupation. I don’t dare give them more cause to return. However, in appreciation for your efforts on our behalf, I am happy to provide you with fuel and food, enough to see you on your way.” Grist’s well-managed smile was brittle.

  And there it was. The dismissal. Poe knew a lost cause when he saw one, and while he usually took on more than his share of lost causes, Ikkrukk didn’t feel like one he was interested in fighting for. He made noises about being grateful and excused himself from the hopeless conversation, more disturbed than he let show. He couldn’t help but worry. If a planet fresh from a First Order attack was this reluctant to take a chance to aid Leia’s Resistance, what would a planet that hadn’t seen the violence up close think? Maybe Suralinda and her ragtag-hero story did have a point beyond embarrassing them all. He’d have to talk to her about it more, see how maybe they could get the news o
ut on the holofeeds, past the political gatekeepers and into the eyes and hearts of the common people. But first, he had his own news to share with his squad. He’d been putting it off long enough.

  He found Snap and Karé huddled in a corner, their heads so close they almost touched as they talked, Karé’s darkly tanned skin contrasted against Snap’s paler shade, her blond hair against his brown. They might be physical opposites in a lot of ways, but they were one of the most well-suited couples Poe knew. Their relationship always impressed him.

  “Am I interrupting?” he asked.

  “Of course not,” Karé said, easily making space for him. “Join us.”

  Poe sat on the low bench across from the couple, sinking into the deep cushions. He shifted his weight back and forth in an effort to get comfortable but only succeeded in working his way deeper into the doughy seating.

  “They do like a good pillow here,” Snap said, laughing. All the furniture in the prime minister’s cave palace was carved from the same rock as the walls that surrounded them, from the low flat benches to the equally low tables. It seemed to be the fashion here to soften all that hardness with rich fabrics, so the palace was adorned with wide swaths of embroidered shimmersilks and wildly colorful paintings on the rock walls themselves. Cushions in a riot of colors were piled two or more deep on every seat.

  “No kidding,” Poe said. “I feel like I’m sinking.”

  “It’s kind of nice after sitting in a pilot’s seat all the time,” Karé countered. “Nobody designed an X-wing for comfort, that’s for sure.”

  Frustrated, Poe pulled the cushion off the bench and dumped it on the floor at his feet, revealing the hard stone beneath. He sat on the bare rock. “That’s better.”

  Snap and Karé laughed and Poe grinned back. He looked at his friends with a deep fondness. “I’m glad you both are here,” he said, his voice earnest. “I mean it. It was close up there…”

  “It’s always close,” Karé said.

  “How’d the talk with the prime minister go?” Snap asked.