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Before The Awakening: The Yissira Zyde
Jan. 2nd, 2018 11:22 pmHe doesn't take his flight suit off, after the ambush, or even stop to talk to his assigned mechanic, but goes straight for Major Deso's office door; even ignores BB-8 trailing behind him, beeping at him with increasing concern.
He's followed orders. He's done exactly what he's been told, even though it ran against his own better judgment.
And now he's led his own team straight into a First Order ambush, in line with those orders, and he's lost a pilot. A friend.
Because he followed orders, Muran is dead.
When he barges through the office door, Lonno Deso is speaking with a subordinate officer whom Poe vaguely recognises from the canteen; the Major looks about to bawl him straight back out of the building, but something in Poe's face seems to make him think twice.
"Out," Deso orders the startled woman, voice iron and quiet; she looks from his face to Poe's and - having clearly decided that this is a fight she'd rather not be in the middle of - hastily scuttles for the door.
"I'm sorry about Muran." The holovid screen Deso is holding shows a flash of red amongst the blue: one craft down. "What happened?"
The question is so bland and neutral - so innocent - that he almost hits the man, but he takes a deep breath, and another, until he manages to keep his fingers from curling into a fist.
"Those 'pirates' the Yissira Zyde was being attacked by? They were in TIE fighters.
"First Order TIE fighters. To be exact. Sir."
Poe crosses his arms, staring at his commanding officer with undisguised scorn.
"We've been saying for months that they're getting stronger, and now they're attacking our fleet? While we do nothing?"
He doesn't realise that he's shouting until he sees Deso wince.
"It was a trap, sir. We flew into a damn trap, and we couldn't even consider the possibility because our orders say the First Order is a joke!"
And now people are dead - not just Muran, but most likely all those on the commandeered Zyde, and being the best pilot in the New Republic isn't enough.
Being the best pilot in the whole damn galaxy isn't enough. Not with these orders, and not if he's fool enough to follow them.
"It's a flash point, Dameron," Deso says, soothingly. "They're just another bunch of dissidents. Five years' time, it'll be the New Order or the Children of Vader or something else. We've dealt with them before, we'll be dealing with them for years to come. But they're not serious."
"Not serious? Are you kidding me? People are dead! And they're going to keep dying!"
"I'm afraid so." Deso shakes his head with what might even be genuine sadness; Poe's too angry to judge. "Unfortunately, we don't live in a nice galaxy. That's why we have a fleet - to make it safer."
"So what exactly are we doing to make it safer?" Poe forces his fingers to bite into his arms, rather than ball a fist. "Sir. We need to be talking to the Resistance, or at least investigating these attacks properly - not patrolling shipping lanes!"
"We need to be following orders, Dameron. Republic Command has a lot more information than you have, and they say we do not engage first with these people!"
Maybe he should have just punched Deso; at least that might have some kind of impact on the man. "It's going to happen again, you realize that, don't you?"
"If it does, it'll be dealt with then."
"So we do nothing? That's the solution? An emerging threat, and we do nothing?"
"And we contain it, Commander Dameron. Just as we have been doing since the Empire fell."
He's angry enough to take a step towards the man, but BB-8 gets between them, beeping insistently, and it's enough to at least remind him that he can't do anything about the First Order if he's court-martialled.
"I'm going to find the Zyde," he snaps. "One way or another. And then we can get ready to do this all over again, the next time the First Order has us all waltzing merrily into another of their damn murder traps."
There's no response from Major Deso, but Poe does at least have the satisfaction of hearing some of the man's precious pottery collection fall off the damn wall behind him as he slams the office door.
He makes it all the way down the corridor, BB-8 chirping more and more frantically in his wake, and back to his quarters before he lets the mask of fury drop.
He couldn't save Muran. He probably can't save the Zyde. But he'll write it all up, like a good boy, and they'll probably even give him a commendation for taking out five TIE fighters. And more people will die, and none of it'll mean a damn thing.
BB-8 chirrups sadly, nudging at his leg; he rubs his face with the back of his hand before he kneels down beside him. In the shadows of the room - he hadn't bothered to turn on the lights - the faint light of the droid's eye unit glows gently.
"Yeah, buddy, I know," he says, leaning his forehead against BB-8's cool dome. "I know."
He's followed orders. He's done exactly what he's been told, even though it ran against his own better judgment.
And now he's led his own team straight into a First Order ambush, in line with those orders, and he's lost a pilot. A friend.
Because he followed orders, Muran is dead.
When he barges through the office door, Lonno Deso is speaking with a subordinate officer whom Poe vaguely recognises from the canteen; the Major looks about to bawl him straight back out of the building, but something in Poe's face seems to make him think twice.
"Out," Deso orders the startled woman, voice iron and quiet; she looks from his face to Poe's and - having clearly decided that this is a fight she'd rather not be in the middle of - hastily scuttles for the door.
"I'm sorry about Muran." The holovid screen Deso is holding shows a flash of red amongst the blue: one craft down. "What happened?"
The question is so bland and neutral - so innocent - that he almost hits the man, but he takes a deep breath, and another, until he manages to keep his fingers from curling into a fist.
"Those 'pirates' the Yissira Zyde was being attacked by? They were in TIE fighters.
"First Order TIE fighters. To be exact. Sir."
Poe crosses his arms, staring at his commanding officer with undisguised scorn.
"We've been saying for months that they're getting stronger, and now they're attacking our fleet? While we do nothing?"
He doesn't realise that he's shouting until he sees Deso wince.
"It was a trap, sir. We flew into a damn trap, and we couldn't even consider the possibility because our orders say the First Order is a joke!"
And now people are dead - not just Muran, but most likely all those on the commandeered Zyde, and being the best pilot in the New Republic isn't enough.
Being the best pilot in the whole damn galaxy isn't enough. Not with these orders, and not if he's fool enough to follow them.
"It's a flash point, Dameron," Deso says, soothingly. "They're just another bunch of dissidents. Five years' time, it'll be the New Order or the Children of Vader or something else. We've dealt with them before, we'll be dealing with them for years to come. But they're not serious."
"Not serious? Are you kidding me? People are dead! And they're going to keep dying!"
"I'm afraid so." Deso shakes his head with what might even be genuine sadness; Poe's too angry to judge. "Unfortunately, we don't live in a nice galaxy. That's why we have a fleet - to make it safer."
"So what exactly are we doing to make it safer?" Poe forces his fingers to bite into his arms, rather than ball a fist. "Sir. We need to be talking to the Resistance, or at least investigating these attacks properly - not patrolling shipping lanes!"
"We need to be following orders, Dameron. Republic Command has a lot more information than you have, and they say we do not engage first with these people!"
Maybe he should have just punched Deso; at least that might have some kind of impact on the man. "It's going to happen again, you realize that, don't you?"
"If it does, it'll be dealt with then."
"So we do nothing? That's the solution? An emerging threat, and we do nothing?"
"And we contain it, Commander Dameron. Just as we have been doing since the Empire fell."
He's angry enough to take a step towards the man, but BB-8 gets between them, beeping insistently, and it's enough to at least remind him that he can't do anything about the First Order if he's court-martialled.
"I'm going to find the Zyde," he snaps. "One way or another. And then we can get ready to do this all over again, the next time the First Order has us all waltzing merrily into another of their damn murder traps."
There's no response from Major Deso, but Poe does at least have the satisfaction of hearing some of the man's precious pottery collection fall off the damn wall behind him as he slams the office door.
He makes it all the way down the corridor, BB-8 chirping more and more frantically in his wake, and back to his quarters before he lets the mask of fury drop.
He couldn't save Muran. He probably can't save the Zyde. But he'll write it all up, like a good boy, and they'll probably even give him a commendation for taking out five TIE fighters. And more people will die, and none of it'll mean a damn thing.
BB-8 chirrups sadly, nudging at his leg; he rubs his face with the back of his hand before he kneels down beside him. In the shadows of the room - he hadn't bothered to turn on the lights - the faint light of the droid's eye unit glows gently.
"Yeah, buddy, I know," he says, leaning his forehead against BB-8's cool dome. "I know."
