FIVE YEARS AGO, I was sent on a mission that would change my life forever. Little did I know, it would end it as well...
As a Trainee in the Aviation program, Poe Dameron comes from a broken family. His mother died when he was Eight, his Father brok...
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• p. dameron •
"YOU SAID HE WOULD BE OKAY. Why did you lie to me?"
* * * * *
As a little boy, the Resistance was only a dream to me. A dream that was led by a Princess—or so that's what Mom called her. The stories of the Resistance drew me closer to the base than ever before. Her name was Leia. Princess Leia Organa. The Princess ran the Rebellion. She led their cause. But she couldn't run it alone. She ran the Resistance with a Jedi, her twin brother, Luke Skywalker. She also ran the Resistance with a smuggler. The owner of one of the Galaxy's most famous ships—The Millennium Falcon. She ran the Resistance alongside Han Solo and Chewbacca, a Wookie from Kashyyyk. The Resistance ran on one simple message; Fight for the Resistance. As I grew up, I slowly learned that the Resistance wasn't a group of fake stories that Mom had made for me. The stories were real. And so too was the Resistance. I watched as the Resistance rose and the Empire fall. The Galaxy rejoiced at the news of the win. But then, The First Order rose from the ashes of the Empire and stood their ground. The First Order followed the same guidelines as the Empire. Hate Hope. Hope guides Rebellion. Hate Rebellion. I grow older, closer to the age of which I can join the fight, and the Princess was no longer a Princess. She was promoted to General. This mysterious smuggler was no longer a mystery. He was the husband of the General, father to their children. And the Jedi was now an Uncle. The Princess was leading a revolution all on her own. The Rebellion moto had also changed. It was once Fight for the Resistance, but now, it's been changed to Fight for The Galaxy. They had realized that there can be no Resistance if there isn't a Galaxy. Much earlier before then—at the age of eight—Mom passed away. The cause of her death is still unclear after all this time. Or so you tell me. But I did it. I joined the Resistance. And I promised you that I would, didn't I? - Poe—
"Attention!"
I put down my pen. I'll have to finish signing and sending my letter to Dad later. I stand, saluting as I know who is about to enter the Sleeping Quarters. I can hear the stomping of their boots on the Concrete outside of our quarters. I can smell the musk of the thick engine oil on their hands, the scent so strong I can almost taste the grime. I can feel the tension growing thicker and thicker with every stomp of their boots and scrape of their heel on the rough patch just two yards from the door. But then suddenly, they're there. He's there.
"At Ease." He says, cooly.
Everyone relaxes.
"My name is Han Solo. Some of you already know that, but others might not. I'm usually out doing my own personal business but I will be your reporting officer during your training." He says.
Han and I have known each other for a while. He came to my mother's funeral and has been a friendly face ever since. Han is a less intimidating man to follow. His wife, however, is the opposite. She is intimidating during work. But, if you know her personally, outside of work, she is just fine.
"Some of you have been recently accepted into our program for flight school. Others have been raised their whole lives preparing for this day. But, either way, you will all be treated as equals. But welcome to your first day in the Resistance. Welcome to your first day as Pilots. I'm sure you all have heard the stories of our Caped Crusader, Luke Skywalker. And I'm sure you all have heard the stories of General Organa and I fighting off the Empire on the Forest Moon of Endor. But, how many of you have ever heard a story about Chewie and I up in the sky in the Falcon?" Han asks.
I raise my hand. He looks at me, an eyebrow cocked, nodding.
"Yes, Private? What story have you heard?" He asks.
I clear my throat.
"The story of the Kessel Run, sir." I say.
He cocks an eyebrow.
"What about the Kessel Run, Private? What made this run so important?" He asks.
I sigh, shaking out my hands.
"The Kessel Run was one of the most heavily used smuggling routes in the Galactic Empire. It was claimed that your Millennium Falcon made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs. By moving closer to the black holes, you managed to cut the distance down from 14 parsecs to 11.5. BoShek actually beat your record in his ship, Infinity, but he did so without any cargo to weigh him down. A few months later, you beat both your own and BoShek's records in a run you made with Luke Skywalker." I say.
He nods.
"Very good, Private. Looks like someone's been doing their homework." He says.
He looks around.
"Tonight, the night is yours to do as you please. But, come tomorrow, you start your training for flight school. I'll see you all bright and early at 0600." He says.
He leaves and we're dismissed.
"Damn, you're a walking textbook, aren't you?" A boy asks.
He stands at a bunk bed across the aisle from me. I smile, shrugging.
"Sorry. I grew up on Yavin 4. There was nothing better to do than learn every little detail about the greatest Early Gens heroes of the Resistance. That or count the other 25 moons surrounding Yavin." I say.
He laughs, nodding.
"I'm Temmin Wexley." He says. "But my friends all call me Snap."
I nod, smiling at my newest acquaintance. Maybe I can find solace in him.
"I'm Poe. Poe Dameron." I say.
He cocks an eyebrow.
"Wait, Dameron?" He asks.
I bite my lip.
"Yeah." I say.
He starts to realize where I've come from, who I am.
"Dameron!" He exclaims.
I nod.
"Yes, Dameron. But, before you go and shout it from the rooftops, I'd prefer to keep my lineage a secret for now." I say.
He cocks an eyebrow.
"Why would you want to keep that a secret?" He asks. "Your name alone harbors talent and skill that a bloodline can only wish for."
"I just don't want to make too many enemies this early in the game." I say. "Or at least not for that reason."
He nods.
"Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry." He says.
Now I feel bad for wanting to keep my identity a secret. I feel bad for shooting him down. But... My past is private. I've lied about my mother. I've lied about my relationship with my Father. I can't do that anymore. I don't want to do that anymore. It's not fun to lie to the people who trust you most. Maybe, one day, I can make it up to him.
