Chapter Text
The room was small, with only a single headache inducing pool of light cast down in the center of it. A black panel on the other side of the room made it clear the occupants of the room were being watched at all times, but made it less clear who was doing the watching. Aside from the door, there was only one other exit from the room - a narrow vent so high up that it was nearly level with the ceiling. If it was there to keep air circulating, it failed miserably. When he’d been in the room alone it had been uncomfortable but manageable. But once another body had been added to the mix, it became unbearably stuffy.
There was a heavy shine bouncing back from the smudged black table top before him, and Poe found himself grateful he hadn’t been handcuffed to it. Yet.
“I promise you, this has all just been a huge misunderstanding,” Poe said, leaning forwards as he addressed the man who’d seated himself on the other side of the table. “I told your intake droid that. Believe me, I want to cooperate completely with the New Republic Defense Forces—,” he continued, trailing off only when the man before him set down his data pad with a firm clip.
“This is not one of those situations where you talk first, son,” his interrogator said, twisting the data pad around so it faced Poe. “Let’s start with some introductions,” he added, not pausing for Poe to agree. “I’m Commander Tuck Kilvaari, and I oversee the Ranseur squadron. Now, according to the intake report, you—,” Kilvaari said tapping his finger against the tabletop beside his data pad, “—are Poe Dameron. Originally from the moon of Yavin Four, although you left that moon awhile back. Aged twenty-three, only child of two Rebellion heroes, and with quite the burgeoning track record.” Poe’s Republic identification card flickered on the screen.
“I don’t have a criminal record. There must be some kind of mistake.” Poe said quickly, invoking the annoyed look of the Commander, who pursed his lips tightly, before leaning back into his chair and folding his arms.
“No, but you’ve got quite the record of avoiding an actual criminal record. Lots of near misses for you in the last few years, combined with a hell of a lot of reckless behavior. Racing on Castilon. Avoiding authorities in Candovant which you explained away as another misunderstanding. No explanation as to what was being misunderstood. Connections to podracing, which has been outlawed—,”
“—that was never proven. I liked collecting old podracer models. I never flew any of them in a race. Collecting is completely legal.” Poe protested.
Kilvaari ignored him. “And today you’ve finally had those escapes catch up with you. Your intake charges are something. It’s quite the list - smuggling, trade and possession of Spice with intent to sell, criminal conspiracy, destruction of New Republic Naval property, and assault of New Republic military members in space. My Captain says you disabled five ships of his squadron’s ships while you gave them chase. Your spice running days are over.”
“And I’m telling you,” Poe said, holding up his open hands. “I had no idea those were Republic forces when they started shooting at me, and I definitely had no idea that this crew I was transporting was anything other than a totally above board droid supplies and upgrades. I checked the manifest against a random selection of cargo, and I ran the New Republic’s accreditation checks for traders. I did all my due diligence. It was your system who cleared them!” he defended, picking up the data pad to scrutinize the copy of his Republic ID. It was a genuine record, down to the brutally accurate record of his height; unlike the copies his former employers had provided him.
“I think this is just proof the background check system promoted by the New Republic is easily duped. They probably bought forged identification records, and innocent merchant pilots like me get thrown into the mix,” Poe said. “They even had catalog droids with them - you know, the kinds that display all the latest upgrades and chassis types. How was I supposed to have known they were spice traders?”
“You were heavily armed for just some droid cargo.” Kilvaari countered.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are still some dangerous parts of the galaxy out there,” Poe said, running a hand through his curls. “Of course the ship was armed. I knew the fastest way to get my clients to their destination could be potentially dangerous. We were going through contested territories full of pirates!” If some of those same pirates also happened to be his employer’s future customers, well, then that was someone else’s problem. He was a runner - no, a pilot - not a dealer.
Poe didn’t break away from Kilvaari’s unimpressed stare. He sighed. Getting caught by New Republic forces was bound to cut into his work.
Of course, Poe had made sure he would be lucky any time he took a job over the years. He never asked questions he didn't want the answers to. He hadn’t tried to open up any of the droids to see what their inner compartments might be holding. He knew what he'd find, and so he never looked. He wasn't naive, just aware that he had a better shot getting out of tight spaces than his more entrenched clientele. So long as he kept telling the truth - that he didn’t really know anything for sure - he might still be able to leave. Maybe even pick up more work on Takodana, away from Linth's crew. It would be less exciting work, but it would keep him on the circuit. And then hopefully his next big job wouldn’t end up having a New Republic informant on the team waiting to transmit their location to the Defense Forces.
“—You’ve seen what some of these pirates can do to an innocent cargo ship. It’s brutal. That’s why Linth put me on this job. She said it was important to have someone who could handle both flying and aiming a blaster in case we were attacked.” Or caught.
Kilvaari narrowed his watery blue eyes. An edge of exhaustion was beginning to wear into his face, creeping into the tension in his jaw that was visible under graying stubble. Poe knew he didn’t look any better - he’d been left in the room for several hours before anyone but a droid had been in to check on him. He’d considered napping several times while being left alone, but the room was purposefully too uncomfortable for that kind of thing. And even if he’d been able to get comfortable, Poe figured he would’ve still been silently hoping the Republic Defense Forces had been able to collect and account for every ship and officer he’d disabled during the fire fight.
But no matter how tired either of them were, Kilvaari pressed on. “And Linth chose you, because mommy and daddy let you play Rebel hero growing up? Not because you’ve been marketing yourself on black market circuits as a security pilot for high risk trade? Or something similar?”
“I—,” Poe began, before he changed tracks. “—No. Sure, my dad taught me how to fire a blaster. My mom taught me piloting. I grew up close enough to the Rebellion base on Yavin. So yes, my parents instilled a lot in me, including a desire to protect others." And a guilty conscience after years of getting into trouble on his own. Hell. That'd been why he hadn't killed anyone else in the air. "I didn’t offer up my services to the black market, I offered my services as a pilot. People don't care who my parents are as long as I can fly." So what if some of those people he’d flown had been smugglers? The jobs had been thrilling. And they’d given him a way to leave the family ranch, to leave Yavin, to stop only admiring vintage Rebellion supplies and ships in an abandoned base. To escape.
“Honestly, I learned to shoot a blaster mostly because Yavin has a lot of pests that would destroy my dad’s Koyo melon crops. Monkeys, mostly. Huge pain in the ass. Everyone thinks they’re so cute! They eat everything in sight, steal your supplies, and attack people. You ever read any logs from the Yavin Rebellion base? They all mention the monkeys.”
“I see,” Kilvaari said bluntly. “You got hired because you grew up stunning monkeys? None of that seemed unusual to you?”
“No,” Poe said, before tacking on, “—Sir. It didn’t. And I really didn’t know those ships were Republic. We started getting shot at without warning.” Not entirely true. “And if I’d known I was working for a smuggling ring, don’t you think I would’ve done more damage?” He'd certainly done it before. But this time...
“But you were okay running the cargo. You knew it would be a risk someone might start firing if you were carrying Spice.”
“I told you, I had no idea they were transporting anything other than droids. Linth's contact Jannin showed off some of the astromech models they were going to be pushing." Poe began again. "The worst thing I suspected of them was mistreating some of the droids—”
Outside the interrogation room, Lieutenant Neir addressed the newest arrival to the scene as he stepped in beside her. She hadn’t expected to see her old teacher show up at the New Republic Defense Force Outpost, but now that he was in the room, there was no one else whose opinion she wanted more.
“What are your thoughts, sir?” she asked, raising a brow as they watched Commander Kilvaari retread the same story, searching for holes. So far, they hadn’t found any. Not that that proved his innocence. It just proved he was good at wasting their time and keeping them running in circles as they tried to narrow in on a Spice ring full of far more dangerous people.
“How long did you say he’s been here for, again?”
“A few hours,” she said with a sigh. “We can’t keep him here forever.” Neir added, tapping her fingers against her datapad impatiently.
Her former mentor held out an open hand. “Let me take a look while I wait for Kilvaari. What did you say his name was again?”
Neir passed him her datapad. “Name is Poe Dameron. He’s been racing on Castilon, and hiring out on Takodana. Fell into a rough crowd along the spice routes when he left Yavin.”
“Dameron? As in Kes Dameron? Shara Bey?” he said, scrolling through the report.
“That’s what it says in the report. Do you know them?”
“Mm,” he replied. “I can see where he gets it from. His mother was one of the best pilots in the Rebellion,” he said, as Neir glanced over to watch his expression. That was certainly high praise coming from him. But high praise for a man’s mother didn’t mean he wasn’t a criminal. Neir fought to keep her expression neutral. It didn’t work.
“—I know that face, Neir.”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.” She did. She’d lost more than a few sabbac games in the academy because of that face. But rather than sigh, Neir simply folded her arms.
“I want a chance to speak with him,” he said, looking down at her seriously.
“Sir—,” Neir protested as she slumped forwards. He’d already made up his mind. “-In the grand scheme of things, we can still nail down Linth and Jannin even if we can’t get this kid. He’s going to be a repeat offender. If we don’t get him now, we’ll find something else another time. Commander Kilvaari is sure of it. Just another nerf herding punk.”
“Of course,” Wedge Antilles said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “And I’ve never dealt with those before.”