Warrior ◊ Star Wars

chapter twenty-three: death traps

"Okay c'mon." Poe talked over Mara's frustrated mumbling, and he was honestly afraid she was going to punch the console and hurt herself, "We've got this. We have eight hours at most, and we're two of the best aerial commanders possibly in the galaxy-"

"If you haven't noticed Dameron, aerial commanders usually strategize things in the AIR! We're on the ground, and there's only two of us!" Mara held up double obscene gestures, an odd desperation of anger about her, "Plus BB-8. What are those odds? There's going to be five to seven men to each one of us. And one of us is a droid!"

She turned around, pulling back her hair and puffing out large breaths of air. She blinked a few times, trying to calm down. Her anger seemed to clog her throat, but fear tore her gut open. It was wrenching and insidious, and Mara might as well be shaking. Oh god, it was hopeless now.

"After everything, everything!" She exclaimed, moving to the other side of the room with surprising speed, then coming back in what seemed to be pacing, "No! We're going to die after everything, after literally running away from huge monsters, after crashing, after-after everything! We're going to die!"

"We're not going to die." Poe leaned against the console, the statement lacking the proper faith for a believable deliverance, "We aren't."

Mara looked up from the floor, her already tangled hair now even more a mess. Her blue eyes showed a bit of green in them thanks to them being a little misty due to the overwhelming terror and abandonment she felt. She shook her head profusely, feeling as though she couldn't breathe, "Think about it Dameron. What chance do we have?"

It didn't fall completely silent as everyone took in the situation. There was still a few pops of circuits and the faint murmur of an electric hum. Mara heard the drumming of her heart swimming in her ears so loud, canceling out any other sound. Her breath was stuck somewhere at the bottom of her lungs and she felt as though her head had been flooded, the constant whoosh of her pulse drowning out any fabrication of a thought.

All she could feel was terror and betrayal and fear and anger and wanting to double over and throw up.

Across the room, Poe was reluctantly coming to the same realistic conclusion. No, there was no way off. No, they couldn't keep sending the signal on a compromised channel. They couldn't run, they'd probably die of dehydration and exhaustion. They couldn't fight, the tired two of them plus BB-8 were no match for twenty fresh men. There was no reasoning with the Order.

He didn't want to admit it, he really didn't want to. They'd survived the crash, animals, lack of provisions, multiple injuries, even each other. Now, when they could've finally escaped Ratakka, they were coming to kill them.

Not kill, Dameron thought, not just yet. He'd heard the stories of Resistance members that had been captured, things he never even wanted to imagine one person doing to another. They'd try to get information out of him, his base location and which government figures were backing the Resistance, etc. There was no telling what torturous lengths they would go to for him to give them what they wanted.

He looked back over at Mara, who'd stopped her fervent walking and had her back against the wall, attempting to take deep breaths. It was slim the troopers would take her back to the First Order. If their superiors did truly blow her out of the sky like she claimed, they just wanted her dead. She'd be killed instantly.

And BB-8? He'd be destroyed.

The quiet answered Mara's prior question. Hope seemed to slip away so fast as the guarantee of death floated above them like a dark cloud. The blonde sat down on the floor, bringing her legs together putting her forehead down on her knees. She breathed in, pressing her eyes closed and swallowing.