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chapter twenty-six: the pilot
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"THIS IS A BAD IDEA," Indira Beren announces, staring down at the controls of the ship in front of her. Numerous buttons and switches of varying sizes and colors litter the dash of the old A-wing trainer ship and she takes in the sight of them with a skeptical expression. Narrowing her gaze, she glances over at the man beside her in the instructor's seat. "You are aware of that, right? This is a very, very, very bad idea."

"This is a great idea," Poe Dameron disagrees, lounging back in his seat and kicking his feet up on the dash. "Best idea I've ever had."

It's their first day off since the destruction of Starkiller and Poe had taken it upon himself to use that time to teach Indira how to fly; something she had vehemently protested — and was still protesting — after being dragged into the cockpit of the dilapidated A-wing ship that was reserved for training new pilots for the Resistance. Indira would have preferred to have taken their time off to sleep, but Poe Dameron had very different ideas about how he wanted them to spend their downtime.

He'd shown up at her room at the absolute crack of dawn, refusing to leave until she reluctantly rolled out of bed to go with him. Indira had yawned and complained the entire way to the hangar until he'd sat her down in the pilot's seat and told her that she was going to fly the ship. After that, she'd found herself very wide awake and extremely determined to not fly the fossil-like piece of scrap metal that she was seated in.

Indira pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "Poe, I don't like flying," she tells him for what has to be at least the ninety-seventh time. "I'm a shit pilot."

"I refuse to believe that," he says stubbornly. "Anyone can learn how to fly. You just haven't had the right teacher."

"Oh, and you know me so much better than I know myself?"

"I mean, it's possible," he says and she narrows her eyes to slits, causing him to straighten up quickly. "Did I say possible? I meant to say impossible."

"Better," she replies, keeping one brow raised at him before she turns back to the controls of the ship. "I just don't see why this is necessary."

"Safety, sweetheart," Poe replies, sitting up further to rest his chin on the shoulder of her seat. "Same reason you learned how to shoot a gun and throw a punch. You never know when being able to pilot a ship might save your life." His face twists into a grimace, trapped in the reminder of some unpleasant memory. "Believe me."

The issue isn't so much that Indira doesn't know how to fly at all because that's entirely untrue; she'd gotten her basic pilot's license during her teen years, same as everyone else, and learned how to fly a ship at the most rudimentary levels of flight. That being said, military flight was an entirely different subject matter — all the maneuvers and strategies and tactical diversions were far different from any other type of flying.

During her earliest weeks at the Hosnian Flight Academy, Indira had discovered very quickly that she was much better suited to working on ships on the ground rather than sitting behind their controls in the air — a fact that Kali could personally attest to after Indira had vomited on the other girl's shoes after her first time running a flight simulation. Since that fateful day, Indira had stubbornly refused to get behind the controls of a ship.

"This is embarrassing," she complains. "People are watching."

"Nobody is watching," Poe lies, knowing damn well that their entire friend group of shit-talking rebel commandos were most definitely watching from somewhere on the base. "And even if they are, no one is gonna expect you to be the best pilot in the Resistance. That title belongs to me, remember?"

Indira rolls her eyes at him. "How could I forget?" She asks, poking him on the chest. "You only remind me of that fact at least three times a day. What about the most humble pilot in the Resistance, hm? You ever heard of that one?"

Unbothered, Poe just shakes his head and grins. "No idea who that is, but it definitely ain't me."

Indira sighs, knowing that the conversation is hopeless. "At least you're self aware."

     "Exactly," Poe agrees before nodding his head towards the ship's dashboard. "Now let's go. The longer we sit here, the more people will watch."

She looks at him accusingly. "You said no one would be watching!"

"Indira, quit stalling," he groans, rubbing temples. "If anything goes wrong, I'll take over the controls, okay? I just want you to try. For the sake of my peace of mind, I'll feel a lot better knowing you can pilot a ship with some degree of proficiency should the situation require it."

     Indira sighs before nodding, knowing that he has a point no matter how much she would like to deny it. "Alright," she concedes finally, settling her hands on the yoke of the ship. "Let's do this."

"Thank you," Poe exhales, sitting back in his seat.

     She switches on the ship's power, listening to the engine kick itself into gear. The aged transport creaks and groans, slowly waking up its systems. Indira gives it a few minutes before reaching for the throttle, preparing to take the ship up into the air. "Alright," Poe says next to her. "Now, you wanna do this next bit fast, but you don't want to do it too fast —"

Before he can finish the sentence, she punches the throttle all the way down, sending the A-wing shooting out of the hangar and up into the air at full speed. Despite its age and clunky craftsmanship, the ship has a good kick to it. It climbs higher and higher into the sky at an alarming speed before Indira forces the ship to steady itself at a suitable altitude, jostling them both unpleasantly.

"Whoa!" Poe exclaims once he's caught his breath. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Indira replies defensively. "I don't know what I have to do to get this through your head, but I fix ships, Poe — I don't fly them!"

"Alright, alright," Poe says, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Take it easy. We're fine; everything's fine. That was good — just a bit ... faster than I expected. But it was fine!"

    Indira scowls at him. "Don't patronize me."

    "I'm not!" He protests. "You did fine! Seriously, Indira, you're overthinking this. Flying a ship is no harder than fixing one. You already know the ins and outs of how this thing works; now you just need to learn how to use it."

He pauses, sitting up more in his seat to lean over the console. "I want you to try to roll," he says, holding up a finger when she makes a face. "No, don't give me that look. Rolling is easy. All you have to do is shift the stick up a little — not too much — and then pull a hard left or a hard right. The ship will follow."

    Though still somewhat apprehensive, Indira listens to his instructions while nodding. "Okay," she mutters, shifting her hand on the gear. "I can do this. I can do this. I can do this."

    "Yes, you can," Poe confirms. "Now, roll. Pull up and pull right."

    She reaches for the control, fully prepared to press forward before chickening out at the last second and letting go. "No, I lied!" Indira exclaims, shaking her head back and forth. "I'm sorry, I totally lied. I can't do this!"

    "Hey, relax," Poe instructs; no stranger to nervous pilots in the cockpit after years spent training recruits. "Just breathe. Indira, we're both fine. The ship is fine. Everything is fine. There's absolutely nothing to worry about." He reaches out, slotting his hand over hers on the gear. "You trust me?"

    Without hesitation, she nods and his lips quirk up into a soft smile. "Then let me show you," he says. His hand tightens its grip on hers slightly, coaxing it to slowly shift the gear upward and then to the right.

     The ship responds to the command easily, rolling into a 360-degree turn and leaving them both weightless for a moment. Indira watches the world outside tilt upside down in a continuous loop and feels her stomach drop before the ship rights itself and continues cruising along at its high elevation. There's a certain sort of giddiness that follows the lack of gravity and it seems to go directly to her head. Indira can't decide if she loves it or hates it.

      As soon as the ship is steady once more, Poe beams at her; eyes crinkled and smile wide with the pure, unadulterated joy he gets from flying. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" He asks, nudging her gently with an elbow. "I told you it was easy!"

Indira looks back at him with wide eyes before tightening her hand on the control. "Show me again," she demands, wanting to be able to do it herself.

Poe obliges her request and sends them into a roll just like the one they'd achieved just moments before, taking the breath out of Indira's lungs before setting them straight. "Now, you try," he says, releasing her hand and nodding at her expectantly.

      The younger woman furrows her brow in concentration before mimicking Poe's actions from before, guiding the ship into an easy horizontal tumble. It's not quite as smooth as Poe's and they lose some altitude in the roll, but she still does it and that's an achievement in her book; no matter how small it may be.

She looks over at Poe with an excited expression once the ship is flying steady once more. "Did you see that?" She asks, eyes wide and bright. "I did that!"

      "See, what'd I tell you, huh?" He asks, filled with equal enthusiasm. "I told you that you could do it — and I was right!"

"Yeah, yeah," she says, waving him off dismissively. "You should consider yourself lucky that I didn't puke on your shoes."

Poe screws up his face in confusion. "What?"

She grins at him and shakes her head. "You'll have to ask Kali to tell you the story of how we met."

He makes a face. "I'm not entirely sure that I want to."

      "No, maybe not," she concedes, settling back into the pilot's seat. "It is pretty disgusting."

Poe has her practice the move a few more times until it feels almost natural to her, complimenting and critiquing her when necessary. Once she's got the hang of that one, he has her try a few other basic flight maneuvers with varying degrees of success. As time stretches on, her grip on the throttle loosens as the tension in her body slowly begins to ebb away. By no means does she consider herself ready to jump into a ship and start blowing things up, but Indira definitely feels more confident behind the controls than she had before. Whether or not she wants to accept it, Poe had been right; flying isn't nearly as terrible as she had previously thought it would be.

When day finally breaks, they take a moment to pause their lesson and admire the view of the sunrise from the cockpit window. Watching from above as the sun breaks through the clouds over D'Qar is something special; like flying over a sea of soft pink and golden hues. The sight alone had definitely made their early morning excursion worth it — though that is a fact that Indira won't willingly admit. She doesn't want to encourage Poe to continue depriving her of her days to sleep in.

"Not bad for a first date, huh?" Poe asks, looking rather impressed with himself once the sun has fully risen.

"Oh, is that what this is?" Indira asks him, looking over at him expectantly. "A date?"

Going on a date — a real date — had been a point of contention for them. Both of them had been extremely busy in the days following Starkiller, preventing them from taking the time to actually spend more than a few spare moments together in the mess hall or the training room. Poe had been busy running drills with the pilots and Indira had been bogged down by the myriad of repairs needed on the ships that had been salvaged from their first scuffle with the first order. Dating had seemed very frivolous compared to all of that, but that didn't mean that they weren't trying. It was just ... difficult at times.

"I mean, that's the vibe that I was getting here," he says, waggling his eyebrows at her flirtatiously. "I think this has all been very romantic so far."

     "Poe," she says warily, failing to share his fanciful notions of romance and grandeur. "This is so totally not our first date."

     "Whaaat?" Poe protests. "It's sexy!"

    Indira gapes at him in disbelief. "Poe Dameron!"

     "I speak the truth!" He argues. "We're alone, we've got a really nice view, there's no one around to interrupt us — this has got all the makings of a really nice first date!"

    She shakes her head back and forth in disagreement. "We are, quite literally, thousands of feet up in the air right now. You are in the middle of teaching me how to fly in case  — gods forbid it — some First Order assholes try to kill me," Indira replies, arching a brow at him. "And half of our conversation has been centered around the time that I upchucked on Kali's shoes. Forgive me if I fail to see the romance in that."

"Then I'll just have to help you see it," he replies, arching a brow at her.

      She squints skeptically. "Oh yeah?"

      "Yeah," he says, eyes darting down to her lips before meeting her gaze once more.

      She can already see what he's going to do before he even makes his move. "Poe," she warns him. "Poe Dameron, don't you dare! We are in the middle of flying —"

     "That's what autopilot is for," he cuts her off, flicking the switch on the dash to turn the ship's automatic controls on before leaning over the console to cup her face in his hands and kiss her.

     Whatever protest had been on her lips dies instantly as Indira sighs into his mouth, allowing him to draw her attention away from their surroundings and focus onto him. It'd been a few ways since they'd had the opportunity to share a quiet instant like this with each other; one that was private and intimate and meant for them and them alone. In the chaos of the post-Starkiller world, finding time to just be with one another had been more difficult than either of them had anticipated.

    Her fingers trace his jawline, feeling the stubble there from his lack of a proper shave, before threading their way into his hair and tugging gently to pull him closer. The setup for their tryst could definitely be a little more romantic and, frankly, more comfortable, but Indira is happy enough to forget about that for the time being — even if her knees are cramped and her neck is twisted at an odd angle. In the midst of an extremely nuanced and complicated war, the simplicity of kissing is something she can definitely appreciate. Just as his hand begins to slide from her neck to drift lower, they're cut off by a loud chirping noise that makes the two of them jolt in surprise.

      Their noses bump as they break apart, both of them frowning at the sound of an incoming radio transmission. Poe glares at the blinking light on the dash, gaze narrowed with obvious frustration. "I hate you," he mutters at the inanimate object before Indira rolls her eyes at him and pushes his face away from hers, yanking her hand away when he tries to bite her index finger.

She switches the transmission on, pausing for a moment to listen to whoever is on the other line. "Lieutenant Beren, Commander Dameron," General Organa's voice crackles across the ship's radio. "Do you copy?"

Indira's nose wrinkles at the use of her title, having nearly forgotten about the promotion she had received after the battle of Starkiller base. "We copy, General," she confirms. "Is something wrong?"

Leia pauses; uncharacteristically reticent as she searches for words. "I'm ... not entirely sure," her aunt — gods that still sounds strange — admits. The general's voice is troubled, but not fully alarmed. "You've got a visitor, kiddo."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "A visitor?" She repeats, wondering if she might have misheard. "Who?"

     The general sighs. "You'd better get down here and see for yourself."

     INDIRA PEERS INTO THE one-sided window of the holding cell, frowning deeply as she takes in the appearance of the general's so-called visitor. The man's hands are chained behind his back as he sits at an interrogation table in total isolation, head facing downward so that his face is concealed from view. From her place outside of the cell, Indira can just barely make out the insignia of the First Order emblazoned onto his monochrome uniform. Still, for some inexplicable reason she feels like she knows him even though she can't explain why.

"He said he wanted to speak to you and you only," General Organa says from just behind Indira's shoulder, causing the young woman to turn and face her. The older woman looks tired in her black attire; hair twisted into an elaborate Alderaanian mourning style as she continues grieving the death of her husband.

      "Me?" Indira frowns. "Why? Who is he?"

"A pilot from the First Order," the older woman replies, eyes narrowed slightly. "We presume that he is defecting — either that or he has conducted the worst covert operation that any of us have ever seen."

      Indira's lips twitch into a half-smile before she focuses on the figure of the pilot once more, filled with curiosity. "Do you think it's safe for me to speak with him?"

    Poe's mouth curls downward at that, looking somewhat concerned. "Is he dangerous?" He asks the general. "Would he try and hurt her?"

    "He's been nothing but cooperative so far," Leia replies with a shrug. "No resistance to his arrest; no violent outbursts." She glances over at Indira. "You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. I can easily send in Wexley or Pava to get some answers out of him — but I wouldn't have offered if I thought he might do you harm."

     Indira considers this for a moment, chewing on her lip with hesitation before shrugging. "Let me talk to him," she says finally, meeting Leia's gaze. "I'll hear what he has to say. If he tries anything, then you can send someone else in to deal with him."

     Poe scowls. "He'd better not try anything," he says darkly; not entirely thrilled with the current plan, but also knowing his place. As much as he'd rather Indira not go into an interrogation cell alone with a stranger from the First Order, it's not his position to decide what she does or doesn't do.

    "I'll be fine," Indira promises, squeezing his hand lightly before turning back towards the general and looking at her expectantly.

     "Alright, we'll do this now," Leia agrees, approaching the cell door before punching a code into the keypad.

     Indira takes a deep breath and steps into the room, watching the pilot's head snap up as he looks up at her. There's a moment of disbelief as Indira recognizes his face and she freezes momentarily, stopping dead in her tracks.

     The last time she'd seen the man before her had been on Starkiller base. She'd been surrounded by snow and darkness, barely managing to hold herself together as she, Finn, and Rey fled the scene of Han's murder. The captain had trained a gun onto her chest — could have fired and killed her at will where she stood — but he'd let her and her friends go without explanation. The only other detail Indira remembered about him had been the twined cord wrapped around his neck; one almost identical to the one she wears every single day. As she studies his figure in the present, she can see the cord still tucked into the neckline of his uniform.

"It's you," Indira says, brow furrowing slightly.

The man regards her with equal unsureness. He watches her warily, eyes a strange shade of pale green-blue with dark circles beneath them, giving him the appearance of someone who hasn't slept well in several days. "It's me," he agrees, finally, after a long pause.

Not sensing any hostility from him, Indira walks further into the room and lowers herself into the chair across from him. "What's your name?" She asks once she's seated, nodding her head in his direction.

"Stefan," he replies. "Stefan Nakada."

Indira frowns as she tries to remember if she's heard that name somewhere before, but finds herself at a loss. "Why are you here, Stefan?"

He frowns, lips curling downward in a way that makes his exhaustion appear even more pronounced. "I knew I needed to try and make things right."

     "You're defecting?" Indira clarifies and he nods in confirmation. "Why?"

"I was tired," Stefan admits and it's not difficult for Indira to believe that he's telling the truth from his slumped shoulders and pinched features. "I was so tired. You — you don't understand it until you live it. The First Order sucks the life out of you. You follow orders and you play your part and you become a piece in their machine, stripped away from every part of yourself as it takes and takes — until there's nothing left but a hollow shell of your former self. I didn't want that to be me and I knew I had to leave before I was lost."

In a way, he reminds her of Finn and it makes Indira's heart ache. The former stormtrooper had yet to awaken from his coma; still sleeping deeply as his body tried to heal itself from the trauma of Kylo Ren's deadly blow to his spine. Both Finn and Stefan had an exhaustion to them that seemed to make their shoulders sag; their spirits battered and bruised from their time under such merciless leadership.

"You let me and my friends go," Indira murmurs, recounting their first meeting. "Is that why?"

He shakes his head. "No. I hate to admit it, but it was only when I saw your necklace that I decided to do it," Stefan confesses, nodding at the cord around her neck. "I have one, too. My uncle gave it to me when I was a baby. He, uh, he was a rebel back during the days of the Alliance, but he died before I ever really got to know him." For a moment he pauses, eyes filled with guilt and sadness and something else she can't place. "I knew he would have been ashamed of the life I was living. I didn't want to live that way anymore."

"Your uncle," Indira says, brow furrowing slightly. "What was his name?"

Stefan gives her a sad smile. "His name was Bodhi. Bodhi Rook."

a/n: welcome to act ii! as you can see, there are already a few subtle changes occurring where this fic will be deviating from the canon of the films and that will be continuing throughout the rest of the story. our new friend stefan nakada belongs to the lovely malisandre and he is one of a few new characters that will be added into this act of the fic in the same way that characters like kali & cosimo joined act one! more to come on him in the next chapter!

EDITED ON:
10.17.19