A new fic. To those who read my other fics, I want to assure you, I have every intention of finishing them. I loved The Force Awakens. And I loved Poe. So naturally, a fic was born! Thank you reading and I hope you enjoy this intro!

The Runaway.

Yasutra.

The planet was a shell; crippled by ravenous industry and greed. Most of the native life forms, both flora and fauna, had long since died out; destroyed by fire and furies. The, the planet had been carved out from the inside; it's most valued specimens harvested. What had once been a home to teeming ecosystem flush with life was now barren. Mountains once covered with trees and moss were arid and colorless. Now, it was nothing more than a rocky way-station. A last resort for hapless travelers.

Winter had come to the East Mountains. Traces of warmth and light only graced their surface for a paltry five hours each day. With the nightly chill came furious wind storms that bombarded the mountainous landscape, kicking up ash and impeding even the keenest of vision. Only the most hardened of life forms could survive in such a place.

Amongst the rocky terrain, a single remnant of a once thriving factory could still be seen. A door. It sat before a flattened ridge that overlooked the canyons below. Such a landing had not been accessed for nearly a decade. And yet, at it's center a small red light, continued to flash. A lone sign that somehow, even in the throes of a slow death, the planet still played host to life.

Suddenly, the light's monotonous tick increased its output by a half second, then it changed to green and the door it monitored slid open a crack. The door resisted at first, held back an heavy accumulation of coppery rust. A gloved hand flung out, gripped the door and dragged it open. It emitted loud, protesting groans, but finally gave way. A swell of heat from inside collided with the icy tempest outside, causing the figure to stumble back.

The wild winds knocked her hood away, revealing the heavily freckled face of a young woman. Her amber hair was wound up in a tight knot at the back of her head. She was clothed entirely in black, save for one gloveless hand.

Puffs of hot air left her mouth in ragged flurries. They were quickly caught up by the wind and carried away. The heat that kept her warm inside of the cavernous quarters was quick to dissipate. As the door slid shut behind her, she could feel flecks of frost begin to form on the tips of her eyelashes. She lifted her bare hand to her face, her fingers brushing against the skin under her eyes.

Wet. Her brain registered before returning to more pressing concerns. Already, her exposed skin felt frozen through. She could feel the joints in her fingers go stiff, but it was a temporary inconvenience.

As she thought on all that had happened in the last ten hours, she could feel pressure growing in her chest.

Don't panic. She tried to calm herself. But she couldn't quiet the voices in her head. Soon they began to mix together, making her dizzy.

She winced as another gust of wind assaulted her already chilled form. As she struggled to return her hood to head, she fought the urge to return to the safety of the base.

As if spurred on by the howling winds, one voice began to resonate louder than all the others. It was her own thankfully, chanting the same two words over and over.

No more.

No More.

She whirled, turning her attention back to the now sealed door. She knew very well what awaited her on the other side. Soon the transport ship would be repaired and she would be expected to escort her patient to the waiting hands of the Supreme Leader.

And then…

"No, I can't." She said aloud, though her voice was far too shaky to convey the conviction that boiled in her gut. She felt her throat tighten and resisted the urge to wretch.

Unable to hold back any longer, she began muttering to herself. Her words came out in fractured sentences, barely audible against the shrill whining winds.

"How could he...I'm not-without a word! The bastard."

She turned away from the door, unable to dwell on it for a second longer. She focused her attention on the landscape before her blanketed in thick, gray winds.

Before the expansion, before the First Order had all but abandoned the planet, she had called Yasutra home. Though time had passed and though the landscape had changed dramatically, she remembered it's sweeping highlands well. Even now when all surviving vegetation was hidden under layers of ash, she knew what lay before her.

Beyond the canyon sat the Nonayasu Mines, abandoned now that the First Order had bled dry their cavernous walls of all vital metals and ore. And even further out lay the wastelands, with no sign of life except for…

Except for the Rebel Outpost. She realized, a breath of hope hitching in her throat. ...Likely abandoned.

Likely...but not confirmed.

She blinked, her eyes stinging under the strength of the icy winds. She considered her options, the time it would take, the consequences she would face if she were unsuccessful.

It's insane. She thought; logic offering no solace. Even if I make it there, the chances that there are still-

No more.

If she turned back, she knew what would happen. She couldn't change the outcome. She had no power there.

Run. She thought. It's the only chance you have.

Steeling herself, she lifted the hood of her coat over her head and shoved her bare hand deep into her pocket. She then veered to the right, where a set of stairs had been carved out of the stone.

She didn't allow herself a final look back. She knew if she did, she would falter.

So with frightened haste and newfound purpose, she began her descent and fled into the storm.

The Pilot.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

Poe Dameron regretted the words the second they left his mouth. But he could do nothing to take them back.

He sat at a long table. Across from him sat two of his superiors. The first was his commander, Desmen Riker. He was portly man well past the age of service, but he was an ingenious strategist and had not lost his taste for excitement. He had served The Resistance for many years and had known Poe's father for quite some time. In times of boredom or grief, Poe would seek his counsel and never tired of the stories he would tell.

Sitting to RIker's left, was the General herself. She was clothed in jewel tones that suited her royal upbringing. She too, had many a story to tell about Poe's long gone parents, but she rarely spoke of the early days of the rebellion. Especially now, after the loss of Han Solo.

She looked upon him now with a humor and patience only a mother could muster.

Laid out on the table in front of them was a dossier. It was thin. Only three pages were contained in the folder. And Poe had already scanned each one of them twice over.

"You did request a new mission, Black Leader." His commander said, eyeing the file himself.

"Yeah, but-" Poe began.

"And after your admirable work on Jakku." Riker continued. "We believe you are the best person for this operation."

Poe shifted his attention to General Organa. She had not yet chosen to speak, but it was clear she shared Riker's opinions. Poe couldn't help but feel pride at such a glowing sentiment, though he would still need convincing that it was deserved. Afterall, he had not completed the mission on Jakku. Very little credit belonged to him.

"What makes you think you can trust the girl?" He asked.

"I've spoken with her directly." General Organa answered. "Our initial communication had led me to believe that what she has to offer is indispensable to our cause."

"Forgive me, General." Poe responded, "But it says on page two that the communication was unexpectedly cut short. What if it was intercepted? What if this is a trap?"

Leia smiled knowingly. The pilot had grown cautious after his last mission. It was likely a phase, soon to be shoved away after another easy victory. Still, it was a sign of growth and Leia was proud to be witness to it. Discretion, after all, was just as valuable as courage.

"Yasutra has become a dangerous planet in its decay." The General said. "Most of the transmissions received from that outpost have been incomplete."

Poe considered his options. He had been gunning for a new mission. For another chance to prove himself. He had been lauded for his efforts on Jakku and while there was no shame in such a failure, he was itching to complete a mission on his own.

He leaned forward, his eyes glancing over the first page again. It seemed unwise to chase a lead in what was still considered First Order territory. They couldn't risk the chance of being caught by the First Order, not now that Poe and many others knew the location of Luke Skywalker. Poe understood better than most that such information could not be kept from the First Order.

But if the General was assured that a successful mission was worth the peril, who was he to argue?

The plan was simple. He would fly out to the Outer Rim and the Resistance faction there would supply him with a new ship. A freighter most likely. Something small. Something the First Order would deem insignificant. He would then use the ship to make the journey to Yasutra and escort the defector back to the Resistance base.

A stealth mission. He thought, adrenaline surging through him.

"General Organa," He said, grinning wide. "I won't let you down."

Yay, intro! If you are new to my fics, please know that my intro chapters are always shorter. And I do admit this is very short. I like to get all the pieces together before really diving in. That said, I would love to hear any initial thoughts you readers may have! I'm really excited to share this fic. Thank you so much for reading. 3