Log:Mercy

Mercy

OOC Date: April 27, 2016
Location: Conference Room - D'Qar
Participants: Nym Landala, Poe Dameron

There's been time to decompress and go over the events of Sullust. However, Nym has been a bit more withdrawn and less driven since her return to the base. For the most part she simply goes through the motions and not even Artie's angry or motivational speeches have done much to push her. She's no longer up early to learn more about Red 2 - as it is still being repaired. There's less time logging in the simulator. For the most part it's been visiting the Med Bay when she can and then generally holing herself some place where she won't be disturbed.

At the moment, that's an abandoned conference room in the base. The small pilot sits at a chair, arms folded on the table in front of her, forehead resting there.

There's binary burbling that translates to 'she's in here' from the little orange and white ball droid. Poe peeks his head in a moment later. He pauses at the doorway, then looks down at the droid. "Hey bud, do me a favour. Go check on the repair status of our ships, will ya?"

BB-8 headswivels in a perplexed motion, then makes a sound that translates as 'Ohhhhh,' then 'OK.' before rolling off.

He raps on the door gently and then steps in. "Hey, Nym. Got a smelly bunkmate?"

Nym understands binary and generally knows the different tweets and beeps of the different droids that roll and rattle about the base. The burbling of BB-8 is heard and she generally knows what that means. Where BB-8 is, Poe Dameron is not far behind. The young woman gives a quiet sigh, picking her head up from the table and sitting a bit straighter when Poe knocks and then steps inside. "Oh, no, Major, I was just, you know. I just needed a quiet place to think." She gives a gesture toward the door. "You know how Artie gets. He's been lecturing me nonstop since I got back. Just thought I'd duck in here for a bit."

"That's what I meant. Smelly bunkmate. Or a homebody bunkmate. I had that at the academy. If she wasn't on-duty, she was lying on her bunk, reading and listening to music that was barely contained by her headphones." Poe snorts softly and pulls out a chair. "We haven't spoken since you got back. How're you feeling?"

"Artie's not smelly. Though, he does kind of have that grease aroma." Nym gives Poe a bit of a smile at the anecdote from the academy, but there's not a lot of wattage behind it. Her eyes drift down to the table in front of her. Her hand slides toward the corner, which she starts to pick at absently. "I'm fine. Okay. Better than others." She shrugs her shoulders a bit. Then, she glances over, changing the subject just a bit. "Thanks for checking in on me. I was just telling Lieutenant Dailo how that was your command style."

"Gossiping about me? Well, that's a latrine-cleaning offense," drawls Poe. It's clear that he's not any shade of serious. "What do you think of her? I know some of the other pilots might be put out that she's got Blue 2, but she has the experience to back it up. It does remain to be seen whether she'll jive with how we do things around here, but I have a good feeling about her. And I'm a pretty decent judge of character."

"It wasn't gossip," Nym defends slightly. "She just wanted to know what your commanding style was like." Possibly she shouldn't tell Poe this, but it seems the topic is a bit easier to discuss. "She seems fine. I only spoke with her briefly, but she was nice enough. I have no idea how she flies, though." As for his judge of character, there's a bit of a raised eyebrow, but not too seriously. Then, she looks down at the table again. "I know."

"Nym. What is it? Are you feeling crappy about crashing your fighter? Because let me tell you, I can tell you some stories about my first few years in the air." a beat, "Not involving me, naturally. I'm amazing and infallible. But about the others, phew! I'll tell ya." There's a glimmer in Poe's eye as he tries to catch hers.

There's a soft laugh - mostly just a quick uplift of her shoulders at Poe's quip. Nym doesn't look up at him, though. Not yet. She can't, exactly. "Yes," she replies with an exhale. "But...it's..." she takes a deep breath, shaking her head again. "It's a lot of stuff." There's another long pause and the words come out in a bit of a jumble. "Crashing the X-Wing, Hex, that TIE pilot." She stops short, finger picking at the corner of the table all the more fiercely now.

"Nym," begins Poe, gently, "You know you can talk to me, right? I'm here to help you." After he says that, he goes silent. He'll wait however long it takes for the young pilot to fill the resulting silence.

It's a long silence before Nym speaks. It's one she keeps expecting him to break. After awhile, she sighs. It's a soft sound. She still doesn't look up. "It's just..." Her eyes squeeze shut. "What they did to Hex and Major Greystorm. And I..." she shakes her head. "Where was I? I was their air support. I panicked. I was somewhere on Sullust talking to a TIE fighter pilot while this was all happening to them."

"You were doing their job. While you were doing yours. Believe me, Nym, I've felt that helpless before. I've provided air support while people fought on the ground below. But you have to think - would you have been of more use to them down there? Or in the air, where your talents lie?" Poe smiles a small smile. "Imagine how my folks used to feel. Fighting the Empire. One of them in an A-wing, the other leading a ground strike."

There's another bout of silence from Nym as Poe attempts to comfort her. There's even more of a wince at the words that he uses, the method to help. It makes her think of her own family, the fear that they must have had. The hand that was so intent on picking at the edge of the table quickly raises and presses against her eyes against the tears that are threatening to fall there. "I let her go, Poe!" Her voice is breakable, cracking as she says it. "I--I could have shot her. I had her drop her weapon. I really thought I could bring her in for questioning or something. But, I just--I couldn't. I couldn't shoot her and I couldn't keep her captive. I was so alone down there. I was so scared." There's a shuddering breath. "And they did--to Hex--how will--I can't--"

It takes Poe a moment to put it all together. When he does, he sucks in a long breath. If Nym happens to look up, she'll see compassion in his eyes. He lets her get her breath back before he says, "You couldn't shoot someone in cold blood. That's nothing to be ashamed of." He pauses a moment, looking down, then up. "We think they might be brainwashing their people, Nym. You remember that I have a standing order not to fire on anyone who is helpless, right? You were just following that order." He reaches across the table for her hand, if she'll let him. "Look at me."

However, Nym doesn't look up. She's too ashamed and guilty to look at Poe at the moment. "I've been saying she got away." Which, technically, she did. "But, that was because of me." It's only when Poe reaches across the table to take her hand does she finally look up at him. Her hand in his is mostly just limp. The tears she was desperate to quell have fallen and continue to do so. "She could have killed me. In the sky. She had a missile lock. It's why we crashed into each other. I panicked and clipped her." Shaking her head, she looks down again. "She told me how good of a pilot I was, that I should join the First Order." The very thought makes her shiver. Then, her shoulders slump. "She told me her name." Her other hand wipes against her eyes again. "And during that whole time, they were..." maiming Hex and Ambrosia, setting buildings on fire.

Poe squeezes Nym's hand gently. "Hey. You saw the enemy as a person. You couldn't gun her down. We do not..." he squeezes her hand to add emphasis, "...shoot to kill when our lives are not in immediate danger. That's not who we are. I've let First Order pilots go before. And I'd like to think that's part of the reason she talked to you at all. Because we aren't like them." He reaches out to sandwich her hand between both of his. "I would have let her go, too."

There's a pause, a silence after Poe's comfort is spoken where the only sound is the sniffling from Nym. Finally, though, her hand grips the one Poe took in a quick hold. Finally, she looks up at him again, this time maintaining eye contact. "You would have?" It's something she's struggled with since returning. After such horrible things happened to the Resistance, she has feared saying this. To hear a confirmation from Poe is something that means quite a lot to her.

"Yes," says Poe, unflinchingly. "I don't want you to be the kind of person who guns down someone just because they could be a threat. We aren't the ones who ruthlessly attack our enemies. And I don't believe that mercy is a sign of weakness. If you had taken her out, that wouldn't have changed what happened to Hex and the others. But maybe what happened with this pilot will chip away, just a little, at whatever propaganda she's been fed her whole life. You showed her a better way."

While Nym watches Poe while he speaks, she doesn't reply right away. Instead, she closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath. The tears refuse to stop falling for now, but she ignores them. She's not sure what else to say. She puts her forehead down, for a moment, on the table right beside their hands, wiping the tears away with her free hand. Then, she sits up again. "Thank you, Poe," she say softly.