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The Scavenger - Day 19, Part 3
I turned off the power supply, Rey was reciting, teeth biting into the flashlight she held between her lips as she twisted her upper body through the reinforced hull of the TIE she had piloted during the battle over Cloud City.
I drained the pipes and closed the security valves on the cockpit, she continued, setting her back against one of the metallic beams twisting its way inside the ship's connection arm.
I made sure there is no power running through the electric circuits. There shouldn't be a problem.
Having assured herself for the umpteenth time that she had taken all security measures, Rey took a wrench from her belt, rapidly releasing the brackets holding each side of what, if the sheer amount of silver liquid pooling underneath it was any indication, was the damaged section of her coolant system, before carefully removing it. Almost instantly, an acrid smell filled her nose, making her scramble out of the open section of the TIE's connection arm, gasping for air.
Bad idea. This was a bad idea!
Fearful she might expel a lung in her ensuing coughing fit, Rey took a quick look at the cracked pipe section she had taken out and determined the damage was too severe to repair herself, before tossing it up and over the TIE's right solar panel. It flew a meter over it before disappearing into the darkness. Rey listened as she tried to regain full use of her lungs, raising her arms in victory a few seconds later when a loud clang and the sound of several pieces of metal falling served as proof she had hit her target.
"Five points!" she announced, her enthusiasm at her feat broken instantly by a fit of coughing and her stomach twisting itself into a painful knot, as the reason she had dedicated herself to the frustrating endeavor of fixing a TIE once again threatened to take over her thoughts.
Don't go there. Don't go there, Rey.
Letting herself fall onto her back, legs still inside the open hatch, Rey looked around for an instant. Her eyes went over the dots of light running along the dock's metal walkways, their glow was not nearly enough to break the deep wall of darkness around her, before her eyes focused on the light above her TIE.
The dock had been empty for hours, the sounds of engines and cannons being tested having long been replaced by the heavy footsteps of the stormtroopers patrolling the dock, their voices echoing in the structure alongside muffled laughter. It was quiet, peaceful even, and yet, as she laid here, the cold wind coming from the open launching ramp under her swirling around the TIEs, she could do little more than feel angry. The calm she had been sure the night would bring her—for it always had in Jakku—the solitude she so desperately needed to sort out her thoughts, to stop agonizing about everything that was going wrong and find some sort of balance within herself, was well beyond her reach.
Things were not supposed to be going like this. She was not supposed to be—
Staring at the ceiling wallowing in self-pity? She asked herself, rolling her eyes as she did so. Back to work, Rey.
Immediately she was on the move again, cautiously sniffing the air before leaning forwards and reentering the TIE's connection arm. A few minutes later she was out, one hand forcing the lose strands of hair out of her face as the other pointed the flashlight towards the now repaired coolant pipe and the firmly closed brackets on its ends. Beneath it, the leaked liquid was moving slightly, little waves—probably caused by wind hitting the dock—crashing at the puddle's edges. She would have to find a way to clean that. Now, however, she had other priorities.
Rey closed the lid, screwed it shut, and made her way back into the TIE's well lit cockpit.
This had better work, she thought, leaning over a small open section of the wall and reconnecting the right wing's power supply to the cabin. Then, she turned towards the cooling system security valve.
Moment of truth…
Rey crossed her fingers as she turned the valve, making her way to the pilot's chair where she waited, expectantly, to see if the check lights would start up on the TIE's maintenance screen.
She had been at this for hours—going up and down the TIE's connection arm, repairing parts, fixing fried wiring, testing systems, expecting to see them work.
It was, she was forced to admit, an absolutely maddening task and it wasn't made any easier by the fact that whoever had designed the TIE had made it nearly impossible to fix. A slight malfunction, the smallest of breaks, and this absolutely amazing piece of technology—a ship that was any pilot's dream—was meant to be tossed aside and scrapped. It irked the scavenger in her fiercely—nothing, not the ship, not its systems, not even its pieces, had been meant to outlive their initial value.
I feel like most things here aren't, Rey mused, sitting on the pilot's chair, one hand supporting her head as the maintenance screen kept generating its log. Not even people.
Eyes settling on the dark piece of sky under the dock on the other side of the TIE's circular window—the silhouette of a ship, lights blinking, appearing over the clouds—Rey sighed. She had no idea what was making her think like that, what was making her so sure the Order existed in some sort of transient state to which everything within it bowed down, but there was a strange atmosphere around her, an unlived something that was making her feel she had stepped inside a grave.
If this is the Force trying to tell me something, I really wish it would stop.
She didn't need some cryptic message that could be interpreted a dozen different ways weighing on her mind when there was already so much to worry about. She was in need of clarity, not confusion. She was in need of some peace of mind, not still more things to confuse and confound her.
I don't need this.
And she definitely hadn't needed it when first opening the TIE's ground hatch to access its mechanical parts. As she'd stood there shaking her head at the nightmare inside, it had felt like there was someone right behind her, watching her, observing her every move, leaving her with a horrible sensation she couldn't name, and she didn't need this right now. Even if that sensation was the driving force for her to get the TIE back into working order—because she was going to fix it, even if she had no idea of whom or what she was standing in defiance of, mark her words she would prove them wrong—she really wasn't in need of more troubling thoughts to motivate her!
Unfortunately, the ship wasn't exactly helping with those and judging by the sudden sequence of loud warnings coming from the log, her efforts at fixing it had been about as successful as distracting herself from everything else.
The cooling system is back up at least, she noted, running her eyes towards the few green lights . That was something. And the radio is working.
All the things that relied on the power supply from the right wing, however, weren't.
"Great," Rey mumbled, feeling for a screwdriver on her belt and leaning over the maintenance screen to screw the support tighter. "Just great."
Back to square one. Again.
She turned her back on the pilot's chair, going up the rope dangling from the TIE's upper access hatch and stepping again onto the connection arm. As much as she had wished for a distraction, a challenge to keep her mind occupied, by now this was proving little more than an exercise in frustration, and the very thing she was trying to keep her mind off of was sneaking its way back in the longer she kept hitting the same problems.
Things weren't supposed to be like this!
Rey kicked a small piece of broken fuselage away from her, eyes widening as she watched it fall into the chasm under the TIE, hit the metal railing running under the ship and then, rather than fall down the launching ramp and into the sky, jump inside the toolbox she had left open there. In about a second, there were tools flying everywhere.
"Five points?"
Rey almost screamed. The part of her that hadn't instantly died from embarrassment turned towards the masked man now standing at the border between light and darkness, words falling out of her mouth before she could do anything to stop them.
"You heard that?"
And now the tattered remnants of her dignity were gone too.
Bloody brilliant question, Rey. Would you like to try again for maximum damage to your pride?
She crossed her arms, observing as Kylo Ren stepped into the light, clothes beaten by the wind.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped.
"I'm not the one who should be asked that," he pointed out quietly, attention going over the TIE, something in his voice, something within the Force, that was equal parts hopeful and cautious, rising with his words as he glanced at her. "What are you—?"
Rey didn't wait for him to finish before jumping from the TIE, feet safely hitting the metal bridge Ren was standing on as she landed. It was a gesture she had repeated to the point of becoming second nature by now and yet, for some strange reason, the instant she jumped she felt her heart sinking, fear and then relief washing over her the instant she was on the ground, staring angrily at the darkness hiding his eyes.
"What does it look like?"
"Other than unsafe?"
If looks could kill he would be well on his way to his grave. Seeing as the Force apparently refused to work like that, Rey instead ignored him and walked towards the toolbox to start tossing the tools back inside.
"What happened?"
Rey clenched her hands over the lid, letting the material bite into her hands as she fought to remain silent, to not look anywhere near his eyes.
It was an exercise in futility from the start.
"I got hit."
"That is obvious."
"While trying to land at the barracks."
Knowing that was the reason would probably make him happy.
"Hardly," Ren replied, looking up and studying the damage to the TIE, an almost inaudible whisper of "damage to the port side convertor coils and phase one reactor" coming from under the mask before he again turned to her, sounding disturbed. "How did this happen?"
Rey took a deep breath, a silent chant of "ignore him, ignore him, ignore him" echoing inside her mind as she continued putting the tools in the box, pushing the answer to that question out of her mind and as far away from his as she could. He had nothing to do with that. She didn't own him any type of answers and—
Rey blinked. Ren was leaning over the toolbox, offering her a very professional looking black display with the Order's symbol right in the center of it. Her answer was out before she even had time to think about it.
"No."
"You might want to take your refusal to Hux," Ren said, sounding amused but still offering her the display. "Also, if it isn't too much trouble, do inform me before you do it. That would be one of those once in a lifetime opportunities I wouldn't want to miss."
Rey closed her eyes in exasperation. Was anyone–anyone— able to talk to him for more than a few seconds without wanting to throw him at a wall ? She herself was this close to taking a page out of the General's book and saying whatever came to her mind where Ren was concerned.
"He would be proud."
"Stop doing that," she snapped, snatching the display out of his hand if just for the sake of shutting him up. Her eyes fell on something she recognized, at least: coordinates, routes, and what looked a lot like an inventory. She had a very good idea of what this was just by glancing at it. "The answer is most definitely still no."
"Hux. This was hardly my idea."
Rey glanced at him, expression deathly serious.
"I can tell," she replied, putting the display on the floor next to the toolbox, something in the group of coordinates making her study it with more attention, focusing on the destination as shown on the city map. "Are those the barracks?"
That same instant, Ren's clear amusement with her initial answer vanished, attention turning from the TIE to her.
"Is this still about—?"
Rey looked up, anger bubbling to the surface.
"Finn," she snarled in a low voice, interrupting him before he could say that identification number he kept insisting on using. "His name is Finn."
In her fury, she threw a screwdriver inside the toolbox so roughly that it flew back out. It never hit the ground, though. Instead, the Force curled around it, sending it flying directly into Ren's gloved hand. For some strange reason, she was sure he was chewing on his lips as he stopped on the other side of the toolbox and offered it to her.
"I don't need help."
He crouched all the same, putting it inside the toolbox, head rising so that the dark visor met her eyes. Despite that same dark feeling from before shrouding him like a cloak, his tone was unmistakably gentle.
"It is about him."
If she had to chose what she hated most about him, it would always be how kind he could sound.
"Have you satisfied yourself about his safety?" Ren queried, fingers tapping on the toolbox. Rey didn't answer; not that it mattered, he was getting his answers all the same. "You saw him," he murmured, eyes still on hers. "Can you sense him now?"
This again.
Expression hardening, Rey looked straight into the dark visor, certain for some reason she was staring straight at his eyes even if she couldn't see them.
"What does it matter to you?"
Ren tilted his head, looking thoughtful.
"Your friend did quite a good job keeping the barracks under the Order's control," he informed her. "Phasma has requested he be placed under her command. She is not easily impressed. You should be proud."
She was not proud; she was livid.
"You left him with her?"
Rey was on her feet instantly, stepping away from him, looking up and down the hive-like structure of the dock, struggling with a sudden wave of panic that was screaming at her to get to the barracks, to get to Finn now!
"For one who calls him friend, you have an appalling lack of faith in him."
Faith? This was not about—Rey turned on her heels, advancing on Ren as he too got to his feet. The part of her mind that was still hard wired to Jakku, to simple survival, taking notice of the lightsaber strapped to his leg—not the best choice if he wanted to use it—and the careful, somewhat unbalanced way he rose before stopping right in front of him.
"He will get caught," she pointed out in a low voice. "You may not care about anyone but yourself but—"
"What do you know about FN-2187?"
"Stop calling him that."
Ren tilted his head, gazing into her eyes.
"The stormtrooper who refused to fight," he muttered, raising his hand towards one of the tools now floating around them and catching it mid-flight—which of them had sent the tools flying into the air?—before breaking eye contact. His voice had lost all gentleness. It sounded harsh. It sounded—
"He certainly knows how to romanticize treason."
Angry.
Only, the feeling in itself wasn't anger. She knew anger, both her own and his, and this—she didn't know this feeling. Though, frankly, she didn't care to. She was having none of whatever had brought on his current tantrum.
"He told the truth," she retorted, and even if that hadn't been exactly the case from the beginning, it mattered little now. "And he was doing what was right."
That hadn't come out the way she wanted it to, but she stood by her words even as Ren turned to look at her, a sigh—what would actually have sounded a lot like a chuckle if it wasn't for its heaviness—coming from under the mask.
It infuriated her to no end, him treating her like a stupid child.
"If you want to say something, say it."
Like he needed to be prompted to do so. In fact, it surprised Rey a lot more that he wasn't doing so already and instead standing still, attention on the TIE, clothes softly flapping in the wind.
"I've lost count of the times I have heard those exact words," he finally confided, voice tired, his next words answering a question she hadn't voiced. "Your Master's Jedi. The New Republic. The First Order. The Resistance. Everyone talks of right and forgets to say for whom."
Rey blinked, stunned. That was not what she had been expecting. She had been prepared to hear him have a go at Finn and to rip right through him for that. This—it didn't even sound like him. And the answer to that question—because there was a question in his words, though she didn't know if he was asking himself or her—was one she could answer confidently.
"For the galaxy."
His shoulders slumped.
"That was their answer too," Ren murmured. "And yet, they all meant different things by it. None of their truths coincide."
He stopped at that, shaking his head, fists clenching as he did so. He looked troubled. He looked…
Lost.
Rey was studying him now. A strange sensation that she didn't know him overcame her. A sense that, as senseless as it sounded, this was not Kylo Ren was wrapping itself around her as he stared at the sky under the dock, having seemingly forgotten her presence, and at the precise moment the silence broke, crushed by a shout, a plea, a name.
"Ben."
A shiver ran through him, but it wasn't until Rey spoke, her request lacking even the slightest bit of hostility, that he recoiled, stepping away from her, trying to take refuge in the shadows.
"Take off that mask."
Time seemed to stand still, dragging itself around them as they stood face to face and the voice she could have sworn had risen side by side with her words disappeared.
This was not as it had been on Starkiller, that lightning fast, confident reaction. Instead, she found him hesitating, searching her eyes as the darkness behind him swelled, creeping ever nearer, looking almost as if someone was within it. Watching. Waiting.
Then, finally, the gloved hands rose to the helmet, touching its sides, and it opened. Before he could pull it off, his body tensed, head snapping to the right and letting go of the helmet as though it had burned him. Ren closed the distance between them and reached forward to grasp the fabric of her hood. He pulled it over her head, fingers holding one of the sides so that her face was hidden. It was a question of seconds and, before Rey knew it, a group she hadn't heard approach was stopping just a few meters away from them. Stormtroopers. She could see little more than their white leg protections from her present position, but there was no doubt about that. Nor, she might add, about the identity of the man behind the very cautious and somewhat confused question that followed:
"Is this a bad time?"
"Far from it, Governor. Your timing is impeccable."
Ren sounded like he wanted to murder someone. Actually, that made two of them. She too wanted to murder someone. The difference was who.
"What is this about?"
"Your Captain has sent a stormtrooper battalion to bolster the battalion presently under your command," Lando Calrissian's informed them. "I took it upon myself to—"
"Make sure they didn't get lost? I'm touched."
Rey, on the other hand, was boiling.
She was centimeters—centimeters! —from his chest! She was so close she could smell him. She had but to glance up to see several scorch marks on his clothes and his black hair peeking from under his helmet. She could hear both his actual voice and the one coming from the distorter at the same time.
"The supplies?"
Had he no concept of personal space? Of propriety? Of how this looked to observers? The only time she had been closer to him than this had been in Takodana's forest and Force knew what the hell had possessed him, then or now!
"The supplies are still being routed here, Sir. Also, the mess hall closed several hours ago."
Rey's stomach twisted at those words, her considerations about kicking him if he didn't let go of her hood this very moment forgotten. As if noticing her change in demeanor, Kylo Ren's attention went from the soldiers to her.
"You haven't eaten."
"Not hungry."
"In almost two days."
This was going too far.
"Stop. Reading. My mind."
"Shall I go further and refrain from listening to your stomach?"
And now she was thinking of kicking him again.
He turned to the soldiers.
"Send something up."
What?!
His fingers let go of her hood as the soldiers left, right hand going for something on his belt and passing so close to his lightsaber that even though she felt no aggression coming from him, Rey was going for her own. It never reached it. Instead, she was left staring at her own hands and the item wrapped in black and emblazoned with the Order's logo that he had put in them. Portions. These were portions. They didn't look remotely like the ones from Jakku but…
Her expression darkened, a very sinister hypothesis going through her mind as she studied the wrapping. These sorts of things happened on Jakku—something like kindness, like a friendly gesture of goodwill, but if one didn't take the proper precautions one ended up dead. Or worse.
"It isn't poisoned," Ren sighed, breaking the stream of her thoughts as he moved after Calrissian, who had remained after the soldiers left. "I'm under the impression this is not a social call."
"I fear it isn't. Your other Knight, Nephys, sent me."
Rey almost dropped the food, hurrying towards Calrissian, listening as he kept talking.
"There have been some developments in your absence he wishes you to be informed of."
Notes:
Next up - The Enforcer
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