Falling Stars

1. Spare Parts ⚙️

And I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things.
-George R.R. Martin

*****

Rey was good at fixing things - finding the value in damaged and rusty parts that others would overlook as junk. After all, she'd made her survival out of it, making the best of a bad situation - pragmatism.

When her path intersected with the tides of fate, she was hesitant to leave what familiarity she knew. The dusty outpost in Nima might not have been home but it was all she'd ever known, or all she could remember at least, and she'd resigned herself to the fact that things would probably stay that way. But fate doesn't often allow the chance for negotiation, and when she had been drawn to the lightsaber down in Maz Kanata's cellar and experienced what she now knew to be a powerful force vision, it became clear that what laid in the past would remain there. The family she waited for so long to return really weren't coming back. All that was left was the future, and the resistance had become her adopted family now. And besides, now that she knew she was force-sensitive, a whole new galaxy of possibilities and opportunities would open itself up.

At least that was what she'd believed until coming face to face with the known universe's last living Jedi. Grizzled from hard living and embittered by lost hopes, Luke Skywalker had spent years of solitude on Ahch To, a broken man in so many regards. Maybe the damage done by the past would never be fixed.

And besides, what had she expected to find? She wasn't quite sure, but she was stunned when he'd taken the old lightsaber she'd offered him and simply tossed it over the cliffs and into the ocean (for an irrational few seconds she considered leaping after it). He was definitely pissed off about the fact his self-imposed isolation had been broken, not even bothering to ask how she'd managed to find him. He refused to train her outright. Only when he realized he couldn't exactly force her to leave would he even respond to her pestering questions.

"You're wasting your time, kid. The Jedi Order is long gone."

"I'm not trying to resurrect it - I only want to understand how to use this gift. You're the only one left who can teach me."

He scoffed. "It's not a gift, it's a curse." Luke gazed pensively out over the rocky cliffs, and a moment passed in silence. Finally he sighed. "You want me to teach you about the Force? Fine. But first let's get a few things straight. I am not your master, you're not my padawan, or apprentice, or any of that crap. And you're gonna earn your keep. You're gonna gather your own food, mend your own clothing, fix up your own hut. If I give you a task to do, you're gonna do it and keep your mouth shut and don't even think about complaining. You hear me?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"And I don't want any questions about 'the good old days,' you understand? I'm not here to confirm or deny any stories or rumors you might have heard. You're gonna leave the past in the past."

"Understood," she said, instinctively controlling the urge to be verbose.

"Where are you from?"

"Nowhere."

"No one's from nowhere."

"Jakku."

"Okay, that's basically nowhere."

*****

"You're not alone."

"Neither are you."

Rey was an excellent mechanic, to be sure. She could take her speeder apart, clean the engine from top to bottom and have the whole thing  put back together and working in less than two days. The practical functionality and solid curves and angles of machinery felt instinctively right in her hands. It took years and several injuries, but she became intimately familiar with the inner workings of the warship carcasses that provided the economic backbone of Niima outpost. And if you were unfortunate enough to live in Niima you were most likely a scavenger. Or a hermit, or a black market trader, but probably a scavenger.