The Art of Broken Pieces

Lunch has a Nap, Spoon Patrols

By the time the gentle curve of Karonos slowly drew into view out the small port window of Ben's berth he felt considerably more like himself again. At some point he had felt Rey move to her own quarters, and though they had not spoken much in the intervening hours, the reassuring comfort of her presence had never left his side.

Sleeping had been difficult, but eventually Ben had found something vaguely resembling comfort on his back, long legs propped halfway up the bunk's far wall. He cursed short engineers everywhere.

Rey slid into place beside him on the unloading deck, and he glanced down at her with a slight nod, reassuring her that he was alright. Despite the fact that if all went well, there would be very little fighting involved in the execution of their plan, Ben still felt the thread of adrenaline that always kept him focused during battle. They were finally moving, doing something again. It had been too long.

It wasn't hard to find a speeder dealer with inner-atmo shuttles to rent, Karonos had a decently bustling ore trade which had grown out of the ruins of the Imperial fabrication industry, and plenty of offworlder shareholders and investors occasionally came by to check out the status of their investments. Loading their things on board, Ben quickly wired the First Order IFF into the communications array as Rey got them in the air and plotted their course.

Closing the panel and wiping his hands on his pants, Ben leaned on the back of the co-pilot's seat, looking down at her. "That should do it. Any First Order security we run across will read us as friendlies."

Ever since breaking atmosphere on Karonos, Rey had felt the tingle of uncertainty. Most of it, she was sure, had to do with the fact that Ben was once again swathed in black. He'd taken back his black shirt, strapping on the ribbed sleeves and heavy black tabard she'd come to recognize as the Knights of Ren's answer to Jedi robes. It had been a strange thing to watch, but she'd needed to see the pieces go on. She'd needed to watch Ben don the raiments of his past boot, belt, and glove, and feel him remain unchanged.

Now, looking at him leaning against the seat beside her, his heavy lightsaber clipped at his side, he was startling. The scar she'd given him stood out stark against his skin, only now it felt less like a badge of her courage and more like the first--and most visible--mark of how she'd changed him.

She forced herself to accept him this way, accept the way the sight of him like this made her feel. She had to do that for him.

Rey took them east, over the rocky buttes and warped, scraggly trees fighting for survival in soil long stripped of nutrients. Finally, the first towers of the First Order manufacturing facility jutted above the rocks in metallic points, forming the curving arc around what the schematics had shown as a shipping arena.

Her comm lit up, and Rey ticked the switch.

"Ground class shuttle, this is Okovos Facility Alpha, please identify."

Ben was aware of her answering, offering up the call sign that verified the identification signal their transmitter would have sent as they entered the First Order security field. But his mind was elsewhere, caught up in the complicated reconstruction of Kylo Ren. Donning once again the physical reminders of who he was, Ben felt deeper subtler things follow suite, tendencies that he hadn't noticed disappearing over his months with Rey. A proud set to his shoulders, a controlled restlessness, a disinterest in things that did not serve his purpose. He looked down at his gloved hands, frowning. Everything still fit so well, yet not at all.

He watched the base drawing nearer, gaze scanning their defenses. The western end of the complex was still shattered and scarred by the barrage that had cracked it open during the war, but the main construction zone seemed to be fully operational. Lifts that seemed tiny at this distance rose and lowered into the earth, bearing loads of material and finished parts from the workshops below up into the assembly zone. The skeletons and unfinished forms of old ships could be seen in various states of disassembly, no doubt being re-purposed for parts.