The Art of Broken Pieces

13 Secret Porgs Spying

The circular senate hall was filled with whispers and soft conversation, tension palpable in the air. The top tiers of the hall held no seats, but rows and rows of projectors took their place, generally filling out ranks of representatives from distant systems slowly joining the New Alliance. Today, those holos were inactive, making the room seem even larger than it usually did.

Poe and the other heads of senate had done their best to keep the news of Kylo Ren's capture as quiet as possible, there was no need to make a public spectacle of it. This was a war trial, and one that meant far too much to all of them to want to blast it across the galaxy. The Supreme Leader's fate would not be decided by the masses, by the clamoring many who had only come to the Alliance when it was clear the tides were turning. No, it was left to the core of the senate, those who had served and fought, and those who had supported them and formed the backbone of the new and as-yet fragile government.

Sitting stiffly in his own seat, Poe looked around at those gathering in the hall, twenty, thirty at most. He felt nervous energy emanating from Finn to his left, and the empty seat beyond that continued to draw his attention. Where was she? He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, still turning over his speech in his mind. Or the lack thereof. He still struggled to decide what he needed his words to be. He had never wanted less to have the weight of his position pulling at his shoulders. Life was so much easier from the cockpit of a star fighter, where the rules were simple and the decisions left to those of better rank.

Rey walked carefully up the steps of the temporary senate hall, built into the middle stories of one of the massive Massassi temples. Behind her, C-3PO fussed about how failure to be early constituted lateness on 47 systems, and she sped up to leave his wide golden stare and perpetual harping behind. Rey was more concerned with ripping a hole in the delicate slippers Invigio had included, which were clearly not meant for the aged stone steps of Yavin IV's ancient landmarks.

She reached the senate-level entrance just as the bell calling the trial's representatives to order rang. She stepped inside, at once enveloped by the cool shade of stone, and felt it settle on her shoulders like a mantle.

The dress felt like armor. She'd hated the gaudy, revealing gowns she'd been required to wear on Aurelia, but this one was different—more like the fresh, airy gowns she'd seen on Ben's grandmother in old holos. With simple curls and light application of cosmetics, Rey had still managed to look like herself. Looking in the mirror, she'd wondered what Leia would have thought.

Hopefully, that Rey was ready to do the kind of political battle Leia was so accustomed to.

The guard scanned her at the inner door and waved her into the Senate Leader's box, where she found Poe and Finn in their dress uniforms.

They both stood as she joined them, Finn's face blanking as he stared at her.

"Wow." He shook his head, clearly looking for more elegant words. "I mean, wow."

Poe laughed tightly, stepping forward and giving her a quick hug. "I think he's trying to say you look pretty damn good."

As they all took their seats, Poe glanced sideways at Rey, trying to assess how well she was holding up. When he had last spoken to her over the comm she had been a wreck, panic and misery clear in her voice. He hated that he could not protect her from this.

A slow hush came over the gathered senate as the doors opened to the side of one of the mid-levels. Two armed guards led the way into the small box, transparisteel walls separating it from the rest of the re-purposed room. Behind them, standing tall and brooding came their prisoner. Kylo Ren... Ben Solo. He held himself as though he were in command of the room, as though the guards were escort and he were anything but a prisoner.

Rey stiffened. All of the temporary seams she'd stitched around her emotions threatened to pop as she saw him, tall and imposing, with that long scar down his face. She reached out automatically, filling her senses with him, needing to know he was alright.

They hadn't hurt him, of course, and she probably would have known if they had. Still, it was impossible to convince herself that he was as confident and cold as he looked. No. Inside, he was anything but.

Her fingers dug into the arm of the chair, and she forced her breath to remain steady and slow. She had to be okay for him. She might be his one chance at a positive voice.