Rey tried to keep her focus on the Portmaster, not the porg lounging in the crook of the man's arm, as she brought their account current and informed him both the Betrayal and the Mynok (as they were calling the Falcon) would be staying an extra day or so. The Portmaster was smartly-dressed and stately, with white hair and dark eyebrows that almost matched the porg tucked in his arm. He seemed studiously unconcerned at Rey's lack of footwear.
"Why does everyone seem to have adopted one of those things," she gestured at the porg.
"Oh, they're everywhere," the man said. "Came in on one ship or another and just started imprinting on the locals, following us around. Lucky they're cute, and they actually appear to eat carbon buildup and calcium deposits, so I don't mind them around. This little fellow has been cleaning my pre-Clone Wars era pod-racer."
Eyebrows lifting, Rey stared at the little porg, who stared back, its black eyes unfathomable. It could have the wisdom of ages from Ach-To stuck behind those eyes. Or it could be dumb as a brick. She thanked the Portmaster and headed back toward the Falcon.
Just seeing the ship made her feel steadier. The concerned trills of porgs and echoing strings of droidish beeping trickled down the hatch, and Rey climbed gratefully aboard. Most of the porgs were clustered in one corner, preening nervously. But a single Porg lay on the lounge bunk like a fat, feathery pillow.
"Hello, Lunch," she said, stroking down his tummy with a finger. The porg cracked one eye, trilled a lazy greeting, and shifted unsteadily onto its feet. It looked at her, blinked slowly, and gave a second grunting trill. "You're not pregnant are you? I don't even know if you're male or female or...neither. Both?" Lunch insisted on mystery, and began attempting to preen beneath one wing. He didn't seem to be capable of reaching.
Rey headed for her bunk, gratefully donning trousers, her blaster belt, and boots. She kept Ben's shirt. It was good, sturdy fabric and warm enough for the chill of space. If he wasn't going to use it anymore, she could repurpose it. Scraping her hair into a queue, she reached for the lightsaber on her drawer and clipped it on.
"Now I feel right," she said. Sturdy boots on the floor. A familiar ship around her. Blaster at her hip. Lightsaber balanced on the other. Yes. This was who she was, and it felt good to be back in her own skin. With a quick stretch of her arms, she walked off to find Ben and check in with Finn on the progress of their grab team.
The dress box containing the pale gown had been brought to the Betrayal the evening before the masquerade, and though Ben had no idea what to do with it or if he was ever going to give it to her, he transferred it and stashed it under one of the bunks in the sleeping pod Rey was not using. It didn't make sense to take up residence in the gun well again anyway, so this was as good a place as any to hide the blasted thing. Stuffing the few things he had brought over from the Betrayal on top of it, he stood and went to meet up with Rey in the main lounge.
It was good to see her looking so much like herself again. She looked comfortable, confident, and Ben's chest tightened slightly when he realized she was still wearing his shirt. It made him feel as though the progress they had made was not quite as distant as it seemed.
Sliding onto the couch beside her he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to finish up her communication. The spoon wielding porg reappeared, hopping up onto the other seat and climbing onto the fat porg that lounged there. Little weapon still clutched in its mouth, it settled down into the downy fur of the large porg's stomach and curled up to nap.
As Rey closed the channel he glanced at her, testing her mood. "I was thinking it's time to find out what the bastard knows." He said quietly. "Do you want to be involved? I think I can handle him myself without killing him, if you'd prefer."
"I want to be involved," she said. She'd questioned enough people to know the process generally didn't come to actual torture. At least, it never had for the Resistance. She'd intimidated a few people, or seen others do so, but the worst they'd ever done—at least in front of her—was punch an ex-First Order officer. Though she thought that might have had more to do with Finn's personal grudges than any real attempt to extract information.
She wasn't so certain Ben was used to those tactics, and much as she despised the man currently residing in the smuggling compartments, the idea of hearing him scream and beg made her feel a little disgusted.
Her comm beeped.
>>You have pictures of you in that dress?
Rey rolled her eyes.
<<Finn. The transport times?
>>Not even ONE picture?
>>Fine.
>>06:00, CT. Last check in, they were three Parsecs away.
>>Thanks
<<Seriously, though. Rose and I want pictures next time.
She closed her comm link and crossed her legs, pulling her lightsaber up and setting it on the holo table. She glanced at Lunch, and the spoon-wielding runt now nesting on his tubby middle. How much carbon buildup did a porg have to eat to get that massive?
*****
It really wasn't hard to get answers from the battered and frightened Chamberlain. Ben found he really had to do little more than cross his arms and growl threateningly before the groveling man was spilling out everything he knew about the First Order remnants to whom he was funneling money. Interestingly enough, Ben realized that the man actually still considered him to be Supreme Leader, and assumed that Ben was more angry about his having mistakenly supporting the wrong branch of the First Order than anything else. Willing enough to play on Octavius' insecurities, Ben questioned him at length about Hux's operations, and though the Chamberlain knew less than Ben would have liked, it at least gave them a place to start.
Rey thought to ask the questions that Ben would have missed, bringing up small details that could have been lost in Ben's desperation to find targets to crush.
When they were done with him, Ben secured him once again in the smuggling hatch and stood slowly, looking over at Rey with satisfaction. "Finally... more to go on than stumbling across communications. I'll make a star map of the locations he gave us, and we can figure out where we'd like to start."
Rey nodded. "Finn said the grab-team is only a few Parsecs away." She chewed on her lip a moment and lifted her brows. "Maybe you should stay out of sight while I make the transfer."
Ben nodded, reaching out and laying a hand on her arm lightly. He squeezed softly, then let his fingers fall away as he left her there. He resisted the need to reach out to her with the Force, to feel the distance between them close again. She was guarded, as he had once been, and if it was time she needed, he would give it to her.
The grab team pinged her a few hours later, when Rey was shoulder deep in a thermal migrator vent. She extracted herself carefully, shuffled aside the three curious porgs that had gathered around her ankles, and closed the paneling.
She opened Octavius's smuggling compartment and jerked her chin, pleased when he sulkily obeyed her silent order. The stun-cuffs she'd clapped on him were still secure, and she snagged his arm, frog marching him to the hatch.
As it lowered, Rey grinned to see a familiar face. Vara, the fawn-skinned Resistance pilot with a pile of dense black hair stood before her in the cobalt blue flightsuit of the Alliance Navy. A captain's insignia gleamed from her breast, and her hair was braided around her head like a halo, suggesting she'd recently been wearing a flight helmet.
Her knife-sharp grin flared as she saw Rey who, covered in grease and sweaty from work, was feeling a million times more like herself.
"Jedi-girl!" Vara called.
"Smoke!" Rey greeted back, using the girl's Resistance pilot callsign. It was a running joke from their first few days after meeting, when neither of them could remember each other's names and had been mutually too embarrassed to ask.
"I hear you brought me a present," Vara said. She clicked a small remote in her hand, and the coffin-sized transport compartment started up the cargo ramp.
Rey pushed the Chamberlain forward.
"Say hello to Chamberlain Octavius," she said. "Once he got his hand off my ass, he started cooperating."
Vara lifted her eyebrows and released the vacuum seal on the compartment. She addressed Octavius and, conspiratorially, whispered, "You are not going to like what happens when the Senate Leader reads that report."
"Or Chewie," Rey said. Vara smirked and squinted at Octavius, her dark eyes gleaming.
"Sure you don't want to just fall asleep and never wake up? I can arrange it. I can even destroy the evidence." She made an explosive gesture, accompanying it with an appropriate noise.
Octavius's lip curled. "The Supreme Leader will realize he has need of me," he growled. "He will crush your little rebel-"
Vara slapped him. His face whipped sideways, then turned slowly back to her, eyes wide and stunned. Vara lifted an eyebrow. "Get in the box."
Rey gave him a nudge, but though Octavius shot them both furious looks, he clambered into the transport.
The second Vara slammed the lid, she turned to Rey and tossed her arms around her. "Hey, beautiful!" she squealed. "I missed you when you came home! How come you didn't say? Poe said you left less than a day after you got there."
Rey hugged her back. "It's a long story. I'll tell you over comms some time."
"Or when you get back," Vara said, hitting a few buttons to seal the transport. When Rey said nothing, her eyes flashed back up. She was small—roughly Leia's height, but with a compact set of lithe curve and muscle that—in combination with her small arsenal of blasters—made her nonetheless intimidating.
"Which you are doing," Vara said, as if preemptive disagreement. "You're coming back. You're not floating around the galaxy with the former Supreme Leader on a leash, blowing up First Order bases forever. You'll run out of them eventually."
Rey swallowed. She hadn't really thought about it.
"You've got to come home," Vara said. "And Kylo Ren? Ben Solo, or whatever he's going by these days? He has to face trial."
"I know," Rey said. "I know. But I can't...he's not the person he was."
The other woman's face darkened. She looked at her datapad and frowned, seeming to measure her words. "Maybe not. Doesn't un-kill all those people, though, him changing," Vara said. "Won't bring back my dad. Or how ever many hundreds more died because of him." She looked up, gaze fixing squarely on Rey. "Taking out the rest of the First Order—that helps. But it's not going to make what he did go away. He's got to stand for it. He's got to prove he's changed by being willing to face that."
Rey closed her eyes and swallowed, fear fluttering in her gut. She felt protective. She wanted to keep Ben as far from the Alliance as possible. But there was a ring of truth to what Vara said.
The girls hugged goodbye and, with a wave, Vara vanished to her transport, and Rey strode back to the lounge and sat, her head suddenly full of new worries.