#reyskyweek

Rebel pilots wore orange. She knew they did. So her pilot had to wear orange. He wouldn’t be a proper fighter pilot if he wasn’t. And the only place she knew that had orange fabric was -

No. She couldn’t. He’d catch her. Him or one of his goons. 

She had to, though, if she really wanted to make her pilot doll.

And she did. So badly. She needed to make him now, while the image was still there in her mind. Otherwise it might disappear, like Mama and Papa’s faces, and their voices, and the name of the planet she used to live on. 

The shrill whistle that called the scavengers back to the outpost sounded as the sun dipped down over the massive Star Destroyer they’d all been rummaging through. Rey shoved the items she’d found into her pack, tucking the tan fabric she’d ripped off old uniforms and the needle and thread she’d found in a dusty sewing kit away at the bottom, and trekked back in the direction of the village along with the rest of the crew. She made sure, as they marched up toward the trailer, that she was standing directly in front of Leo Eanasis, who was about a week overdue to pick a fight with Unkar Plutt, and who’d been complaining about Plutt cheating him for the past three days.

Rey set her engine parts in front of Unkar Plutt and took the portions he gave her without looking at him, sneaking quietly off to the side as slowly as possible. Sure enough, Leo began yelling almost as soon as Rey reached the back side of the trailer. Two of Unkar Plutt’s minions exited through the back door, and she pivoted around to look like she was heading away from the village before making a mad dash for the door as soon as they were out of sight. She pressed her hand against the door once she was inside, willing it to make as little noise as possible as it slowly slid shut.

Behind her she could still hear Leo and Unkar Plutt arguing, their conversation slowly devolving into a screaming match. She turned around slowly, taking in the room. It was massive, far bigger than she’d have expected, and filled to the brim with piles of junk. As she looked over the stacks, she saw one of the first pieces she’d handed in sitting on top of a pile, as if it had been tossed there as soon as she’d left and never bothered with. She could make out a pile of portions on her right side, rising almost to the ceiling. She’d reached out, grabbed three, and stuffed them into her now-empty pouch before she even thought about it. Most of the rest of the room was filled with scrap metal, Rey realized as she looked around.

At that moment, Unkar Plutt let out a particularly loud roar, and Rey froze, staring at his back. He moved as if he was going to turn around, and she dove behind a pile of engine parts, desperately trying to regulate her breathing so she wouldn’t be heard. As she waited, crouching behind the jumble of junk, she spotted a tiny scrap of orange fabric near the wall, underneath a floor-to-ceiling rack that was completely full of the parts and pieces scavengers brought in. She peeked around the junk pile she sat behind; Leo was still yelling about being cheated out of portions, and Unkar Plutt was still yelling about - well, Rey didn’t listen long enough to find out. She turned back around and reached out, grabbing on the edge of the orange fabric and giving it a light tug.

Screeeech. The rack inched forward with the piece of fabric. Rey froze again, listening, but the sounds of yelling coming from the front of the trailer didn’t stop. She tried pulling on the fabric again, but the rack made its horrible groaning noise again. She leaned in closer to the wall and tried to keep the rack in place as she pulled, but she only succeeded in ripping the fabric. Frustrated, she pulled at the fabric again, harder this time.

Crash!

Something fell from the top shelf, landing behind Rey and clanging, metal against metal, onto the floor. Her heart stopped. This time, Rey heard Unkar Plutt stop mid-word, then mutter “What the hell.” As she heard him start to turn his massive body around, she tugged on the fabric again, as hard as she could. The metal rack screamed its resistance and started to wobble, threatening to fall over. Rey kept the fabric in hand and started running toward the exit, not even looking up to see how much of it had ended up in her hand. As she ran out the back door, she heard more crashing noises, along with another roar from Unkar Plutt. She didn’t stop running, didn’t even dare look back, until she could see the AT-AT she’d made into her little home.

She thought about the night Papa told her that rebel pilots wore bright orange suits as she sewed her pilot together. It had been hot that night, and her window had been open, and she’d been looking out at the stars wondering when she could pilot her own star ship. She’d asked Papa to tell her favorite bedtime story, the one about Luke Skywalker using his Jedi powers to destroy the Death Star. Papa had just gotten to the part about Luke jumping into action, putting on his pilot’s uniform to get ready to make his run, when Rey had realized she didn’t know what the pilot’s uniform looked like. Papa had given her a funny look before telling her that all the rebel pilots wore bright orange jumpsuits. She’d made a face then, because orange was her least favorite color. “But,” she’d said, “if that’s what I have to wear to be a pilot, then I guess I’ll wear orange. Only when I’m flying, though.” And she couldn’t quite remember, but she thought Papa had smiled at her for a moment before he continued the story.