[It's good. She knows it is exactly in the moment. There's no smoke or sparks, for one, but she can feel how the hum in the box component she has changed by a degree under her hands. It's subtle, small, but she knows in her gut that it's right. That she was right. That they're on track. That they all know what they're doing here--

More or less.

She breathes out a noise that isn't a laugh for the droid's sense of humor, but is close - her mouth going all pinched and crooked, smile lost somewhere out of habit and recent low spirits. Rey jams the component back under the wiring, secures it, and then flips the panel closed.]

It's good. Between this and clearing out all the junk Plutt stuffed in, there shouldn't be any trouble staying inside hyperspace for as long as necessary. Right, BB-8?