“Elara pressed her lips to hold her smile; it had been so long since she had traveled on board a freighter or made a trade run… and a familiar, exciting feeling came back to tickle her. Like Litti told her back in the days; once a spacer, always a spacer…”
Word Count:27k Pairing:None Rating:General Summary: POV Din+OC+The Child— When you reach Tython, Tython reaches you too… Warnings:…more ✨Space Travel , angst, thriller style, hallucinations, childhood traumas…
A/N: This chapter takes right after the end of previous one, after the emergency exit of hyperspace. This chapter is more angsty than all the others but I hope you’ll like it too. Also, this chapter is the last of Part One. And I’m really hoping you’re enjoying the story so far. Part Two is in the work. (I already have a few illustrations ready for it, even! )
BONUS: I offer a drawing to those who guess who’s the guest ‘appearance’ in the last scene! (No joke, I’m really offering.)
— The Jedi Planet
Krrsssh-trshhhk !
The control panel of the cabin door, forcefully opened, spat a bunch of yellow and white sparks at Din’s visor, rivaling with the light from his helmet spot lamp. The power surge had damaged a few components that apparently were still receiving enough power from the auxiliary source to add to the challenge of opening the cabin door.
With a grunt, Din pried open the door by hand again. It creaked, like a balky dewback, but finally slid open a little, enough for Din to see that the whole ship had gone dark. Not that he expected otherwise…
“Ela!” He called again in his helmet’s comlink and through gritted teeth — it couldn’t be a good sign that she didn’t pick up. “Do you copy?! Anton!”
She was with him when he had left the galley, so maybe he could answer for her! With these thoughts in mind, Din didn’t lessen his effort to open the door, which creaked again without opening more than a few centimeters — something must have jammed it. Din jumped to his feet and tried to squeeze himself through the narrow space he had already managed to open; his armor pieces scraped against the frame and thickness of the door, but with a little extra push and no grace, he managed to extract himself out of the cabin with just a few painful grunts. Din almost stumbled as he stepped out of the doorway but he caught himself with both hands on the edge of the door.
Finally free, he wasted no more time and walked up the circular hallway to the galley and lounge by the light of his lamp.
“Ela!” He called again, raising his voice as much for the comlink as to be heard in the hallway. “Anyone?!”
One of the lights in the corridor crackled as he walked by, in a vain attempt to restart, but it went out shortly after. The ship wasn’t as large as the Bold Sister or the Long Storm, and all the amenities were not so far apart, so Din soon reached the galley side. He avoided a tray and two metal bowls on the floor as the beam of his spotlamp revealed Anton’s collapsed form. A small, nervous but familiar squeak made him turn his head to the left where he found Elara, and the child was holding the thumb of her hand stretched out to him. He blinked his large eyes against the lamp light, his ears low and with another sad sound.
Din got down on one knee to feel his little head and ears; he didn’t look hurt, just scared. Then he turned to Elara, pushing her hair away from her face. He rolled her on her back, holding her head carefully.
“Ela, can you hear me?”
He put her head down, and when he touched her cheek, his glove left the bloody imprint of his fingers on her
skin. Din gritted his teeth and checked the palm of his glove by the light of his lamp. In response, the child gave a long, anxious whimper.
“It’s okay, kid,” Din whispered, without turning to him and searching for Elara’s pulse on her neck. “She's… just unconscious.”
And he could feel it under his fingers, even through the thickness of his glove. Reassured, he turned to Anton; a large bloody gash ran across his forehead into his hair, but his pulse was strong too. Elara groaned and wiggled weakly on the floor.
Krrsssh-trshhhk!Sparks in the galley behind them splashed the dark for a spell, and Din shifted his focus back to Elara, changing knees.
“Hey, easy… You knocked your head pretty bad.”
Words of support to which she groaned again, trying to bring a limp hand to her forehead without even opening her eyes.
“Wha—what happened?” she mumbled, jaw clenched.
And she rolled awkwardly to the side to try to stand up. Din supported her with firm hands.
“I think the ship made an emergency exit out of hyperspace.”
“Why?!”
Of that, Din hadn’t the faintest. Elara laid a trembling hand on his left pauldron on which she clenched her fingers, tensing all her muscles in an attempt to get up.
“C'mon.” Din encouraged her, holding her by her arm and with a supporting hand behind her head. “Can you stand?”
“I’ll have to…”
Din winced a smile as he helped her to her feet. She staggered into his arms, shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of his spot lamp and her focus turned to Anton.
“Is he alright?”
“I think so,” Din confirmed. “A few cuts and bruises for what I see.”
In response, Elara let out a weak, creaky groan, clasping her fingers tightly on his pauldron.
“We have to carry him to the medbay…”
“Ela, you—”
“We can’t leave him here!”
Getting upset, panicking, made her lurch again and Din held her tight. He had no intention of leaving the gunner in the hallway; he just hadn’t planned to involve Elara in this effort. Yet he didn’t frustrate her resolve.
“Tell you what,” he said to bring her focus back on him. “I’ll lift him up, and you grab his legs.”
She nodded with a painful frown, her hand, raised so far as a visor, found her bleeding wound at the back of her head. He walked her over to Anton’s motionless form and turned him on his back to lift him under his arms with a little struggle. Once his weight was secured against his chestplate, Elara took hold of his ankles and secured them at her waist.
“You’ll have to walk, kid,” she mumbled to the child who was watching them quietly, out of their way.
He made a short, high-pitched chirp and took a few short steps after them towards the medbay, not far from the galley and lounge. The room was dark and some tools and equipment had been tossed around, but nothing that would trip them up. And, with less trouble than Din had first feared, they hoisted Anton onto one of the beds. He was finally waking up, judging by his low grunts and the nervous twitching of his fingers. Elara examined Anton’s wounded forehead by the light of Din’s spot lamp and then he bent down to pick up the child and place him in Elara’s arms.
“I’m going to see how they are in the cockpit, and try to figure out what happened…”
Elara only nodded, still looking a little stunned.
“Ok, I—um… I’m stayin’ here, with Gun.”
Din stroked her arm in a supportive gesture and jogged out of the medbay towards the cockpit.
Space seemed peaceful and there were no planets visible through the circular viewport in the cockpit where TC was hovering around Neal and Ron, panicking that he couldn’t contact any assistance. Neal was completely ignoring the droid as if he couldn’t hear it, but turned towards the hatch when he heard Din’s hurried footsteps and saw the beam of his lamp.
“Oh, Mandalorian, you are alright!” TC noticed, raising his two-coloured arms as he entered. “This is such a relief!”
Din nodded but it was to Neal and Ron that he asked :
“Is everyone okay ?”
Though obviously stunned, Neal also looked in much better shape than Ron, sitting in his chair and leaning forward to keep his head between his knees.
“We’re fine, Mando. Just a little shaken…” Neal patted Ron’s shoulder as a gesture of support and affection. “How are Ela and Gun? And the little one?”
“The kid is fine but we had to carry Anton to the medbay,” Din told him, coming closer. “He was still unconscious when I left Elara with him.”
He glanced around; anything not riveted in the cockpit had been scattered all over the place and the panel beside the open door crackled ominously.
“What happened?” Din then inquiered.
“We’ve been pulled out of hyperspace. Tessy, try to launch the auxiliary power…”
“At once, captain.”
And the droid waddled over to the panel by the door.
“I think we’ve been caught in the Net…”
“The Net?”
Din had the confused feeling that he was supposed to know what Neal was talking about but it seemed to him that some of his ideas had been scattered around in the impact with the cabin wall despite his helmet already being back in place by the time of the ship decelerated.
“The Imperial Hyperspace Security Net,” Neal reminded him as he delved into the pockets of his jacket. “Oomil said we might stumble upon what’s left of it…”
Indeed, Din remembered now. He peered out through the viewport without moving Ron’s chair, who was groaning his discomfort; there was no sign of ships, beacons or starcrafts. Yet, barring a miscalculation that could have catapulted them into the gravitational field of a celestial body, nothing else could cause such an ejection than a technical failure of the ship or the hyperdive. And clearly, it was neither.
Click-click-clack.Behind Din’s back, TC was unsuccessfully trying to redirect some power from the backup systems to the cockpit.
“What could have caused this?”
But Din didn’t get an answer right away; Neal had whiped out a flat comlink from his inside jacket pocket and was trying to call the mechanic:
“Jox, come in!” — click —“Jox?”
“Yeah, yeah! Kinda busy at the moment, captain!”
Neal heaved a sigh of relief but it was Jox’s voice that insisted, on the other end of the comlink:
“What the kriff did Ron do again?!”
But Ron still didn’t seem in any condition to reply; he straightened up a little and glared at Neal who smiled briefly.
“Ron has nothing to do with it. Not this time. I think we’ve been interdicted, but there is no ship outside, nothing. How are things on your side?”
“Sparkly!”Jox retorted through comlink. “Whatever happened, the power system and hyperdrive didn’t take the surge kindly.”
Neal winced a silent word but let Jox continue:
“All in all, t'could have been way worse. The droid and I are already on it…”
“Can we jump, or do we need to switch on the backup hyperdrive?”
“No, no need,” Jox promptly replied. “We’ll just risk to blast the backup too. I’ll just fix what fuses have blown and then, we’re good to go.”
“Ok,” Neal then said. “I leave my link open, keep me updated.”
And upon these words, the power returned to the entire cockpit in a reassuring hum; the indicator lights flashed on the dashboard and a few alerts pierced the near silence.
“Thanks, Jox!” Neal dropped again into the comlink that he pocketed back right after, without even waiting for an answer.
TC became agitated again as he took a step away from the panel and Din switched off his spot lamp to put it back in his utility belt.
“I regret to say that I’m not the cause of this improvment, captain!”
“It’s alright, Tessy.” Neal made his seat swivel to face the dashboard where he turned the warnings off. “Get back to your post, we’re gonna bounce…”
Even Ron regained some of his composure to sit up straight, and face the viewport again. With a few switching of buttons and pushing of throttles, the engines started up again smoothly and the Riser glided slowly through the black of space at Ron’s command as Neal recalculated their course.
“Incoming automated transmission, captain,” TC chimed in again.
“What does it say?”
Click — TC switched the transmission to the speakers of the comms console. A dissonant droid’s voice delivered its message flatly:
“… entered restricted Imperial space. Provide ISB identification number or you will be terminated.”
Right away, TC added :
“Radar indicates several small crafts heading in our direction. Fast, I might add.”
“Let’s not give them time to see our names aren’t on their special guest list,” Neal joked through gritted teeth, focused on his maneuvers. “Ron, prepare the jump!”
“I’m tryin’, but… I think we have a problem.”
“How big a problem?” Neal asked.
On the control panel, Din could see that the ship’s systems indicated that they were in the gravity well of a planet, making a jump impossible. Neal typed on the keyboard in disbelief.
“How?! We aren’t even in a system!”
“Captain!” TC called. “Scanner indicates ten crafts closing in on our position. We will be swarmed in less than two minutes!”
Din gritted his teeth and glanced down the corridor towards the centre of the ship, and its gunwell, through the cockpit’s open door.
“Dank farrik!” tonna Neal. “And Gun is out! Mando, could you—”
But Din was already rushing to the gunwell that he reached in a few more strides. The gunwell was a tiny, narrow room at the center if which stood a single swivel seat facing a twin firing-grip and a transparisteel gunport. Din settled in the seat as the Riser picked up more speed, both feet on the pedals, and connected his helmet to the intra-ship communication system through the wired headset on the backrest, just in time to hear Neal state:
“Hold on tight everyone, it’s gonna be bumpy!”
Through the gunport, Din spotted six of the crafts flying straight at them in an erratic, nervous flight that defied any organic pilot’s ability — those were droid fighters. But even more alarming was where they came from; far enough away to look almost as small as a ship, Din could make out a station with three dome-like bulges at the top, similar to those on Interdictor-class ships.
“I know why we can’t jump!” He shouted over the intra-com, grabbing both grips, fingers ready on the triggers.
“What?!”Neal exclaimed, as the ship swerved on its port wing, out of the fighters’ line of fire — the chair’s suspension dampened the turn, leaving Din’s aim perfectly steady. “What is it?!”
“It’s a gravity well station!” Din revealed, and he gritted his teeth as handling the gun stirred the pain in his left shoulder. “It’s pinning us down, we can’t jump while we’re in its grip…”
Feet on the pedals, Din trained his gun on one of the droids before they were ready to fire while the other four droids TC had counted appeared on his laser scope before being visible through the gunport.
“Can you destroy it?!” Neal inquired.
One of the fighters fired, but the shots missed wide.
“Not with those cannons. It would take a much heavier firep—”
PEW PEW PEW! Din fired at the first of the droids to enter his scope, but missed; the craft rolled over before firing rapidly at the Riser. Soon, the others came into range too. The Riser dived under fire from the other droids and Din grunted against the pain in his shoulder as he straightened the twin-cannons at the closest drones. As soon as he had lined up another, he pressed the triggers.
PEW PEW PEW PEW!
Din only stopped firing when the lasers pierced the droid, sending it hurtling into the path of another — BOOM!Two down in one shot. But the other droids didn’t slow their attacks to lament the destruction of the first two, dodging their debris with nimble moves that held their fire for only a second. It was enough for Din to line them up in his scope. Neal and Ron had increased the speed again and Din could feel his seat vibrating despite the dampers. He braced himself for another evasive action by the pilots when the nearest droids began firing again.
PEW PEW PEW PEW — CRACK!
The droids’ snapshots brushed and hit the Riser in a blaze of sparks that Din saw through the gunport, his full focus on his scope, and the guns on his current target — BOOM!With a well-aimed round, Din blasted the droid. The others fanned out to avoid the debris and rained scarlet fire on the ship as Neal and Ron zigzagged out of their sights. Several shots hit the hull as Din tried to lock onto the droid that posed the most imminent threat.
“Shields won’t hold much more, captain!” Jox’s voice shouted over the intra-com. “We have to jump outta here!”
Din locked a droid in his scope — PEW PEW PEW!
“Doing our best right now!” Neal retorted. “We’re still trapped in the well for another klick! Mando, can you hold up a lil’ longer?!”
But Din was doing his best too. Without answering, he snapshot the droid that was firing at them while shifting his attacking stance; droids were much more difficult opponents in a dogfight, able to move faster, like no other pilots, and now Din was feeling overwhelmed. Still, he held good. And, his hands on the triggers, he caught the same droid again and managed to destroy it in a blast of red laser — BOOM!
And he kept firing at the remaining six droids, resetting his aim with each turn and dive of the Riser until Neal’s voice clamored in their comms:
“Ok, we’re out! Haul jets, now!”
Space and droids stretched in dazzling lines through the gunport, and with a familiar little jolt, the Riser jumped into hyperspace, engulfed by the tunnel of light. Din relaxed his arms, releasing the triggers and letting himself flop against the seat’s backrest.
“WOOHOO!”Ron burst out on the comms. “That was somethin’!”
Relieved but also oddly out of breath, Din let out a chuckle; quite frankly, he was sharing Ron’s enthusiasm, right now.
In Elara’s arms, the child was much more calm now that they were out of danger, and that the ship was no longer shaking them either. When Neal had warned them to hold on, she had strapped a still unconscious Anton to his bed and, with the child clutched to her, she had curled up on the floor next to the bed’s solid base.
The little one had squealed and whimpered with an anguish she had never known him before, even against the cold of Ontellar, which had only seemed to make him a little grumpy. And to tell the truth, she couldn’t get out of her head what they’d read in Crent’s articles and notes, and what he’d told them himself about the powers of the Jedi; perhaps this little one felt more intensely the danger that threatened them out there, and that all the turmoil and fear in the Riser was becoming his own?!
So, despite Neal and Ron’s turbulent flight, despite everything that wasn’t stored in drawers and lockers being tossed around, Elara had tried to keep herself calm, to manage to appease him. At least a little. And he had seemed receptive, even though he had kept his clawed little fingers tightly closed on her collar. And he had only let go when they were back in hyperspace.
With the child sitting on the large headboard equipped with various controls and devices, Elara had then turned her attention to Anton. He had been in and out for the last few minutes and, now that they had jumped into relative safety, she had plenty of time to take care of the gash on his forehead. A little spray of bacta and a patch of sticky gauze had been enough there. She had to scan his wrist too where he was bleeding a little from a cut across an already big bruise. Nothing broken according to the readings, but a nasty sprain that would need some rest in a tight dressing sleeve. Her treatments complete, she turned the switch on the headboard controls to dim the lamp above Anton.
“Hey, Sprinkles…”
Elara smiled.
“Finally awake?” She taunt him, on a tender tone.
He winced a painful smile and brought a heavy hand to his forehead and its bandage.
“How’s the kid?”
And as an answer, the child chirped a soft trill as he leaned over Anton from the top of the headboard.
“He’s fine.” Elara chuckled. “Thanks to you.”
“Hey, lil’ bug…” Anton raised his arms to touch the child’s ears but stopped himself halfway when he noticed the bandage on his wrist. “Oh, I really’ve been through it, hey?”
Elara winced and a sharp pain in the back of her head reminded her that she hadn’t tended to her own injuries yet. With a cautious hand, she felt the crusty blood tugging at her hair.
“How are you, Gun?” Neal’s voice inquired from the open door.
And he entered the medbay, followed by Ron, Jox and Din. Elara lowered her hand to the back of her neck; she would take care of that later.
“I’m good, captain.” He sat up with the help of an elbow and a grunt. “What happened, anyway?”
“We’ve been pulled out of hyperspace by a gravity well station,” Neal simply said.
Anton’s face darkened like before one of his memorable bursts of anger.
“Those karkin’ things are still up and runnin'…” He wasn’t asking, it was an observation. “Any ships nearby?” How did we escape?!“
"Only droid fighters,” Neal said, placatingly. “And Mando took care of them.”
Anton glowered at Din but he had the hint of a smile in his beard and he bobbed his head, approvingly.
“And you took us out of it alive?”
A question to which Din nodded.
“Apparently.”
A moment of tense silence stretched in the medbay and then, without warning, Anton laughed. He raised his injured hand to slap Din’s arm and grunted at the wave of pain the stunt sent through his wrist.
“Good job, Mando.” He rubbed the thick sleeve of gauze “Yeah, good job…”
Elara held back a smile, touched to see them get along.
“I can see why the Big Imps kept talkin’ about takin’ your planet, now.”
“You served in the Imperial Navy?” Din understood.
Anton let out a short, muffled grunt as he shook his head.
His tone was as proud as Elara knew him to be of that fact; serving on this capital ship almost drove him insane. And she heard his voice crack with anger and emotion when he added :
“Some time before the whole Alderaan mess…”
And he glanced at Neal, Elara and the kid, sitting quietly on the headboard touching the buttons within reach. In the general silence, Neal turned to Jox:
“Damage report?”
“A few scratches on the hull, nothing too serious, or that the droid won’t fix as soon as we’d stop somewhere cozy. The power surge has caused quite a stress on the system too, but the droid and I are already on it.”
“What about the hyperdrive?”
“Still a bit cranky but it’ll hold. I’ll fix what need fixing next time we’re out but we’d be smart to go easy on it for the next jumps.”
He grumbled a brief sound, similar to a ronto snort.
“How much more do we have to do?”
“We’re up to three left but, it’s four now, because of this exit,” Ron recapped.
To what Neal added:
“Provided we won’t get pulled out again. Ron, you should get some rest, I’ll manage for a few hours with Tessy.”
In response, Ron jumped off the edge of the second bed of the medbay, landing his feet back on the ground.
“Alright,” dit-il. “Move along, then. And, Gun! Don’t make your wounds worse, this time, ok?”
In response, Anton raised his gauze-clad arm, and after a nod, Neal stepped out of the medbay, following Jox and Ron. Anton sat down on the edge of the bed as if to get off it, but turned to face the child, and flipped the regulator to increase the intensity of the light above the bed. The child looked up at him with big black eyes and a happy squeak.
“Fun, uh?”
Elara glanced at Din as he stood behind her back to examine the wound on her head; she bit her lip to hold back a complaint as he parted strands of hair from her scabs. And his vocoder let out a low, muffled grunt as he reached up to rummage through one of the supply lockers beside the bed. She wondered then if he too had been injured in the deceleration, or if his shoulder was simply still hurting.
“So, Mando…” Anton broke the silence. “How d'you like my rocker?”
“It’s a nice one.”
Anton barked a laugh.
“A nice one?!”
Elara grinned at Din’s visor. She could tell he was smiling too when he added, on a casual tone:
“Yeah.Very comfy.”
Anton laughed some more.
“I know, right?!”
Din put some gauzes on the shelf where Elara had left the torn flimsi wrappers and rested a gloved hand on the back of her head.
“Don’t move.”
But Elara had no intention of doing so. Soon, she felt the cold spray of bacta wetting her hair and wound. She winced at the stinging sensation and the cold drops sliding down her neck.
“This is, by far, the nicest station I’ve ever had the pleasure to slot my exhaust port in… And what about the guns, Mando?!”
Elara snorted at Anton’s excitment but also to know that if Din was feeling comfortable enough, he’d be more than loquacious on the subject of ships and their armament. Behind her, Din stopped the spray and put it on the tray.
“I mean, they’re CEC standard-issue but pretty sharp, right?” Anton went on.
He shrugged as Din patted Elara’s shoulder to signal that he was done with treating her.
“I bet you had to punch those droids a few time before they went down, though ! Those cannons are just big blasters next to the shockers I had to handle on that karking destroyer…”
Anton brushed his beard, looking gloomy but his tone was still rather light as he added:
“With turbolasers like that, you could punch through deflector shields and some pretty heavy defensive layers, like on armored spaceships, y'know?”
Elara watched Din’s reaction but he just nodded.
“It cuts through pirates like, uh… like, um… hmm…”
His voice quavered and he furrowed his thick eyebrows, clearing his throat, and his whole face went white as his mood darkened. And he said nothing more, watching the grey ground beneath their feet. Elara laid a comforting hand on his arm.
“I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin to use that station like you do, brothers!” she said. “I only know how to handle blasters. So, I take your word for it!”
And Din added of his own accord, in that soft, calm voice that Elara knew so well, even though he kept his tone casual:
“They are great guns even for a standard-issue. Very responsive.”
This comment seemed to sweep away the storm in Anton’s mind; he raised his head, his blue eyes still a little reddened, but he smiled.
“Yeah! And I told Neal they could be even better with a few adjustments but Jox won’t let me touch his tools! Can you believe that?!”
Din bobbed his head, neither affirmative nor negative. Anton nodded vigorously and jumped to his feet with confidence, even though he held on tightly to the edge of the bed for a second longer. Then, he put a large hand on Elara’s and turned to the kid; he took him at arm’s length. The kid burst into happy laughters.
“Mind if I take this lil’ guy for a spin?”
He smiled wide at the child who chirped a few quiet sounds, ears up.
“Just to peek at hyperspace through the gunport for a few minutes,” he added. “I’ll even have the headset on, if you need to ring and check on him.”
He glanced at Elara and then Din with an uncertain, almost shy look that she was discovering him.
“Sure, why not,” Din agreed.
And Anton nodded, with a deep breath as he tucked the child comfortably into his big arms.
“You’d like to come visit the ship with me, buddy?”
The child squeaked in joy.
“Take it easy, you two,” Elara told them, tenderly.
“Of course!”
Elara stroked one of the child’s small hands, resting on his bandaged arm. And she stepped aside to let them leave the medbay. Din came and stood beside her.
“Did he tell you what happened to him when he served?”
Elara winced with a brief shrug and crossed her arms.
“Barely. I know a few things, but he never goes in depth. He just says something, and then…”
She gritted her teeth and shared a knowing look with Din who nodded.
“Thanks for the bacta.” She pointed to her head with her thumb. “I already feel better.”
Din nodded again, and she knew he was smiling behind his visor.
The next hours of travel went by without any more emergency exits, just the six others they knew they had to expect. According to Jox, the hyperdrive had groaned a little but took it bravely. Meaning that it would need some maintenance as soon as they’d land. But for now, they finally were on a steady sublight course to Tython.
Around the standard lunchtime, Din and Elara had taken the kid for a snack in the ship’s lounge area. There, Din had settled down with the datapad a little aside, sitting on one of the swivel seats next to the engineering station’s console, whose faint, regular flashes had a soothing effect. He had begun to review all the information they had annotated about Tython while Elara shared a large bowl of Mon Cal food with the child, humming a few songs she had heard and learned from him and the other Mandalorians in the stronghold. She was sorry she couldn’t remember the words, but according to Din, that was for the better; some of them were rather rude.
Ron, Jox and Anton had eventually joined them after a little rest to finally take the time to enjoy a meal, free of the stress of the last few hours. And once his mind was lighter, Ron’s natural talkative and cheerful nature had taken over. And at this point, he had started to boast about his feats at the academy and the trickiest starfighter maneuvres he had learned there.
“And that’s when Tidas and Umaar tried their Gandder’s Spin too, but later my wingman and I went for an Under Split, and they just couldn’t evade that!”
Din had a faint smile; it was indeed a rather complex maneuvre, dangerous even. Especially for the leader. Standing between the table and the console to take advantage of the space to stroll and stretch her legs, Elara asked, curious:
“And what’s an under splitexactly?”
“Ah, blast…” Anton grumbled, with as much humour as genuine annoyance. “Don’t ask him things like that, Elak! He won’t shut up again!”
He reclined against the backrest with a grunt, and taking his cutlery out of his bowl, the leftovers of which he had given to the child. Ron took no offence at all at this comment, smiling broadly, and answered Elara’s question:
“It’s one very dangerous tactical maneuver, one that requires the leader to know and have full control of his craft…”
He paused as Neal came through the cockpit corridor and crossed the lounge to the galley, not saying a word but paying attention. Ron ran a hand over his short curls, one of his legs under the lounge table beating out a relentless rhythm that only he could hear before continuing, using his hands to mimic the flight of two ships:
“You need two crafts for that. Lead man is taking all the heat to act as a bait and while wingman shot away… You have to trust your wingman and his reflexes on this one!”
He made sure Elara was listening, and even Din, before going on, over the sounds of the autochef’s engine from the galley:
“Once your enemy took the bait, you spin and avoid all shots as best you can, and that’s the sweatiest place to hold in that tactic! But then, wingman reverses up hard and takes position behind your attacker…”
He used his hands again, flapping them in place to illustrate.
“Or under, and then — PEW PEW PEW!”
And he used both hands to imitate the blast of an explosion — boom! — before letting them fall flat on the table, almost startling the child, who perked up his ears with a surprised sound. Anton chuckled and placed his injured arm behind the kid, as if to keep him from falling off the edge of the table. Neal was coming back to them with a bowl from which he had already taken a spoonful of its contents, and stopped beside Elara.
“Did that trick a few time, as leader and wingman, and never a drop of sweat! Takes more than that to scare me, in fact…”
“Says the one who’s scared out of his wits by corellian hounds,” Neal taunt him.
“Have you seen those things up close?!”
Anton laughed even more and Neal smiled as he turned to Din and asked, in that same conversational tone:
“What are your plans once we land on Tython? Do you know where you have to go out there exactly? Will we have to do some exploration?”
If there was any exploring to do, and Din thought there would be, he intended to do it on his own.
“I have a few leads.” He tapped the edge of the datapad case with his index finger. “But, if there is need of exploring, I thought of using my jetpack.”
He bobbed his head.
“But I have a limited amount of fuel in it.”
Neal cracked a brief smile.
“A chance that there’s plenty for a few spins in the shuttle over there, then.”
With a nod, he motioned to one of the corridors. And this information made Din raise his eyebrows and straighten up a little in his seat.
“You have a shuttle?”
“Of course!” Neal scoffed. “C'mon. Let me show you.”
He took another spoonful of the content of his bowl before handing it to Ron as he passed by the table. He received it with a hungry cheer and took a generous spoon of it as if it were his own bowl. Din got up and followed Neal and Elara into the corridors after a glance at the kid, perfectly at ease in Ron and Anton’s care.
“It’s the one from the Riser 1,” Neal explained them, as they made their way to the port side. “We barely used it and never as an escape pod, thankfully! So, it was in perfect condition. No need to change it.”
He stopped in front of a wider and thicker hatch than the cabin and cockpit doors. With a press on the side panel, he opened the door on a relatively narrow space at the end of which stood a switched-off piloting station under a viewport similar to that of the gunwell and cockpit, and behind which the black of space slid at the speed of the ship. Added to that, one piloting seat and two other seats on each side of the bulkhead. Not much else, but still much more than any other escape pods. Neal sidestepped to let Din peek inside.
“There’s an honest shielding and quite powerful thrusters, onboard communication and flight control systems, and you can switch in automated landing too without even bothering to be at the controls.”
Din hoped he wouldn’t need this. Neal patted one of his pauldron to invite him to enter with him and, once inside, he slapped an overhead locker with his hand.
“Medpack’s in there, toolbox too and the usual electronic spare parts for the dashboard. Also, a few dry rations.”
Despite all these encouraging features, Din had some concerns to which he gave voice:
“Are you sure there will be enough fuel in it for me to scout a continent?”
He glanced anxiously at Elara, who stood in the shuttle’s entrance. Neal shrugged and thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket with the company logo.
“If you were to make an entry in the planet’s atmosphere, no ! It would burn half of it, if not more. But the Riser will do that for you, so you can disengage in the blue to save fuel, and fly by like with any airspeeder. Not exactly standard issue on a YT, but I like to keep my mobility, you see?”
Din nodded.
“And should you wind up stuck somewhere, we’d come to get you, of course.”
He had a brief laugh, and then asked:
“Sounds good to you, Mando?”
It did. And in fact, it was near perfect, actually! Even though he hoped he wouldn’t need all that. But he had no time to express his gratitude that Ron’s voice shouted from the corridor:
“Hey, captain!”
And almost a second after, he was beside Elara at the shuttle’s entrance.
“Tee says we’re here!”
At these words, Din gritted his teeth and clenched his fists on the datapad.
“Well, Mando, what d'you say we get accointed with your mysterious planet, now?”
Through the viewport loomed the crescent of a large greenish planet, ensnarred in a ring of thick clouds; Crent’s records spoke of two moons but only one was visible at the angle of their arrival. TC was at the controls and Anton turned with the child in his arms as they entered the cockpit.
“Hope you know where you need to go, Mando!” He greeted them with. “'Cause it looks like one big planet!”
Elara glanced at Din who didn’t reply and continued to walk forward, gazing at the planet through the bay as Ron took his place beside TC who informed them:
“The planet matches the navicomputer’s recent additions, but there is no signal from the surface or any spaceport to contact to assure a safe landing, captain.”
“Yeah, guess not.” Neal patted one side of the backrest. “Thank you, Tessy. Now move, I’m taking over.”
“Of course, captain.”
And TC easily pulled himself out of the seat where Neal immediately settled down. He and Ron steered the Riser on a sharper curve towards Tython.
“So, where to, Mando?” He asked.
Elara turned her attention away from the planet to check the notes she and Din had made on the datapad he’d given her on the way out of the shuttle; his priority was one of those nameless temples — or rather, its ruins — nestled deep in a mountain on a continent described as lush and vast. But Elara doubted they should trust these outdated descriptions; Oomil had told them that the place had been classified as barren by the Empire, of more recent memory.
“Go around this continent,” Din requested, with a move of his hand towards the viewport, and the planet through it. “I don’t have geopositional data. All I know is that the place I’m looking for first should be on the northern coast of a large continent…”
“They all look very big, Mando!” Ron bantered.
And Elara rather agreed with him; the two halves of the visible continents on this crescent of planet seemed to extend beyond its daylight curve. The Riser pushed on, closing in on the blue halo that encompassed Tython until they could make out the most prominent landforms, the intensity of the blue of the seas and oceans that bordered the continents and the peaks of some of the mountains that clawed at the clouds.
“The mountains I’m looking for should be near a sea,” Din. told them. “With wide inlets, in the shape of claw marks…”
A moment of silence stretched in the cockpit.
“I’m afraid nothing here seems to fit to your description, Mandalorian,” TC broke the silence.
Din nodded, and the tension in his voice wasn’t lost on Elara when he replied:
“Maybe it’s on the night side right now…”
“We’re going in, and take a closer look,” Neal then said. “Ron, prepare the entry.”
Ron and Neal busied themselves on the dashboard and overhead panel before steering the Riser into Tython’s atmosphere. The entry was smooth and they let the ship continue its course along the planet, sinking into the night speckled with the alarming glow of a volcano and its lava flow freezing in the sea. While the continents were vast, they were not very lush. From what they could see in the night, the place seemed indeed barren and even downright hostile.
“I hope that ain’t the place, Mando,” Anton grumbled.
A remark to which Neal mumbled, careful:
“Actually, this rock doesn’t look inhabited at all…”
“I have a bad feeling about this place,” Ron muttered too.
And quite frankly, so did Elara. She glanced at Din, whose attention hadn’t wavered from the planet and its features through the viewport. His silence seemed to weigh heavier, accompanied by that of everyone in the cockpit — even the child was unusually quiet. The ship continued for several more kilometers until the night became clearer and revealed more of its rugged landscape.
“Here!” Elara exclaimed, and she pointed at the broken coastline to the north of the continent, at the foot of a mountain range that stretched in icy spikes into lands that looked burnt. “Look, the claws!”
“This could be the place,” Neal admitted. “Mando, what do you think?”
His question was initially met with silence, Din’s focus not event shifting from the broken landscape through the viewport.
“We have to find you a safe place to land first,” he finally said in answer.
“But… we can land just here,” Neal replied, puzzled and with a move of one hand towards a ashy plain spiked with burnt-looking trees. “There is a perfec—”
“No.” Din cut him short. “I don’t know what dangers, or defenses to expect around a place like this other than the feral species your cartographer talked about. I’ll go on my own… so if anything happens, you can bail safely out of here.”
Elara let her gaze fall on him, but she wasn’t surprised that he gave her the impression to ignore it. Neal, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to voice his opinion:
“You don’t make all that 'lil trip and place sound very reassuring, so… I’m fine with your strategy.”
Elara drew a sharp breath in, and only then Din tilted his helmet towards her, and she could perfectly picture his eyes casting a sheepish glance at her behind his visor. Yet, neither he nor she said anything.
“The shuttle is yours,” Neal then stated. “Good luck out there, Mando.”
Ron and Neal steered the ship further out of the night towards the barren, rocky plains still bathed in the reddish light of the sunset. Then, Din straightened up and turned to Anton, who raised his thick eyebrows, then frowned.
“Looks like it’s where we say goodbye, lil’ bug,” he said to the child, voice tight.
Elara gritted her teeth and blinked; if Din were to find these Jedi, hidden or not on this unwelcoming planet, then he’d come back without him… The child seemed to understand the meaning of his words, letting out a long squeak as he stooped his ears. Anton cleared his throat to utter:
“You’ll be, um… you’ll be fine with your kind there, I’m sure.”
The child blinked, his little clawed fingers scratching the bandage on Anton’s wrist. He nodded and returned the kid to Din’s arms, adding:
“Yeah, good luck out there…”
Din nodded, settling the child against his chestplate and, after a glance at Elara, he left the cockpit. She leapt after him, her hands clasped at the datapad to keep them from shaking.
“Are you sure there’s anything to find on this rock?” she wondered as she caught up with him in the corridor, on their way to the cabin. “Neal’s right…”
Din slowed down in front of the door and Elara lowered her voice, reluctant to say the words that sent a chill down her back.
“It looks uninhabited and-and… dead, even. What if the Empire already bombed this place and there’s no-one to find here anymore?”
Hissss — The door slid open on the interior of the cabin, which lit up softly as they entered. Din handed the child over to her to walk to the bed and pick up his jetpack from the floor.
“I don’t know, Ela.”
She was aware that her intervention wasn’t helping, but she couldn’t explain why she suddenly felt so restless, anxious, buzzing with the urge to jump as far away from here as possible, and not to leave this little one there, whether there were any Jedi to find here or not.
Maybe it was only heartache at the impending separation from the child, she supposed. And yet she felt something else, something more intense, something deeper, something primal… As heavy and overwhelming as a lingering pain she couldn’t pinpoint anywhere in her own body.
“But we’re here now.” Din reconnected his jetpack to his backplate. “So, I’ll go fly by these inlets, and search this whole mountain for ruins of villages and temples carved in, like it’s described in Cornell’s files, and then…”
He shook his head slowly.
“And then search for another before running out of fuel.”
Elara gave him a kind smile.
“You’ll need this, then…”
He took the datapad she held out to him.
“Thank you.”
And he preceded her out of the cabin and to the shuttle in which they entered. Din put the datapad on the dashboard that he then began to switch on and set up. A step during which the child grabbed the open collar of Elara’s jacket. She looked down at him.
“It’s gonna be alright,” she murmured, fondling his little hand. “Like Gun said, if there are Jedi down there, they will know how to take care of you proper.”
“Prrr…”
Elara winced a poor smile and took the small metal toy from one of her pockets. The child’s eyes didn’t drift from hers, even as he took the toy in his free hand.
“I’m glad we’ve met. I hope you’ll remember us when you’ll be a big, wise Jedi soon… 'Cause I’m sure you will!”
Pent-up tears stung her throat as she spoke again:
“You’re a good kid…”
“Aaah!”
She held him close, and the child rubbed his forehead against her cheek. Din was getting up from the pilot’s seat when the shuttle began to hum and shake softly under their feet.
“Goodbye, Tip-yip,” she said again, before giving him back to Din’s arms.
With both hands, Elara pushed away the tears and faced the impassive visor, sniffing. He said to her, his vocoded voice more tight than usual:
“I’ll get back to your landing position once I’ll know for certain what’s out there, or not…”
Elara pursed her lips and nodded in response before touching his gloved hand; her fingers found their way under the leather and Din relaxed the muscles in his hand to welcome them against his palm.
“Crent’s files were also talking of many unknown dangers and predators out there,” she reminded him, trying to keep her anxiety under control. “And we don’t know what may still be lurkin’ now…”
She bit her lip and Din folded his fingers over hers in his glove.
“Just…come back alive,” she then whispered to him low enough to hide the emotion in her voice.
Words to which Din nodded a single time. He then lowered his head a little to touch Elara’s forehead with his helmet’s. Heart lighter, she closed her eyes at this contact and even managed to smile. Then, they stepped apart and she released his hand.
“I’ll keep my link open,” he told her. “And the shuttle’s too.”
“You better!”
She took one last look at the child and stroked the tip of one of his ears, then forced herself to back up, and finally turned to get out of the shuttle, her breath short and a lump in her throat. Din closed behind her. The Riser’s hatch locked with a pressurising sound and the whole bulkhead shook a little as the shuttle disengaged.
Her steps stiff and fists balled, she walked back to the cockpit where Neal and Ron had slowed down for Din to separate from the ship; Elara could see the shuttle now gliding more slowly a few meters below, and in the opposite direction. An overwhelming feeling, bordering on irrational fear, came over her and she ran her hands through her hair, scratching her skin with her short fingernails down to the back of her neck as if hoping to get rid of it. But the feeling lasted, swelling in her chest, almost suffocating her.
“The sensors indicate that the selected site is safe for landing, captain.”
TC’s modulated voice pulled Elara from her thoughts and the shuttle disappeared as the Riserturned.
“Ok, no time to waste,” Neal told them. “We have a lot of repairs to keep us busy up until next nightfall, whenever that will be here!”
And as the ship plunged on a downward curve, Elara felt like she was sinking with it.
The shuttle was sinking into the night, dark with a mass of iron-tinged clouds that flickered briefly, as if struck by a bolt of lightning. And it must have been a storm forming over the sea, stretching in angry black waves as far as the eye could see. The inlets in claw marks were fringed with grey foam at every wave that came crashing against the rock and earth, and Din pushed the shuttle’s engines a little against a strong gust of wind that threatened to knock him off course by several meters.
By the light of a new cloud-coated flash, Din could spot the ruined shapes of what may once have been a village further down these inlets and higher up on what looked like a flat hill; the stone foundations of buildings covered with blackened vegetation, the long curve of a fortification facing the land broken by fallen dead trees, the ruins of a towering archway that opened to a wide mountain path that nature seemed to have failed to claim.
Din flew over the ruins of this lifeless village, explored the surroundings and those of the mountain which stood like a row of dark thorns, careful to follow the twists and turns of the path, which sometimes disappeared into the rocky crags and the night, until he found his destination under a new flash of storm; the entrance to a cave, its thick, carved lintel half collapsed. Jaw set, he took a deep breath; apparently, he had just found the gate of one of those temples about the use and significance of which Cornell had speculated so much in his notes.
Another flash of lightning in the clouds cast an ominous glow over the entrance to the cave; the storm was approaching. Din flew over the nearby area, slowing down a little to try and find a safe place to land, but the whole mountainside was far too steep to accommodate a ship, even one as small and agile as his. He would have to land in the valley, possibly even as low as near the village, and jetpack up here. And he wasn’t too happy about that, with the threat of a storm on the horizon. But Din sighed softly and turned the craft around, heading for the foot of the mountain. There, and a little further away from the village in sight of its collapsed arch gate, Din would land the shuttle on a flat, fairly solid-looking strip of land. The thrusters grumbled and didn’t allow for as controlled a landing as Din used to make; the whole interior shook as the landing gears made contact with the ground, and even the child squeaked a little in the chair behind him.
With a few flick of switches, Din brought the shuttle and its entire dashboard to a halt before standing up. Through the narrow viewport that faced the ruins of the village several meters away, he could make out that the sun had to be rising on the coast, somewhere behind the thick black clouds that were packing against the mountains from the sea. No, Din really didn’t like the idea of being stuck in a storm, here or in this cave.
Teeth clenched but resolute, he walked around his seat to find the child, strangely silent and perhaps even a little pale; he raised his large eyes to his visor without a sound, and blinked slowly, his little toy clutched in his hands. Not knowing what to say to him to break the heavy silence, he first put his jetpack on his back. Then, he leaned over to the child and took him in his arms.
“C'mon, kid…”
To speak these words hurt, like trying to speak with a pair of hands clasped around his throat. And yet he added bravely:
“We’re gonna have to fly all the way up there, so… why don’t you give me that and I’ll keep it safe for you.”
He held out the palm of his gloved hand. The child looked up at him, seemed to hesitate, his ears drooping and letting out a small squeak which Din felt pulsing in his arm clamped around him. Then, with a last look at his toy, he placed it in Din’s hand, who weighed it, still detailing it; if he had been astonished, and even impressed, to discover another of the unexpected things this little one knew how to do, now Din wondered at the extent of all he had been taught, and why.
“Don’t worry,” he said, tucking the toy into one of the blasterbelt’s leather pockets. “I’ll give it back to you once we’re back here.”
He didn’t expect to find anyone in that cave, but rather clues, traces that he would have to track down to the actual hidding place of anyone matching the description of one of those Jedi in Cornell’s documents.
Din then walked to the shuttle’s hatch and pressed the panel in the bulkhead; the door slid open onto a dead, grey landscape of which he felt nothing of the cool temperature read by the sensors, sheltered in his armor. With a glance, he checked on the kid ; he didn’t look surprised or bothered by the cold so he jumped with two feet from the hatch’s edge into the thin fog crawling on the ground. And, after closing the shuttle, he walked towards the village’s ruins in an unnerving silence, aside from the crunching of thick, brownish grass under his boots and the distant rumble of waves in the inlets far down the hillside.
Din walked through the broken archway, stepping over some of its huge rubble, covered with the dull, singed foliage under the pallid mist that stretched out in shreds, and startling a few insects with long, iridescent wings that fluttered noiselessly into the questionable shelter of a peeled bush. But Din went past the bush without disturbing its occupants any further, walking between these ghostly buildings whose walls were lying on the ground, their stone smoothed by time like pebbles in a river bed.
Further on, after having climbed a cracked pillar, thrown across a long path knitted with black vines like a web of sharp veins, Din found this other arch that opened on to the mountain and its path still visible from the sky. And it was also visible from the ground, despite the mist and brambles.
“That’s from where we’ll go airborne,” Din muttered for the child, still silent in the crook of his arm. “There’s a cave up that path…”
With a wave of his hand, he pointed to the dirt and rock path that nature seemed to carefully avoid, save for those black, thorney vines he’d had to burn to get through — but quite frankly, Din would rather save his time, and flamethrower’s fuel in case of actual danger, not use it foolishly on a mere annoyance while he could just fly, even at the cost of discretion.
“Hold on tight, ok?”
The child cooed a little, tiny fingers gripping his thumb and Din activated his jetpack, the burning heat of which he felt behind his legs, even through the fabric of his flightsuit. He looked at the sky and the surroundings; everything felt frozen in time, everything felt dead, as Elara had said. Yet, Din would still be mindful. Many things and people he had thought dead had become his most pressing concerns…
Din took a step towards the arch, and then another to take off. Another flash of lightning shone through the cloud layer, casting a gloomy light over the ground and the village’s ruins which grew smaller as he rose. The fog seemed thicker between the shapes of collapsed buildings and their bare foundations, greyer, like smoke, the harsh taste of which he thought he could feel on his tongue and scratch his throat. He thought he heard the echo of distant screams on the wind, the cracking sound of blasterfire over the wooshing of his jetpack, and the ruins he left behind blended with vivid memories of his own village.
Din gritted his teeth, and held the child tighter against him, to turn his focus and the weight of his body towards the eastern side of the mountain where he would find the entrance to the cave.
Wooossshtt!
As soon as Din’s feet touched the almost flat rock ground that stretched across the entrance to the cavern, the jetpack’s thrusters shut down. If a slight buzzing sound lingered in his ears, everything around him was as silent and lifeless as in the valley. Even the storm and the wind hadn’t yet reached that side of the mountain that the pale morning light was trying to reach through the thick clouds. Against him, the child wiggled a little. So, Din unwrapped the safety of his arms to check on him ; he looked fine, though he gave him a look that Din found a little anxious. Quite frankly, so was he… And even more so when he turned to the gaping, pitch-black entrance of the cave. Its massive frame, carved with faded patterns, was split in two and laid across, but as Din approached it, he found that it wouldn’t block his way in at all. With one hand, he reached into one of his blasterbelt pockets and pulled out his rifle’s spot lamp, which he secured to the side of his helmet.
“Ok.” Din sighed without taking his eyes off the the giant stone rubble and the darkness beyond. “Let’s be careful in those ruins…”
He heard the child squeak a little and stomp his arm to curl up against his chestplate, one of his ears folded against the beskar. So, taking his reaction as a sign that he was ready, Din lit his lamp and stepped under the broken gate. He didn’t even have to bend down. The beam of light splashed across the high walls of bare rock and a pathway littered with more carved stone and rubble, that Din avoided and stepped over cautiously. At least the ground felt solid under his feet. And a few meters further on, it gave way to a long descent of wide, rock-cut steps into an oval room, empty except for piles of dust and more rubble; Din looked up, and the beam of his lamp followed, to see a few small chips of stone and dust raining down from an archway that stretched so high in the darkness that it was almost invisible.
A deep, low rumble was echoing in there, like the snoring of a giant beast sleeping in the womb of the mountain. And if Din’s first thoughts turned to mythosaurs and the legendary Taunruk, which had given its name to the mountain range that dominated Kragsted and the stronghold, his logic and knowledge of natural environments leaned more towards the sea and the wind that crashed in waves against the mountain on the coast. And there was something mind-numbing about that slow, steady rumble… Din could fe
“I’m Elara,” she tried, gently. “What’s your name?”
This time, he looked up at her and, for a moment, she really believed he was about to answer. But he only dared to finally pick a still-warm biscuit on the plate. Elara didn’t hold back a smile that widdened even more when she saw one quiver on the boy’s lips. The big hand of the Mandolorianlanded on the boy’s head and tousled his black hair. His voice was soft, even through the helmet, when he said:
“He doesn’t talk much this one.”
A comment to which the boy didn’t give any come back indeed. Not even to grumble like Elara would have, or just to contradict…
His hands moved involuntarily, discreetly pointing to where the kid was. It was hard to ignore the feelings that ran through his veins, but it was harder to ignore the sadness and disappointment that he felt crossing his face.
Grogu was right there, so close and yet so far.
He could ignore all the words spoken, forget the unanswered questions, listen to his heart and keep his promise, he just had to…
No.
If that would hurt Grogu, if that would make things difficult for the kid… no. He couldn’t do that, he shouldn’t do that. If a heart was to be broken, Din would choose to break his own heart, always his.
He had to protect Grogu, he just wanted to protect him. No matter how hard it was to ignore the pain that welled up in his chest and seemed to throb in his right shoulder, there, just below thatpauldron.
Din missed the kid, he would miss him all his life, there were no excuses that would disguise that, but now, perhaps it would be the last time he could see the child… and it would be from a distance. Maybe Grogu was a padawan now, maybe that was right.
It didn’t matter that in his gift he would leave a part of his heart and a part of his soul. No matter the sadness, no matter the broken heart that hides behind the beskar, no matter the pain.
No matter that the armor that covers him couldn’t protect him from this wound, Din would protect his son.
Definitely TBOBF hasn’t given me ideas for drabbles *wink, wink* It’s been a while since I wrote one of these, but I hope you like it:)Image from cap-that.com
Summary: In the aftermath of illness, Mando takes another step.
Word Count: 3200
Warnings:Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, illness (not graphic), descriptions of male and female bodies, fingering (f receiving), grinding, male masturbation, allusions to sexual acts, we’re still yearning because we have trouble letting ourselves have nice things.
Notes: First I’m making up things about space banks, now we’re speculating about space doctors. I hope in the great Star Wars universe they’ve figured out things like (galactic?) health care and insurance premiums. Poor little Grogu is suffering in this one, but I promise he’s in good hands.
I read this before bed and now I am mad as hell that I have to just go asleep without being taken care of by a board man in armour!
Look at my baby making moves now, he saw an opportunity and he took it. Yes, throw caution to the wind! Then he let her sleep.
Then getting off on the thought of giving her pleasure.
Also, the I feel like this is the most Grogu sentence ever written “….he tipped his ration pouch out onto Mando’s lap while looking him right in his visor, deadpan baby face daring you to be angry about it.”
Sitting at my fancy desk at my cushy new job, typing away, and it occurs to me: would anyone like a sneak peek at the next chapter of The Lovely Moons??
You hold your breath, waiting for the tale-tale hiss and freezing of the lungs that comes from carbonite emission. His words echo through your mind. “ You’re not broken, stubborn girl.”
A beat goes by, and nothing. You open your eyes. Mando’s hand rests over the ignition, until he takes a step backward, his hand falling down at his side. You release the breath you were holding and stare back. I’m not going into the dark-this time.
“When?” he asks- his voice sounding firmer than before. You had agreed to meet Halo at the boardwalk before sunset, but the prospect of having to kill the remaining hours of daylight, trapped on the ship with Mando seems daunting. I may lose my resolve. It’s better to get this over with as quickly as possible. Like a bandaid. But saying the words out loud is harder than you expect.
Mando continues staring at you, finding the answer to his question written in your eyes. He lifts his vambrace up to his chin, holds down his communicator, and waits. Halo’s staticky voice answers. “That you Mando?” He sounds a bit surprised that Mando has somehow cloned his frequency.
“She’s yours now.” he says, his voice void of any emotion. There’s static on the other end until Halo’s voice comes back over the speaker. “On my way.” is all he says before the call goes dead.
You pray to the maker that Halo arrives quickly. There’s little for you to do in the way of packing, since you don’t have any worldly possessions to call your own. You look for any reasonable way to occupy the yawning minutes that seem to stretch on forever- anything to avoid the awkward silence while you wait. Mando finally retreats to the cockpit to stir the tanks and fire up the engines. He has no desire to remain on Hunter’s World a second longer than he has to either.
You spend a few moments cleaning up the makeshift bed you had made on the floor and return his cot and his blanket to the bunk. You leave the soaps and the hair brush he bought for you, knowing that he could still find use with both of them for himself. You fold up his cloak and leave it on the end of the mattress. The only thing you have left is the pendant that hangs around your neck. You immediately find yourself rubbing the pad of your thumb over it.
Before long, Mando’s heavy boots are stamping down the ladder. He forgoes the last few rungs and lands with a hard thudwhen his boots meet the floor.
“Your ride’s here.” he says, moving past you to hit the door and ramp release. You step forward to look out the doorway. Halo is just pulling up to a stop on a speeder bike near the loading zone. He pulls down a black bandana revealing his face and those wicked neck tattoos. He turns off the engine and waits, his foot moving up to rest on a higher peg in a casual way. He leans his arm on his knee and waits. Mando holds out his arm, stopping you from crossing the threshold. “Give me two minutes.” He heads down the ramp before you have a chance to respond and heads straight for Halo. Halo leans back a little, crossing his arms while he and Mando exchange words. At one point Mando even points his gloved finger at Halo, though he remains unfettered by whatever words accompanied the accusing digit - words too quiet for you to hear. After a moment, Halo gives Mando one solid nod and then Mando is walking back up the ramp. When he reaches the top he stands in front of you.
“Looks like this is the end of the line.” he says.
The words are crushing, but you refuse to let them in, refuse to get all teary-eyed and choked up. This was always going to be the way it ended.
“Looks like it.” you smile up at his visor, though you know it doesn’t make it the distance to your eyes.
“I’m not really good at goodbyes.” he says, his voice a bit more gravelly than it was before.
“That’s ok,” you say with a touch of lightness. “Compared to your first one, you’re doing an ace now.”
He inhales deeply, his chest expanding, his beskar weighted shoulders rising and falling with his breath. “You’re….sure about this?” he asks.
You chose to ignore the question. The time for changing your mind has come and gone. You want to hug him- desperately so. But the idea of being pressed up against his icy and rigid beskar feels cold-discomforting. You want to feel Din, notMando. It’s better this way. If you were to hug him- if he held you back in return, you’d probably be lost forever. Instead, you hold out your hand. He stares down at it for a second, before extending his own gloved one. Your hands entwine as you bring your other one down on the top of them. He gives a gentle squeeze in return. A friendly goodbye.
“Thank you… for coming back for me, on Nevarro.”
He grips your hand a little tighter and you give a slight rub with your thumb.
“Thank you, for giving me a reason to.”
You smile up at him, and this time the light reaches your eyes. You release his hand, feeling the loss immediately. You tilt your head forward and start to lift the leather strap holding the pendant up and over your head. He places his hand against the top of your chest, pressing against the small beskar symbol of his people.
“I want you to keep it. It’s yours now.” You raise your chin and drop the leather thong, leaving it to hang where it has since he placed it on you back in Sorgan and nod in acceptance.
“Goodbye Din. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
You turn and retreat down the ramp before your glossy eyes can give you away. Halo offers you a hand up and you take it as you climb onto the back of the speeder. He fires up the engine, giving it a quick rev before hitting the gas. You pull your hood up over the top of your head and make the mistake of chancing a look back at Mando before the speeder takes off. Mando stands at the top of the ramp. His right thumb is hitched up on his belt while the left hand is clenched into a fist. You turn away and bury your face into Halo’s back as the bike takes off, racing through the stirrings of snow flurries and into your future.
The ride across town takes some time. You welcome the blustery cool air, hoping it will numb the ache in your chest as quickly as it is your fingertips. Your cheek is pressed up against Halo’s back, thankful that he is broad enough to act as a windscreen. You make your way through the streets. Every building looks much the same- painted with layers upon layers of graffiti, ads for sex and entertainment that are plastered over by as many missing and wanted posters- if not more. You head deeper into what seems like an abandoned industrial district. The ambiance is stark and creepy, putting your instincts on alert. Though it is technically daytime, the rays of the sun aren’t strong enough to break through the wall of storm clouds and industrial smoke that blanket the sky.
Halo finally pulls up to a stop in front of a small building and jumps off the speeder. You hop off, trailing after him and look back at the bike.
“You’re not worried somebody will take it?”
“Nah, it’s coded…needs my thumbprint.”
You continue following close behind and Halo bypasses the front entrance and heads down a side ally around the back.
“Where are we exactly?”
“Just gotta stop and pick something up. Shouldn’t be but a minute.”
When you’re about halfway down the alley, Halo holds out an arm stopping you in place.
“Wait right here.”
You do as he asks and watch as he heads down to a back entrance at the end. When he reaches the door he gives it three hard pounds with the side of his fist. A security drone sticks its orb-like eye out from the wall and scans Halo. A few seconds later, the door opens. The figure on the other side of the doorway remains unseen from your vantage point, but he and Halo begin discussing something too quiet for you to hear. As you wait quietly, trying to pick up on any hint of their conversation, your senses pick up on something else entirely. Your intuition tells you there is something else watching you and you turn to scan the alleyway. The walls and rooftop remain free from any sign of prying eyes that you can make out, but you swear you can hear the faint buzz of machinery nearby. You walk back the way you came, scanning all your surroundings for a clue as to its source. You round the corner, back where the speeder is parked. The low, faint hum grows louder. When your eyes scan the front of the building across the street, your eyes find a single red light penetrating the darkness. Suddenly, a tiny spheroid floats out from the dark and hovers above the rooftop. You stare back and hear the vague sound of lenses retracting and scanning.
A spy drone?
You don’t have a blaster anymore, and even if you did, you doubted your aim would be good enough to hit a small moving target, but the idea that somebody was watching you was creepy AF.Your gaze is transfixed, like maybe if you stare back long enough, whoever is watching on the other end would somehow reveal themselves. The little mechanical ball hovers in place, staring right back. You step forward, nearly off the sidewalk, when the aboveground public speed rail suddenly plows into the tiny droid, obliterating it into a thousand pieces. You jump back, startled. The train cars stir up wind tunnels as it rushes past, causing your hood to blow back. You turn to head back around the corner, to tell Halo what you have just seen, when you slam face first into a solid chest.
A large human male stands before you. He’s wearing a jacket with no discernible shirt underneath and smells like he probably hasn’t bathed in weeks. His hair is greasy, his breath reeks of liquor and one of his pupils is completely blown out and misshapen- likely he permanently injured it somehow.
You take a step back but he follows your retreat, sounding a low whistle of appreciation in his wake. When your back meets the wall, he cages you in with both hands-one gripping a knife you hadn’t seen before.
“Well, well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
No shit, sore eyes! The guy had been seriously maimed and by the looks of it, it had happened recently.
Your heart begins to pound, your synapses fires wildly as you try to formulate a plan. Your knife is tucked in at the waist of your back and under your coat, but with your back pressed into the wall, it would be impossible to retrieve without stepping forward and literally pressing yourself against the man. You could make for the bike, but it was locked and without Halo’s thumbprint, the engine wouldn’t fire. Your only hope is to use your influence on him. He certainly looked like a big enough simpleton, so your chances seemed fair enough. The idea is squashed though when two companions reveal themselves a few feet away. You’d never been able to use your influence over multiple people at the same time.
“I don’t have anything of value.” You state matter of factly.
“Oh, I think you have plenty to offer.” He says, trailing that dead gaze of his down the length of your body.
He removes his hand from the wall and brings his fingers down to your collarbone.
“You don’t want to do that.” You say, trying to infuse your influence behind the words. Your energy feels shaky though, and you know you haven’t pushed hard enough.
“Oh, I think I do.” He tugs up on the leather string, pulling Mando’s pendant up and out from the cover of your top.
“Well, looky at this. What’ve we got here?” He stares at the pendant, tilting it this way and that in the light.
“What is this made of?” he asks.
That’s it. You’re about to draw on your influence, infusing every bit of power you can muster into words of persuasion. You’ll have him turn his knife on his own friends. That ought to keep them busy long enough for you to get back to Halo.
Just as you’re about to speak the words that will turn this guy and his friends into a pack of brawling massiffs , Halo rounds the corner. His hands are casually resting in the pockets of his trench and a toothpick rests between his lips. His brow furrows as he relaxedly approaches, taking note of the men.
He points his finger toward the streets. “Ah, ahh mate. You don’t want to be doing that. Why don’t you just head back where you came from and take your little friends with you.”
Little?Crazy Eyes and his friends were about the same height as Halo, stretching well over six feet. The third was around the same, but hefty, toting at least fifty pounds more than he was.
Crazy Eyes takes two steps back from you and adjusts the tip of his blade so that he’s now pointing the knife directly at Halo.
“You just made a trade back there, didn’t you? Why don’t you hand over the credits and then maybe I’ll hit the road.” he says, unable to control the bit of spittle that flies out of his maw as he’s talking.
Halo reaches his hand to the inside pocket of his coat causing Crazy Eyes’s hand to twitch in response. Instead of a weapon, Halo pulls out a small electric torch and cigarra. He spits out his toothpick onto the sidewalk and replaces it with the rolled brown paper . He shields the cigarra from the wind flurry with the palm of his hand as he brings the small blue light up to the end. The cigarra blazes a red glow at the tip as he puffs out a small cloud of smoke- a chandrilan ciggara by the notes of conifer lacing the white cloud. The casualness with which Halo stands- the cigarra between his lips, a thumb hooked on a belt loop, a slight bend to his knee- a silent and eerie warning. These men- men that turned your stomach and sent a chill running down your spine- were of no consequence to him. Soon to be forgotten. At that moment, you realize Crazy Eyes is in a shitload of trouble. He thinks he’s in control of the situation and he is gravely mistaken.
“Ah, look at you, with your pretty coat and your bitch. Hand over the credits or I’ll carve them out of you piece by piece.”
Halo blows out another puff of smoke, his head tilted back slightly as if he’s weighing the weight of the man’s words.
“Look mate, I can’t fault a rabid dog for trying to take a bite.. But if you can’t mind the length of your chain, you must know… that you’re going to be put down.”
Crazy Eyes looks back at his two friends, a look of confusion on his face.
“What the fuck are you talking abo—”
Before his words are out, Halo steps forward and coldcocks him in the cheek just below his good eye. Crazy Eyes hits the asphalt with a dreadful thud, his arms fanned out, body unmoving. His two friends stumble backwards wearing looks of disbelief. They quickly head off in the opposite direction. You hear one mutter "lets get the fuck outta here.”
Halo watches their retreat intently, satisfied only once they’re out of sight. He turns to look at you and puts a hand on his hip like he’s about to scold a child. You realize that he’s wearing a set of brass knuckles- blood splattered all over his hand. When he had the time to slip his fingers into them unknowingly was beyond you. Meanwhile, the cigarra is still perfectly planted between his lips, even though he just delivered a hell of a knockout punch.
“What!?” you say innocently.
“I thought I asked you to stay put, Bunny.”
“First of all…..you’re not the boss of me,” you say- resorting to words you must have used on him a thousand times growing up. Halo instantly smiles, all signs of irritation replaced with a slight grin. “Secondly, I was about to kick their asses- you just interrupted me.” Halo’s brow piques in interest- he nods in agreement but his face is pure disbelief. “And thirdly, I was following a spy drone, and lastly- stop calling me Bunny.”
“What?”
“I’m not a youngling anymore, stop calling me Bunny.”
“Not that Bunny, go back to the third thing.”
You tilt your head and narrow your eyes. “Really?” you inhale. “A spy drone. I think it was watching us, but it was hit when the train passed.”
“Where?”
You point across the street where a few remnants are scattered. You follow behind Halo as he squats down to scoop up a piece. It must have been under manual control if it was hit by a train.
“Mmm.” Is all he says as he stands and puts a chip in his pocket.
He turns to head back toward the speeder.
“That’s it?”
“Yep.”
“Now what?” you ask as he climbs back on the speeder, igniting the engine to life with a press of his thumb to the pad. You balance a hand on his shoulder as you climb onto the back behind him. You tuck your pendant back down under the cover of your top and put your hands on Halo’s waist to hold on.
“I’m taking you somewhere safe, to lay low for a few hours while I finish up some business. We’ll leave tonight.”
The bike roars to life. Halo does a u-turn, rounding the outside of Crazy Eyes’ unmoving body. As you zoom past, your only regret is that you didn’t deliver him a swift kick while he was down.
The speeder travels around the outlining streets of the industrial district and heads back towards the black ocean, where the old shipping yards are. Halo finally pulls up to a small building. It rests at the edge of the foundation where the city meets the ocean. It’s nondescript, probably used for maintenance or such. He stores the speeder in a nearby outbuilding and leads you to a backdoor.
“Where are we?”
“My place.” He dabs out his cigarra on the bottom of his boot heel before unlocking the door.
“Really? This place? I figured you’d have some sort of luxury penthouse, like all the other crime lords.”
“I do,” he chuckles. “But it’s just for appearances. I don’t spend much time there.”
When you step over the threshold, the overhead lights blink themselves on, illuminating the previously dim room. You’re not sure what exactly you were expecting, but this was not it. Row after row, lush walls of green foliage cover the entire space. Hundreds of plants line the walls, shelves, and tables. Other’s hang from the ceiling, their leggy vines draping down like emerald curtains. The ceiling is made mostly of glass, a thin layer of sea mist and condensation covering it, preventing you from seeing out- or others from seeing in. The blast of green color surrounding you is a jolt to the system after riding around the city- a dull landscape of concrete and metal grays.
“Wow.” you say, slowly spinning in a circle and taking it in. “This is your place?”
“It is.” he laughs at your awed tone.
“This is where I come to escape. You’ve seen it out there- it’s depressing.”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess I’m just a little surprised. You take care of all these plants?”
“Yes. Well, yes and no. I’ve grown them all, from clippings or seedlings; but they require a regular watering and feeding schedule- something that doesn’t come easy in my line of work, so I’ve programmed a bio-droid to look after them when I can’t.” He picks up a small potted plant and dips his finger into the soil. When he pulls it away, there are remnants of dirt that he rubs between two fingers, examining it closely. “But I’d prefer to do it myself.”
“C2-6, get over here.”
A small hovering biodroid appears. He has a tear shaped body and a retractable saucer shaped head on the top, complete with four varying limbs. One is a hand, another an injector of sorts, the third a duster, and the last a nozzle- presumably for watering.
“This one’s ready for water, Two-six, I told you she was getting ready to bloom, that she’d require more than her usual amount of water.”
The droid beeps a sort of curious “oopsy” sound, as a small magnifying lens springs down over his left lens.
“Don’t overdo it, either.” Halo says.
Two-six pushes out its small nozzle, and lightly waters the surface of the soil after Halo sets it back down on a small draining saucer, causing you to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“This. You! I’m just imagining the big bad crime boss bringing girls back here and impressing them with your… green thumb.”
“It’s not my thumb that impresses them.”
“Ewww.” you say, covering your ears and repeating “ la la la la la.”
Halo laughed and then you laughed too. This was nice. Talking with him- joking around like old times. Your brother had never been a slouch with the girls back on Bestine- something that you had always teased him over- and you highly doubted that charm didn’t follow him into adulthood.
“You started it.”
“And now I’m ending it- because thatis something I do not want to think about.”
He laughed again. “What makes you think I’m a crime boss?”
“I can’t say for sure what exactly you are, but I don’t see people like the ones you seem to associate with, following the orders of a professional horticulturist.”
He smiles brightly. “Well, in any case, I don’t bring girls here. You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here.”
“Really?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Not even your partner, Sin?”
“Sin and I are partners, yes. But nothing more- if that’s what you’re angling at.”
“Not even friends?”
He stares ahead as you examine some of the different leaves. Clearly he isn’t entirely sure how to label the female.
“I trust her with business decisions.”
Did that make it a friendship? Fuck if you knew.
“Well, I love it here. I’ve always wanted to grow plants- tried to back on Sorgan. Most of them lived.” Until they didn’t.
“I can teach you.”
“I’d like that,” you smile. “Do you know all of their names?”
“Mmm, test me.” he challenges with a grin.
“Ok, what about that one?” you say, pointing to a feathery, soft green one- some type of fern maybe?
“Crysticus Durus, or more commonly known as a Crystal fern.”
"Ok. How about that one?” you say, pointing out a red leafed, red trunked plant that looked like it was rooted in sand.
“Ohmunus Dunsus, also known as the Hydenock.”
“Ok, I admit, you know your stuff. Or at least I think so- because I wouldn’t know if you were lying or not.”
Something flashed across his eyes, but it was here and gone before you could decipher it.
“Which one is your favorite?”
“Hmm,” his eyes light up. Taking your hand he tows you over to a wall of greenery. The leaves are sort of heart shaped, but other than that it looks like any common houseplant.
“This one? Really? You have all these beautiful exotic plants and this one’s your favorite?”
“Yep.”
“It looks kind of.. ordinary.”
“That’s because it is. It’s resilient- can grow in almost any environment. You’ve probably seen them everywhere and never noticed because they are thatcommon.”
“Why is it your favorite?”
He breathed deeply, taking one down from the shelf for you to look at.
“Because you can’t kill it. No matter what you do to her, she’ll always come back to life.” His voice was a little distant, and yeah you got it. How nice would that be?
“What is it called?”
“Felucanus Eternalus.” He grinned. “Undying heart,” he added.
“Are you sure you’re willing to walk away from this? It looks like you’ve been growing these for years.” you ask, feeling a little guilty that he’d have to leave behind such a beautiful collection.
“That’s the beauty of plants. All you need is a few seeds, a few clippings, and you can start again.”
You take his hand in yours and give it a gentle squeeze.
“We can start anew…together.”
“Yes,” he said, “Which reminds me, I’ve got to tie up a few more loose ends before we can leave.”
You follow him as he winds his way through the curated jungle until you reach a small spiral staircase in the back corner. You follow him down the steps, which open into a small room underground. It can only be described as an office/library. Two walls are lined with shelves full of books and the third is made of thick glass. Ocean waves splash up against the wall- a wild sight to behold for sure. Next to the window, a hammock swings low- an amazing place for reading or napping.
“Holy shit!” you say nervously, staring at the glass. “Uhh, is that really safe?” The wild black waves lap against the glass, chrome colored foam and bubbles sticking to the surface.
“Yes it’s safe, I assure you. The glass is thick…rarely ever cracks.”
“Oh, ha-ha.” you say, staring in amazement. You turn, taking in the rest of the room. “Where’s your escape door?”
Halo’s eyes glitter a little, a smile playing over his face. He always did have the best smile- able to draw you in, making him instantly likeable. He slowly backs up, keeping his eyes on you while his hand reaches for the edge of the bookshelf. His finger hooks around, finding a button invisible to the eye and presses it. The entire shelf from top to bottom pushes out from the wall. Halo grabs the edge and slides the entire unit over, revealing a metal door and security panel.
“How’d you know?” he asks.
“You always used to say, ‘The only problem with a foxhole is, there’s only one way in and one way out.’ You hated it! Hated being backed into a corner.”
“You remember a lot.”
You shrug. “It’s strange- what things you forget, and what things stay with you.”
“You know me well.” he smiles back. “But let’s see how well. Can you figure out the password?”
Up for the challenge, you head over to the keypad. Halo watches with an amused grin, a new toothpick wiggling in his mouth, side to side.
Your hand hovers over the keypad while your brain rifles through the possibilities. You start with the obvious- his birthdate- hoping to the maker that you still remember that correctly. You punch in the numbers.
“[Password Failure ] Attempt 1 of 3.”
You breathe out slowly. Did you misremember his birthday, or is the birthdate not the password? You don’t bother asking him because you know this is a test. He wouldn’t have goaded you if he didn’t think there was a chance you could get it.
You didn’t think he’d use your mother’s name, and you didn’t have any pets growing up. Maybe he’d use one of his crushes’ names, but you’d have no idea which one of them had been his favorite. He didn’t have a ‘best friend’ growing up- well, besides you- or at least that was what he always told you. Whether it was true or just something an older brother tells his younger sister in the moment to appease her, you weren’t entirely sure. He had always said you were his favorite person. Could it be me? You enter in the keys for your name.
“[Password Failure] Attempt 2 of 3. WARNING: A third failed attempt in 12 hours will lock the system.”
“Dank Farrick!”
Halo chuckles. You step back, arms crossed in annoyance.
“Only got one shot left, better make it count.”
“I’ll get it, I just need to think about it. I don’t want to waste my last try.”
“Well, while you’re doing that, I’ve got to tidy up some loose ends.”
“What sort of loose ends are we talking about and whycan’t I come?”
“I’ve got credits, more than enough to see us through, but it will be highly suspicious if I cash out all at once.”
Halo heads over to a desk and pulls out what looks like a ledger. He flips through the pages until his finger lands on the one he’s seeking and he rips out the page, stuffing it inside his coat pocket.
“I don’t want anyone following us, so I’m going to collect on a few debts and that will get us on our way. I’ve also got to talk to Sin, get her set up to take over. I’ll arrange it so she can send the rest once we’ve settled.”
“But why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I come along with you?”
“It’s safer this way, Bunny. After this morning’s little incident, I can’t risk any more unwanted attention- and me chauffeuring you around town won’t go unnoticed.”
You let out a long breath. “How long do you think it’ll be?”
“A few hours at least. I’ve got to collect on these and send word to prepare the ship.”
“What’ll I do? I’ll go crazy just sitting here waiting.” You might literally lose your mind if you’ve got nothing but time alone with your thoughts- thoughts that will divert straight back to a certain tall, broad, shiny, beskar covered man you’ll probably spend the rest of your life pining for.
“I don’t know. Read a book. Take a nap. Just stay inside and out of sight.”
You let a small groan of annoyance slip out- not something you’d normally do, but for some reason, sharing gripes with your older sibling just feels natural.
Halo chuckled again. “Hey, cool your blasters there, Bunny. I thought I’d have all day to get this done, figured you’d want to spend your last hours curled up with that tin can. ”
A pang of guilt echoes through your chest, sadness seeps into your eyes. You plop down on Halo’s hammock, squeezing a small pillow to your chest, not bothering to deny it.
“Awe Bunny, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“How did you know?” you wonder aloud. Personally you thought you had done an amazing job playing it aloof. Hell, you almost had yourself convinced with that handshake goodbye.
“Anybody with eyes can see there’s something between you two….especially if they happen to be walking down the street… in the middle of the night.”
Oh shit. Shit Shit Shit. A flood of embarrassment heats your skin from the inside out. Your eyes go wide and you try to hide it by burying your face in the pillow. Kill. Me. Now.
Your words come out forced and muffled by the pillow. “Maker, please do NOTsay another word.”
Halo laughs- like really belly laughs, out loud.
“S’okay, sis. I accepted the fact that you grew up and became an adult with your own life a long time ago.”
You peek your head out from the pillow, avoiding direct eye contact.
“Good, because you’re one to talk- I can’t tell you how many times I saw you sneaking off into the woods, toting some nerf-herder’s daughter behind you…course I didn’t know at the time what exactly you were doing out there.”
“Fair enough.” he chuckles. “The only thing I can’t accept… is your blatant disrespect for genuine, happabore leather.” he says, flicking up the collar of his trench coat. You immediately send the pillow hurtling through the air, smacking him directly in the face. Bullseye.
“I’m serious. This is my favorite jacket.”
“Get out of here, already!”
“On my way.” he says, before gently tossing the pillow back to you. You swiftly catch it while offering a not-so-menacing glare.
He heads back toward the staircase, his palm gripping the railing.
“If you get hungry, Two-six knows where I keep the food.”
“Halo?”
“Yeah?” he says, pausing at the third step.
“What did he say to you? ..Before we left?”
His tone suddenly serious, he plucks the toothpick from his lips. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t torture yourself.”
Yeah, I’m seriously lacking in self preservation here.
“Tell me.”
“That’s between him and I.”
“Tell me.” you say with more resolve. “Please.”
He stares back at you, clearly debating himself on whether or not he should.
You bait him the best way you know how- by placing your closed fist on top of your open palm. He stares at it, unable to resist its call.
“Fine.” He does the same. It’s weird how well you feel like you know him and at the same time, have no idea who he is now.
“Rock, paper, scissors- shoot!” you say in unison.
You give him a big shit-eating-grin while holding up your two fingers in a scissoring motion.
“Dank farrick!” He pushes up his trench sleeve to reveal a small holopad cuffed around his forearm. He messes around with it for a second and then pushes a button and a tiny audio transmitter pops out. He tosses it over to you and you catch it in waiting hands. He heads up the stairs and you can hear him mutter under his breath, “Every. Fucking. Time.”
You stare at the little transmitter in your palm. On it, you know you’ll hear Din’s voice. Forever wondering what his last words to Halo were, is liable to send you into a downward spiral. On the other hand, hearing his voice again may do worse. Halo is right- you’re just torturing yourself. You decide to play a little game to pass the time. You’ll wait and see just how long you can stand not listening to the audio recording before inevitably giving in to self inflicted torment. You tuck the transmitter into your coat pocket and start the mental timer with a glance at the clock. After staring at the ocean waves crashing against the glass wall for a long while, you check the time. Six minutes?Fuck me.
You head upstairs and explore the green room a little more. You try counting the number of plants, but give up somewhere in the three hundreds when you realize you haven’t gotten a quarter of the way through them yet. You try talking to Two-six hoping to maybe learn some more about the plants- but he only speaks in a binary code that you’re less than proficient in.
Looking around at the plants, it dawns on you that Halo has carved out his own personal version of Bestine, in the middle of this urban ecumenopolis. He’s surrounded himself with a veritable forest, bordered by an ocean. Home.
It breaks your heart that he’ll have to leave all of the plants behind- there’s no possible way to take them with. But then you alight on an idea.
“Two-six, where does Halo - I mean- Where does Vale keep the plant seeds?”
He sounds off with a little beep boop beep and leads you over to an old apothecary cabinet filled with jars. There’s no way to carry them along with you, so you borrow a piece of paper from Halo’s office, folding it into a tiny envelope. You go through each row of jars, remove the lids and carefully pour small increments into the envelope. Sadly, they are all going to have to be mixed together and you have no way of identifying them later-but hopefully Halo would be able to sort it out. Once the miniature envelope is full, you carefully fold it up and tuck it into your pocket alongside the transmitter. Damn, the transmitter. You check the clock again. One hundred and two minutes have passed. You’re doing better than you thought. You figure the longer you can hold out, the better chance you have of resisting.
It’s well past lunch- if the grumblings in your stomach are any indication. You figure stopping to eat something will help more time to pass, so you have Two-six show you where the snacks are stashed. After filling up on dried meat and crackers, you make your way back down to Halo’s office. You run your hand down the spines of books, perusing the titles as you go. Halo has a healthy collection of both fiction and non-fiction reading from what you can see. You get nosy and rifle through the ledger he left out on his desk. There’s pages of names, each categorized by debts owed and little symbols that you have no idea what the meaning of them are. Types of debt? Gambling? Smuggling? Trade work? Underworld? You hadn’t a clue how a potential underboss in Keyorin’s crime world might categorize his finances, but judging by the amounts next to the names, your brother had done well for himself over the years.
Time to check the clock. Your nosiness and rifling through things that don’t belong to you ate up more time than you thought. Two-hundred-forty-eight minutes have passed.
Din is lightyears away by now.
Eventually you give up on deciphering the ledger and select a book from the shelf. The Beginner’s Guide to Plants Throughout the Galaxy, Volume I, wasn’t much of a page turner. You find yourself skipping through the pages, reading the general descriptions of plants, selecting the ones that had the most vibrant and interesting pictures. You seek out the Undying Heart, having quickly forgotten its scientific name. And there in the description, much as Halo had said, the book speaks of the plant’s miraculous ability to recover from most any situation. At the bottom of the page, a twelve-hundred-year-old poem references its tenacity:
Resilient in the face of death,
she’ll weather every storm.
Cut off her limb, she’ll rise again,
merciful and reborn.
Cut out her heart- She won’t forget.
But do not fret.
With soil wet and light present,
She’ll return to love you,
now and evermore.
Eventually, you drift off to sleep, coaxed by the gentle sway of the hammock and the sounds of black ocean water lapping at the glass. It’s not until hours later, that a crashing sound overhead startles you awake.
You struggle out of the hammock, none too gracefully and come to your feet- the plant book falling from your lap to the floor. You stare at the ceiling overhead, listening intently for any clue as to what could have caused the sound. Perhaps Two-sixknocked over a plant? You listen and wait until the distinct sound of heavy footsteps begin to cross the floorboards overhead. Could Halo have returned? The steps continue, slowly circling the room above. Not Halo. He would have headed directly downstairs. Whoever was upstairs was searching for something, unfamiliar with the plant jungle above. They were also large, judging by the creaking of the floor boards.
Your mind begins to race, prioritizing your next move. There are only two possible exits, the entry door you first came through and the escape door in the office. You weigh your options- your indecisiveness eating up precious seconds. You could try to sneak up the spiral staircase and escape through the plants without being seen, but it was improbable at best. Plus, you didn’t know exactly who or even how many people were upstairs. The only other option was the escape door, but you only had one more attempt at cracking the password and if you got it wrong, the door would be locked for several hours before allowing another entry. Dammit Halo, what’s the fucking password?!
You run to the keypad, your fingers freezing in place over the buttons. Not his birthday, not my name….what could it be? He was sure I could figure it out. Could it be Bestine? Did Halo look back on those times so fondly that thatmight be the password? He had, after all, created his own version here on Keyorin. Your fingers begin to move, B-E-S-T-I-N-E.Your index finger hesitates over the entry button, some small voice inside, tickling at your senses, saying wrong.
“Ahh, there you are, little one .”
Fuck. You knew that voice. You had wasted so much time debating the possible code that you had failed to hear Vandaal- the devaronian make his way down the stairs. You step away from the control panel, choosing to draw his attention away from it as well. You circle around, putting Halo’s desk between the two of you as he comes to stand at the landing.
“Did you miss me?”
“Hm, like a Tuskan misses sand.”
“Well I missed you, quite a lot actually. Couldn’t stop thinking about our last goodbye.” He steps forward, closer towards the desk.
It may be posturing, but you hold tight for your resolve and maintain your footing. Your instinct is to step back, to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but you know there is nowhere to go, so you’d rather hold on to what pride you have and stand your ground. Even with the expanse of the desk between you, the nearer he draws, the further you have to tilt your chin upward to maintain eye contact.
“Let’s not play games, Vandaal. Why don’t you just us the trouble and tell me what it is you want.”
“You.” He flashes you a surprisingly bright smile despite the fact that his teeth are all razor sharp, each tooth coming to a point. He licks his upper lip, revealing a likewise, pointed tongue. Your blood runs cold, though you knew what his answer would be the second you asked.
“Well no shit, dick-head. I figured as much. Tell me… exactly how many years have devaronians been sentient? Or is stupidity just a trait found in your males?”
The taunting grin he wears quickly transforms into an intimidating clench of his jaw. Clearly, you had struck a soft spot. Perhaps I oughtn’t poke the beast just yet.
“I’ve come to take you back to Vale. He’s been detained…by business. Sent me to retrieve you.”
You weigh the words, determining their value, and find none. Slowly shaking your head, you respond with indignance.
“He wouldn’t have sent you. He knows I’d never go with you.”
“You’re so sure about that? Think you know him?” He steps forward again, until the front of his thighs meet the edge of the desk. Two feet of Keyorin hardwood- all that stands between you.
“Know that he’s not the kind of man that would sell you to the highest bidder, and send me in to do the dirty work?” You remain silent, not giving in to his provocation, though much to your disappointment, his words cause a pang of doubt to echo over your mind.
“He wouldn’t.” you say. But the slight tremble in your voice betrays you.
He leans forward, balancing the knuckles of his fist on the desktop. He tilts his head slightly to the side, his yellow eyes searching your face for a reaction.
“You’re not sure are you? Truth is, you don’t know who he is at all. Oh, I could tell you some stories. That man….as ruthless as they come. And now that your metal guard dog is out of the way..”- he runs his gaze up and down, momentarily lost in whatever images he was conjuring in his head- “well, there’s nothing to stop us from collecting on that bounty, is there?”
Your heart sinks. Vandaal was a problem when he was just a crude lech, but now- he knows about your bounty, making him ten times the obstacle. Using your moment of incapacitating doubt as an advantage, Vandaal reaches over the expanse of the desk and seizes you by the waist, faster than you thought someone of his bulky size possibly could. Your hands instinctively fly to his wrists in a wasted effort to dislodge his grip. You are quickly tossed over a shoulder as he spins to head back towards the stairs. You flail and kick, but are not more than a swamp mouse caught in the paw of a rancor.
He stops to adjust your weight over his shoulder. “I’d mind the horns if I were you.” The hard bulging tips of them, rubbing up against the side of your hip as you dangle ass over head. You suddenly remember the knife you have stowed in the waistband and reach behind you to tug it free. He has no idea you’ve just armed yourself as he nearly reaches the landing at the bottom of the stairs. At his great size and dangling over his back, you’re not sure you’ll be able to hit anything vital, but you’d have to take the chance. Using your left hand to push against his back for leverage, you raise your knife hand up and send it arcing downward and into his lower back. You feel the disgusting sensation of flesh giving way to blade and the distinct vibration as the edge scores alongside bone. His back arches, and he unleashes a gruesome roar that leaves your ears ringing. You lose your grip on the handle- the knife still lodged in his back- as you are thrown off his shoulder. You crash into the desk, skittering across the top like a rock over a lake, and clear into the shelf-a number of books falling in a heap around you. You gasp for air as the pain of temporarily being unable to breathe seizes your lungs. Your arms fly to your stomach protectively, trying to will your body to do its job and breathe again. You begin to sputter and choke as the air too slowly begins to return to your lungs. Your eyes water. You need to move. Vandaal is still roaring, trying and failing to reach behind his back and remove the blade. He still blocks your escape route though. There’s no way to get past him and to the stairs.
Stupid! I should have waited until I was upstairs. You have all but trapped yourself with a much angrier Vandaal. Unless I can use the escape door. You edge your way back to the keypad along the bookshelf. Vandaal stops struggling to pull a small vile from his pocket. He turns back to face you, leaving the dagger to rest in his back much the way it had in his horn the day before.
“Bitch…” he slurs. “Got me right in the liver! Lucky then, that I’ve got two.”
He pops the cap off of the vile and tilts his head back to the ceiling, inhaling an amber colored powder into each nostril. Breathing deeply, his back stiffens, spine going straight. The distinct smell of sulfur tinges your own nostrils, spurring you back to your task.
When you look at the keypad, B-E-S-T-I-N-E is still poised, ready for entry. All you have to do is hit enter. You hesitate again, thinking of Halo. Did he really sell you out? One way to find out. You quickly clear the screen and input B-U-N-N-Y instead.
“You know, All they said was ‘alive’. No other terms as to the condition that you were to be delivered. You know what that means Little One ? You and I are going to have some fun.” He tilts his head to the side, releasing a large CRACKin his neck. With the sulfur seemingly given him a rush of strength, he reaches behind his back and pulls the knife free.
You punch the “enter” button. A green light flashes across the screen and the door panel slides out of place to reveal an opening with a ladder in the floor.
A spray of water dots my visor as I fly over the black ocean. When I turn to head toward the spaceport, the rushing wind quickly blows it all away. The thoughts running through my brain come and go just as quickly. Vale opened a floodgate in my mind, and I struggle to focus on any single one thought long enough to work through what it all means.
They are siblings. He knows where the Jedi are…. She loves me?…
There’s no point trying to make sense of it all right now. Right now, I just need to get back to her, make sure she’s ok.
I slow my approach as I make the descent into the spaceport and come to an urgent landing just outside of the Crest. I scan the area and immediately find her trail. The transport dropped her off several feet away and her footprints head straight towards the Crest. Relief floods my veins, knowing that she made it back. I keep a vigilant eye of my surroundings as I casually follow her prints. There are several travelers, some droid mechanics and a port caretaker in the vicinity, but nobody that seems to be a threat.
I continue following her tracks and move to hit the button on my vambrace that will trigger the loading ramp door to open, when something halts me in my tracks. Her prints don’t quite make it all the way up to the Crest. They appear to fall in a direct path toward the door but make an abrupt turn to the left and head away from the Crest and to the south side of the hanger. There are no other prints or markings that appear to coincide with hers. Wherever she went, it seems as though she went on her own. I follow her trail past a half dozen other docked ships, continuing to scan the area for any sign of her. She couldn’t have gone far in such a short amount of time, but my heart rate begins to increase, fear tickling at my spine at the thought of something having happened to her.
Her trail comes to end in front of a circular aperture door. A glowing neon sign and the steady stream of crappy music trickles out, indicating that she has stumbled upon the spaceport’s dive bar.
I step forward, triggering the door’s metal curtain to spiral open and cross the threshold, prepared to give her a rash of shit for not locking herself into the Crest like I had asked. The idea is quickly lost however, when I scan the area and find her sitting on the edge of the bar, a drink in her hand, surrounded by a semi-circle of bar patrons all eager to give her their attention.
Her legs are crossed, and she swirls a straw around in her fruity looking cocktail. Her skin is glowing, and the solemn expression she wore on her face as I put her in the cab has been replaced by a smiling, happy one. She’s drunk.
“Ahhh, Mando! You found me! I knew you would, see guys, I told you.” She says with humor, to the group surrounding her. A quarren slaps down some credits on the bar next to her. She scoops them up with a smug expression on her face and quickly tucks them into her pocket.
All eyes fall on me as I take a few steps closer, approaching slowly as I take in her new companions. The Quarren steps back and on her left is a zeltron, concealing a blaster behind his robe. On her right, a seven and a half foot tall wookiee with tactical armor belts. There are a few other patrons of varying species scattered around the bar, but overall the atmosphere is pretty calm.
“You’re drinking?” I ask. “The sun has barely risen.”
“We’re all travelers of the galaxy, Mando.” She says, spreading her arms wide. “There is no night and day for us. No sun nor moon will tell us when and when we cannot drink!” She shouts, loud enough for the whole bar to hear. The wookiee chimes in, echoing her proclamation with a WwwaahhhhhhrRR!
“Let’s go.” I say.
“Hang on Mando, don’t be such a killjoy.” she says.
The zeltron and the wookiee both seem to find that hilarious- the wookiee making an audible Waaaa hehehehehe.
“I want you to meet my new friends. This is Fantuss and this is Kiki.” she says, hiking her thumb toward the wookiee.
“We’re playing a little game …hiccup…and we are having the besttime getting to know each other, learning lots! For example, Fantuss here is a virgin, if you can believe it.”- Her words coming out just a little sluggish.
The zeltron protests, “hey, that’s not true!.” his red skin deepening to crimson, he runs a nervous hand through his dark purple hair.
“How can you be this far gone already? I only left you for a few minutes.”
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s this game. I don’t think I’m playing it right… hiccup…It’s called, ‘ Never Have I Ever ’ and it goes like this; You say something you’ve never done, and if somebody has ever done that thing, they have to take a drink… Hiccup…Watch I’ll show you. Never, have I ever… killed my own parents!”
She tilts her head back and swallows down a hearty gulp of her drink.
Fuuuccckkkking hell. So that’s why she’s upset. That’s what Vale confirmed?
She looks around at everyone, waiting.
“Shit, I guess I’m the only one.”
“Let’s go, you’re drunk.”
“Nope. Definitely not. Never, have I ever… hiccup…fucked a mandalorian. ”
She tilts her head back again, downing a significant portion of what’s left of her drink. She then looks around and waits.
“Whaaa? Nobody else?” She shakes her head in disappointment. “You guys are missing out…hiccup… lemme tell you.”
The wookiee snorts again, waaa hehehehehe and the zeltron fists the air, his still full drink in his hand. “What about a zeltron?” he asks.
I want to punch him square in the jaw for his comment, because I can see where he’s going with this, but I figure I better just ignore it and get her out of here.
“Shit, I don’t think I’m doing this right, am I? I’m saying all the wrong things? Doing this backwards, aren’t I?”
“Let’s go, we’re done here.”
“Wait! Wait! I’ve got it now. Never, Have I ever dismembered someone with my bare hands!”
She does a little wiggle on the bar, giddy with anticipation as she stares at the wookiee. He slams back his entire tankard in a single gulp and everybody in the bar cheers.
“I knew it!!!” She shouts out in excitement.
The wookiee uses his empty hand to slide around her waist, lifting her off the bar and settling her on his lap. I tense, noting his size- at least two heads taller than me- and underneath all that fur is packed muscle and strength. Beskar is pretty worthless when it comes to being dismembered.
“Put her down.” I say.
“It’s alright Mando, Kiki and I are like this.” she says, holding up her crossed index and middle finger. Aren’t we Kiki?” She smiles at him and gently runs two fingers through his beard.
“Wow, your hair is really soft, hiccup … what kind of conditioner are you using?”
“The wookiee calls out, “Rrr rawWWwr ruh hhhuh.” [she doesn’t want to leave]
“We’re done here.” I say, tossing a few credits onto the bar. I step forward to pull her out of his lap, but the wookiee growls - a clear cut warning.
“I can’t leave now Mando, I’ve finally got the hang of it. Watch….” she says, turning to stare directly into my visor.
“Never, have I ever…seen your face.”
The bar goes quiet, waiting to see if she takes a drink.
She doesn’t.
“Come with me…please.”
She waits a beat before responding with a very reluctant, “Ohhh, fine.”
The wookiee whines, letting out a disappointed snort,but let’s me approach. I grab her around the waist, and quickly toss her over my shoulder. If she’s this drunk, it’s better for me to carry her and still be able to pull a trigger if I need to. In her state, she’d probably break an ankle if I needed her to run.
I back away and nobody makes a move. I turn to walk away with my stubborn girl slung over my arm and head toward the exit.
“Later Kiki! Call me, K?” She shouts back- despite the fact that she doesn’t own a communicator.
“Whaarggghhhh Nahhh ruuuhh” the wookiee shouts back.
“He says his name is NOTKiki.”
“No way, really?” she sounds surprised.
“He also says you don’t speak a word of Wookiee.”
“Oh Maker… hiccup… that actually makes a lot of sense.” she says, as we exit the bar.
YOU
The freezing air of the hanger is like a splash of cold water to your face, quickly working to dissolve away your buzz and the warmth of the bar. Mando had the audacity to interrupt you before you could get drunk enough to achieve blackout status and forget everything that’s happened in the past two hours. Each jostling step away from the bar and toward the Crest is a leap back to reality- a reality that feels overwhelming to face right now, especially sober. You’d much rather head back where you can drink until your worries are gone and there’s nothing but numbness left in their place. It would however, only delay the inevitable.
As you dangle over Mando’s shoulder, his pauldron digs into your rib and the blood begins to rush to your head, making you feel queasy.
“You can put me down now, I can walk.”
He takes a few more steps before halting completely. He pauses a few seconds and then his gloved hands brace you at the waist and he slowly pulls you up and forward. You begin to slowly slide down his chest, until you feel your boots meet the ground. His hands remain around your waist to steady you. You find it impossible to look him in the eyes- or at least into his visor where you imagine him staring back at you. Instead, your eyes remain rooted to the toes of your boots.
What must he think of me?
“I suppose we need to talk.”
“After.”
“After what?” you ask, looking up just enough to face the beskar chest plate in front of you.
“After a hot shower- you’ll feel better.”
“Why is your solution always a hot shower? I’m starting to think you just want to see me naked.”
“The water, it regulates your body’s systems, puts you back into your natural rhythm. It’s the quickest way to reset.”
“Oh.”
“And I like to see you naked.”
You nod your agreement. If there’s anything that can sooth this aching feeling in your gut, besides booze, you’ll happily agree.
Back at the Crest, your movements are a bit sluggish. You sit at the edge of the cot and begin robotically untying your boot laces, though your mind is clearly somewhere else.
“Do you need some help?” Mando offers. There’s nothing sexual in his tone, he sounds more concerned than anything.
“No thanks, I’ve got it.”
His shoulders lift with a deep inhale and then he heads over to the fresher to turn the hot water on.
“I’m gonna do some system checks, just shout if you need anything.”
“K.’ you say, stoically.
“We’ll talk after you’re feeling better.” he adds.
“K.”
He hesitates and then retreats up the ladder, heading to the cockpit. You discard the rest of your clothing, not caring where the pieces land or what you’ll use to dry off when you’re done, and step under the hot spray of water. The first few seconds sting as the hot water meets cold flesh, but it soon gives way to a wash of warmth. You run your hands over your face repeatedly, and then open your eyes to stare down at your splayed hands. There’s blood on them. Only it’s not yours, it’s the blood of your parents. You grab the bar of soap that Mando bought you and immediately begin scrubbing. You frantically rub the soap back and forth, hoping it will wash away the layers of guilt you feel. You get between every finger and under your nails. You rub the soap across the top, rinsing and repeating. You still feel dirty. You turn the hot water up, pushing the button up to the max and then you begin again, this time scouring your entire body with the soap. It doesn’t work. The dirty, awful feeling remains. Tears prickle at your eyes, or maybe they are already falling- It’s hard to tell with the scorching hot shower water blasting at your face. This feeling won’t wash away. Of course, you know that, but in the moment, it feels like poison radiating out through your skin.
You give up on the soap and just stand there, letting the water heat you from the outside in. You’re motionless under the spray, lost in the past, lost in the choices you must now make.
Do I continue with Mando…with Din? Or do I continue with my brother?
Ache suffuses your chest at the idea of either. You and Mando have been on this wild, strange journey together over the past few months. If it wasn’t for him, you might never have found Halo on your own. And…you love him. You’re sure of it. The idea of going your separate ways feels so wrong.
But it’s going to happen eventually anyway.
He cares for you, you know he does. He may not feel that bone deep love like you are, but you know he cares for you. You are friends, nothing more- And you are thankful to have him as a friend. But at the end of this road, you will both walk away. You will go with the Jedi and he will go back to his life as a hunter and never look back.
The alternative is a life on the run, forever in deep hiding- or worse. If you were ever to lose control of this, this thing inside you again. He could end up hurt, or dead. No. You could never do that, never put him in that position. The absolute best thing you could do for him right now is walk- hell run away.
Relieve him of his obligation. Because that’s why he’s here- the only reason. Let him know that he did his duty and he did it well. He returned you to your kind- better yet, your kin.
You’ll be with your brother and even have an escort to the Jedi. Because yes, you would see this through. You will find them and get the truth- find out what this wicked thing inside you is- and Halo will be by your side while you do it. He has the means, and a vested interest in finding out the truth alongside you. He has seen you at your worst, knows what you are capable of. He knows exactly what he’s signing up for.
But, can I trust him?
You think so. Your heart says he still cares for you, else why would he have been sending you credits, watching over you all this time? Something tugs at you, like a missing puzzle piece that you haven’t quite figured out yet, but maybe it’s just nerves. You know he has so much more to tell you, more about the details of that night- things that will surely be told over time. After all, finding out you were responsible for your parents’ deaths was a big enough blow for one day. Of course, he couldn’t tell you about every last detail in one conversation, hells- you were the one that ended the conversation.
It’ll be better this way. Walk away from Din, before he walks away from you. It’s the right thing to do.
DIN
Maker, I’ve royally fucked up.
Never get attached.
It was a simple rule that every bounty hunter knew was necessary. Get attached, and people get hurt- and that’s exactly what’s happening.
You have a job to do. Deliver her safely. Nothing more. Nothing less. But you’re fucking it all up.
My head is not right. Ever since our paths crossed, I can’t seem to make the right decisions. Maker, she frustrates me. She makes me question everything, makes me have doubts, even about the creed. She makes me doubt everything I know.
DANK FARRIK . She makes me feel things I don’t understand, but…she also makes me feel… alive.
I was a fool last night, jealous- and for no reason as it turns out. I don’t know how to be Mandalorian with her. Every other minute I’m questioning why I wear this helmet. Why? When it’s the only thing preventing me from kissing her, tasting her, smelling her, seeing the color of her eyes. Why? Why do I wear this?
Because,this is the way- and nobody said the way would be easy.
But I’m still fucking up left and right and she doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve my unwarranted jealousy, and doesn’t deserve to be fucked in an alley- especially when I know how this ends. But Maker knows, there is something, something I can’t explain. She makes me want her so badly. Makes me think about things that were never a consideration before. But why? Why think about things I know I can’t give her?
My fist flies out in anger. I pull it back to reveal a large dent in the side paneling of the cockpit. Stupid.I clench and release my fists several times to try and release the building tension and prevent the Crest from becoming a punching bag. I’ve got to fix this. But I’m torn on how exactly to do that. I don’t trust Vale- or Halo- or whatever the hell his name is. But she does. And that in itself causes another major problem. If she decides she wants to go with him, what do I do? Do I let her go? Whatever he told her- it was crushing. I want to throttle him for doing that to her, for putting her throught that. But then again, at least he is treating her like a person. He wants her to decide on her own what she wants to do with her life. And here I am. If I’m not treating her like a bounty, then I’m pushing her to do what I think is best, despite what she wants. As much as I hate to admit it, I need to let her decide, and if she decides to walk away, I need to accept it.
YOU
The water suddenly shuts off. You look up, startled to see Mando’s hand reaching around you. He must have turned it off. You turn around, the question clearly written on your face. What was that for?
“Are you ok? You were just standing there. The water’s freezing.”
“It is?” You hadn’t noticed when the hot water had run out and turned to cold, but it must have been a while because your skin was covered in goosebumps.
Mando quickly wraps a blanket around your dripping body. Now that you’re aware of it, your skin does feel icy. You clench the blanket with your fists at the dip of your neck, starting to shiver. Mando begins running his hands up and down your arms, creating heat with the friction.
“I guess I got lost there for a minute…didn’t realize.” you say.
Let’s get you dressed and warmed up. I’ve got a cup of caf waiting for you.”
“Oh, that sounds so good right now.”
You drop the blanket on the floor and scoop up your discarded clothing. Mando turns, giving his back to you for a moment of privacy, which you think is sweet considering he’s seen every part of you, thoroughly at this point.
“Dressed.” you say, once you’re done and grab the blanket off the floor to hang on a protruding valve, to dry out.
Mando turns back around and grabs one of the small crates from the side of the hull. He places it near the wall where the floor vent radiates the best heat.
“Sit here.” he says, handing you a cup of hot caf.
The warmth of the hot liquid emits through the mug, warming your hands in the process. It feels amazing on your icy fingertips. Tendrils of steam rise off the top of the brown liquid. You inhale the delicious aroma. The scent of it, combined with your unintentional ice bath is enough to wear off whatever was left of your buzz and slam you headfirst into Sober-town. It’s awful.
Where even to begin?
“Better?”
Not sure how to answer. Warmer? Yes. Better than I was before we landed here? No.
A swirl of movement overhead. You feel Mando’s arms come around you as he fastens his cape near your collarbone. The added layer immediately helps to warm you back up. The tattered hem of the cape falls alongside your boot. You absently think back to the first time he wrapped you up in it. It was long, too long, dragging behind your footsteps back then. Now, if you stood, it would probably hit just at your ankles, the bottom frayed and tattered with holes where his jetpack has left its mark.
Mando remains silent, ever patient as he stays squatting down before you. You’re face to face, or at least it would feel that way if he weren’t wearing his helmet.
“You were right Mando. I need to find the Jedi.”
“What’s changed your mind?”
You look down, not able to look at him when you say this. Just the idea, the image of disappointment you imagine playing across his face is enough to twist your gut.
“I think, this thing I have inside me…I think it’s broken. And I think they are the only ones who can help me fix it. Or… I don’t know, maybe they can remove it entirely.”
Mando’s shoulders tense, his back going stiff as a board.
“Why do you think you are broken?”
“Because, it was me Mando. This thing inside me…I killed my parents.”
Your eyes meet the black t of his visor. You wait, bracing yourself for the disgust and disappointment, but none comes.
“Is that what he told you?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe him?”
“Well, he wasthere.”
“Because he is your brother?”
You nod slowly. “He told you?”
“In so many words.”
You wonder what he means by that.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Have you known all along? That it was your brother we were chasing?”
“No! I swear. I mean- a part of me had hoped it might be him, but I had no way of knowing. He disappeared. I didn’t know if he had died that night or not. I just always hoped there was a chance he was still out there somewhere. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. When I saw him last night, the first thing he had whispered in my ear was that people were listening. He asked me not to tell anyone, at least until we were off planet. He said it was for our safety. And then, I was going to tell you, when we were sitting in the cockpit. We were talking, and you told me that if we went into deep hiding, lying would be the only way to survive. You remember?“
Mando nods yes, and you continue, "And I thought, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. And maybe that lie isn’t for my safety, but for his. If anybody finds out, if the Empire finds out that he is my brother….what will they do to him? I don’t want to put a target on his back.”
Mando stands up and begins slowly pacing the hull. The man is so broad, he swallows up everything in the small space as he moves back and forth.
“He said your father was a Jedi.”
“Yes. That’s what he told me as well.”
“And you believe him?”
“I have no reason not to. My father…he wasn’t really around when we were growing up.”
Mando stops his pacing and stands, facing you.
“How does he say you did it?”
“What do you mean?” “How did you…kill them?” He hesitates on the word kill- and yeah, just hearing those words out loud, guts you to the core.
“I don’t know exactly. We didn’t discuss details. I remember using my influence, remember it pouring out of me. I remember hearing my mother scream, and then later, I just knew. Knew they were dead.”
Mando pauses for a long moment. “I don’t believe it.”
“Which part?” you say, setting the caf down and standing up. Mando is so intense, so imposing when he’s on his feet and you’re sitting down. So, you stand your ground, ready to hash this out.
“I don’t believe you killed them.”
“Why? Because I made a mudhorn float for a few seconds?”
“No.” he snaps back sharply, his modulated voice sending a rush through your veins.
“Because what’s inside you is special…it’s beautiful.”
His words cause your chest to physically ache. Here you are, a monster standing before him, possessed with an evil power you can’t control- and he says he thinks it’s beautiful.
“It’s deadly Mando. It hurts people and in case you need reminding, just look where we are. Have you forgotten? Everything I touch turns to shit. It’s only a matter of time before it gets you too.”
“You were just a kid…” he lets the words trail off. “And…you don’t even remember how exactly…”
You cut him off. “I’ll find out, in time.” The insinuation is there, underlining your words.
Mando takes a deep breath. “So, you’re going with him then?”
There’s a sudden rock lodged in your throat. Your mouth is dry, gritty like sandpaper. It’s near impossible to swallow.
“I think it’s for the best.”
It’s now or never. You’ve got to walk away right now, make a clean break if you want to save him- really save him. Rule number one: Cut all ties.
You take a step toward Mando, trying your hardest to conceal the waiver in your voice.
“You did your duty Mando. You did exactly what you were supposed to. You delivered me to my kind- my family. Halo knows how to find the Jedi. He’ll take me, we’ll leave this very night. He knows how to find them. It’s ok Mando, …obligation fulfilled.”
He inhales a deep modulated breath.
“It doesn’t feel right leaving you with him.”
You nod your head side to side, using your most soothing voice.
“You’re going to feel that way no matter what. You said it yourself, the Jedi are the sworn enemy of the Mandalorian. You were always going to feel like it wasn’t right. But you did it. You got me safely to where I needed to be.”
Mando goes quiet, and the waning silence spears you with a moment of doubt. Can you really do this? Can you walk away from him forever? I love him. This is going to hurt forever. For a split second you feel completely weak. A seed of hope roots down deep within your heart. Could he possibly love me too? What if he did? What would you do? Beg him to stay with you forever? Live with you while you train with the Jedi? Force him to live a life in deep hiding? It sounds so absurd.
“Mando?”
“Hmmm?” he says, lost in his own thoughts.
“Back on Sorgan, after you left….what made you come back?”
Please say it was me! Say you couldn’t bring yourself to leave me. Say you couldn’t leave without me. Please, please say…you love…
“I picked up the hunter’s trail when I was on the way back to the Crest, why?”
That tiny seed of hope, withers away with his words, confirming that you are doing the right thing. Resolute in your decision, you continue.
“See, that’s what you’re good at Mando. You’re a bounty hunter. Your job here is done. Time to get back to hunting.”
The words didn’t feel good coming out. You wanted to tell him that he was so much more than just a bounty hunter, so much more to you. But the best way to make a clean break was to point him in another direction. You knew exactly what to say next, exactly how to ensure he’d walk away forever. Telling him that you’d withheld information- information he would consider critical. The idea that he’d be angry, mad at you as you said your goodbyes made you sick- but, it would insure a clean break. If you want to survive, cut all ties. Give him another trail to follow.
“There’s something else. If you still want to locate a covert, there may be Mandalorians on Trask.”
Mando remains still, but you see him clench and unclench his fist several times.
“Your brother told you this?”
You shake your head. “No. I learned this back on Lahsbane.”
The revelation hurts him, you know it does- but it will make it easier for him to walk away. You look over your shoulder and stare at the little green bulb, blinking away, indicating its system is operational and ready. You walk over to the carbonite freezing chamber. Your pulse quickens and fear spikes through your veins. You’re terrified of carbonite. The idea of being trapped in the dark like that…You turn around and back up into the chamber until your back meets the wall. Mando follows you, pressing in until you can see the shapes and colors of your face reflecting back in his armor.
“So, I’m either going with him…or I’m going with you.” The decision is his now. He’ll either walk away and let you go, or you’re leaving with him- once again as his prisoner.
He inhales deeply, leaning in impossibly close. You stare directly into that black T, searching desperately for a glimpse of the face you know it hides, but find none. Your gaze never falters, though you’re well aware that his finger rests directly over the orange button that will ignite the chamber, turning your blood to ice and your heart to stone.
He presses in, bringing his helmet alongside your ear. Tilted like this, you can just detect the warmth of his neck and the smell of his skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, taking it in. You’ll remember it always- whether as the last time you touched him before leaving, or the last memory you’ll take with you into hibernation.
His modulated voice, deep and throaty, echoes over your mind.
A/N: Ho-boy, things have really gone off the rails! I hope you enjoy!
—
Din crashes through the crowds, his armored shoulders sending people staggering left and right. He taps the sensor on his visor and hurriedly flips through his controls until he finds footsteps. Your footsteps.
The red circles and tiny pinprick of your high heels materialize like a beacon. Locked in, he stalks after the prints glowing faintly along the polished floor. They lead up a flight of stairs, down a long and straight corridor – threading through gaming tables and chairs.
The slip under a roped off area for a VIP section – Azucar’s.
Breathing heavily, Din shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his fist curling and uncurling. One bodyguard, sensing his foreboding presence, swivels his head and eyes the Mandalorian. A few more guards turn to glare, but one curls his lip into a sneer at Din –
“Fuck off. Your whore is with Azucar tonight. He will return her later…well worn.”
Din swells with sudden, explosive rage. Roaring fills his ears, red paints his vision, and fire burns his touch.
The next thirty seconds grind to a half-time speed.
Din slowly engages the Darksaber. The blade slides out on command, crackling and snapping with power. Din shudders as the familiar, dark smoke curls up his arm and snakes through his veins.
After a quick calculation, he cocks his arm back and releases, flinging the saber high in the air. It spins through space – turning end over end and eliciting a high-pitched shriek of energy. With each rotation, the tip of the blade slices through the enormous glow globes that illuminate the corridor. The saber flies back, landing solidly in Din’s outstretched hand.
The entire floor is thrust into darkness.
The severed electrical wires pop and fizz, raining down hissing embers. Distracted, the guards stare at the ruined lights, unaware of the terror about to be unleashed.
Din stalks towards them, the Darksaber snarling with energy. Like falling stars, sparks continue to pour from above. They shimmer and sprinkle over Din, sliding down his helmet and bouncing off his pauldrons. The beskar glimmers from the light, betraying only the terrifying outline of pure violence striding forth.
Din’s grip on reality begins to slip away as his fear and anger feed the saber.
No, no…this is too much.
His last sentient thought was that he shouldn’t do this – he shouldn’t wield the saber when such fury coursed through him like liquid flame.
It was too late. He could no longer feel the saber nestled in his palm. It melted and molded, becoming one with him. His entire body was taut and thrummed with darkness.
The guards move cautiously into defensive positions, unfamiliar with the strange weapon. Din winds his right arm back low and to the side and releases. This time, the saber spins flat on its side, rotating like the rings of a planet. The saber crackles as is churns through the startled guards, gliding in a wide arc before spinning back faithfully to its owner.
Din heaves and shakes with power, as he grips the saber tight and watches the men. He cocks his helmet…and waits.
Silently, the top half of the guard’s bodies slide off and collapse in a heap. Filling the air with the scent of burned flesh, the men’s toppled bodies lie on their sides, exposing deep red tissues and organs, seared with black smoke. The saber cut thirty men in half.
Time snaps back to full speed and all hell breaks loose.
Patrons, frozen in place watching the gruesome scene unfold, start screaming and stampeding. It was as if the entire club breathed in deep, and blew out fire. Humans and species alike start sprinting for the exits, blaster fire sprays out from every direction, and sparks ignite velvet curtains in a fiery blaze.
In seconds, Din has managed to cause complete and utter pandemonium.
Ignoring the screaming masses, Din sprints down the coordinator, leaping and jumping over the bodies. He’s racing towards the back exit where your steps disappear through.
He slams his body through the doorway and the high-altitude winds claw at him, whipping his thick black cape. The landing pad is empty, but your footprints are there, like red splotches of blood. Prints from several larger beings surround yours and disappear. He can tell they hurried you along before stuffing you into a speeder.
Din disengages the blade and lets it slide back into the hilt. He grits his teeth as the dark power slowly ebbs from his veins, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. Shaking his head roughly, he tries to encourage the rest of it to drain out of him.
He punches his vambrance furiously and calls up your location. A little blue light appears, pulsating a steady beat. He zooms out and cocks his head, analyzing your location and locking it in. Azucar’s crew has taken you to his compound.
Fuck.
A few more terse jabs and his jet pack rumbles to life. He launches into the air moments later and disappears into the glittery night.
*****************
Talon is leaning back against the cold, durasteel exterior of his rented airship. Talon never docks Wild Karrde planet-side – too many flight manifests are bought and sold with nefarious intentions. Legs crossed casually, he checks his chronometer again and sighs. He was in the middle of a most lovely evening at his favorite pleasure hall when Mando’s frantic message arrived, demanding to meet right away.
Soon after, Talon heard from his associates what the warrior’s own evening plans had entailed. Talon’s ears pick up the faint roar of engines and watches as Mando lands with practiced ease a few feet away.
Talon regards Din’s posture warily. The man appears electrified and ready to combust. He can almost smell the fear on him. So much so, that Talon’s ownhairs on the back of his neck rise. He arches an eyebrow at Mando and greets him without preamble —
“You’re in deep shit.”
Not a question, a statement. The words bounce around Din’s hollow chest where his heart should be.
“I…yes.” Din admitted. “You heard? Already?”
Talon snorts.
“You’re joking, right? The entire planet knows what you did, and soon, the galaxy. You showed up at the biggest, most exclusive night club, cut dozens of Azucar’s men in half with the fucking Darksaber, of all things, and burned the place to the ground. You put my dramatic entrances to pure shame, Mando.”
Din winces. He had no intention of bringing such attention to himself. None. His options were extremely limited and he loathes to admit the saber took control when he should have been.
They kidnapped you. He was not in his right mind.
He grimaces at the memory of that insidious power that curled up his arm and seeped into every pore of him when the saber came to life. Under his firm grip, it became one with him. He still feels the traces of that dark, sinister power and it makes him want to scald his skin with boiling water to be rid of it.
“I had no choice Karrde. They took my riduur.They fucking took her.”
Talon pales at the implication and the pieces of the puzzle fall in place. That is why Mando lashed out the way he did and nearly razed a building. Azucar took his woman. His wife.
Well, well, Talon muses with dark humor. We are just going to have to kill a lot of fucking people. He levies a serious gaze at Mando.
“I take it you need my help?”
“I’m calling in that favor.”
Talon huffs a laugh. He always knew that Mando would call in that favor one day, and he never doubted it would be a big ask. Rescuing you from the grips of galaxy’s slimiest, most feared drug dealer wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but fuckhe likes a challenge.
Talon was a skilled deal maker, and he knew exactly what he wanted out of this arrangement. He knew it as soon as he heard that a certain, shiny Mandalorian revealed he had possession of the saber for all the galaxy to see.
“I will help you. Under one condition.”
Din sighs in exasperation. Fucking smuggler, of course he’s going to wring something out of him over this. He grinds his teeth and seethes—
“I don’t have time for this bullshit…and you owe me Karrde.”
Talon waves a hand impatiently.
“You’re calling in a favor that’s going to likely get us both killed. I don’t think you are in a position to negotiate.”
Din pauldrons sag a bit.
“Fine. Tell me what you want.”
“I will help get your woman back, if you make me your hand.”
“My what?”
“Hand of the King, Mando.” Talon rolls his eyes and pushes off the stone wall. Sauntering towards Din, he slides his hands into his pockets and explains.
“You are the Mand’alor now. King and sole leader of the Mandalorian people. And every King needs a hand. Appoint me as yours. You need someone like me to deal with the politics you despise so much. And frankly, I’m better at that shit than you are.”
Din groans loudly, rolling his helmet around before letting his gaze settle on the ground.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
He does not want to be Mand’alor. He wasn’t trying to make a grand statement at the club. He merely did what he always does. He assesses a situation, uses the tools he has on hand, and reacts. He had no idea that the fight would come across as him declaring himself leader of his people.
Bo-Katan was going to hear of this and challenge him, along with every other tin can calling themselves a Mandalorian.
Din swallows thickly and tries to quell the rising dread in his belly.
“I’m not fit. I’m not worthy of such a title…and I don’t wantit.”
Din makes a silent vow to rid himself of the Darksaber. As soon as he gets you back, he’ll find a way to dispose of it for good. Be rid of this nonsense so he can find a way to live out his life quietly with you.
Talon looks at Din solemnly, sadly. The man still doesn’t understand the enormity of the situation.
“A great man doesn’t seek to lead Mando…he’s called to it.”
The two men regard each other as the words settle heavily between them. The weight of the choice is unbearable, pressing on his chestplate and constricting his throat. For whatever reason, Karrde believes the Darksaber has chosen him.
Him,of all people. A nothing, a nobody.
A child whose parents were murdered. An orphan raised by a strict, orthodox tribe. A founding whose standing in society was so low, no clan would claim him. A man, who had resigned himself to a life of bounty hunting until he was too old to fight or too tired to live.
Maybe…he was destined to do more, to bemore.
Din clenches and flexes his fist unconsciously, taking stock of all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. Before he can think too much longer, he speaks.
“Alright.”
Talon blazes with delight and nods at him.
“Alight indeed.” Talon places a heavy arm on Din’s shoulder in a show of reassurance.
“Let’s go get our Queen back.”
Turning on his heel, Talon beckons Din to follow with a jerk of his head.
“Where we are going?” Din asks impatiently. “We don’t have time to mull this over food and wine, Karrde. We need to make a plan, now.”
“Theplanis we are going to kill a lot of fucking people. And if we are doing that, then we need to be dressed for the occasion. It’s time to visit my tailor.”
*****************
Talon’s tailor was not justa tailor. Catering to the upper echelons of society, his clothing atelier was operational, but the business was just a front. The tailor, a small unassuming man with a forgettable face, admitted Talon and Din at once.
He ushered the men through a series of backrooms, hidden airlocks doors, and finally a passcode-only elevator to the bowls of the building. There, the tailor opened another encrypted door and revealed the storage room inside.
It was a catalog of death. Metal and glass cabinets lined the walls in an open, angular room. Rows upon rows of blasters and sonic pistols in every shape and size perched on hooks or shelves. Larger weapons –pulse rifles and slug throwers, hung in long cases along the back. Nerve disruptors, hand-held sonic blasters, and paralyzer discs stood in rows of neatly stacked metal cases on casters.
Talon poured over the weapons as if they were precious jewels. He selected and purchased a few and strapped them on while Din silently inspected the various blades. His hand unconsciously went to the saber, fingers brushing the hilt. It hummed at his touch.
Hundreds, if not thousands of weapons were stored here, yet he possessed the most lethal of all. When Talon was finished, the tailor led them back upstairs and to Din’s extreme reluctance, changed attire.
Din turns to regard himself in the mirror while Talon shrugs on a robe.
Black, knee-high boots polished to a glossy shine give way to thick, ebony wool pants that cling to the firm muscles of his legs. Leather thigh holsters hold his vibroblade and blaster. The modest hilt of the saber hangs from his belt.
The midnight wool jacket lays flat and smooth at the shoulders and taper inward – the cut setting off his trim torso. His vambrances are strapped tight over the material and glint in the warm light. The stiff, upright collar hugs the muscles of his tanned throat.
Din stares in the mirror, and the helmetless face of the Mand’alor stares back. He has never worn such finery before and his own appearance stuns him for a moment.
Karrde had insisted on no beskar for two reasons. First, Azucar knew you had a Mandalorian bodyguard, so a disguise was needed to break in. Second, Karrde had decided that the beskar was prohibiting him from using the full power of the Darksaber.
His eyes shift over to Talon’s reflection in the mirror.
Talon is equally outfitted in his own striking attire. A cream tunic, wrapped and crossed around his broad chest, peaks out from a floor-length cognac robe. The generous sleeves hide the obscene number of weapons strapped in tan leather holsters to his body.
Talon is stroking his goatee and regards Din with quiet reverence. He swallows once and speaks—
“Now,there’s a king.”
Din glances down and adjusts the wrists of this black gloves, tightening them with a flick and a snap.
“This is a really fucking stupid idea” he says tightly.
“Yes” Karrde agrees.
“We’re probably going to die.”
“Probably” Karrde replies mildly back. He steps closer to Din, his eyes glittering with excitement.
“But we are going to look damn fine doing so.”
*****************
The ride to Azucar’s compound stretched for an eternity like a nightmare you could not wake from. Terror gripped your senses every second that passed by and dragged your further away from Din. No one spoke to you the entire ride there –the only sounds were the rumble of the speeder’s engine and the pounding of your heart.
Rough hands gripped your upper arm as the guards escorted you inside the compound.
Don’t panic, stay calm. Din will come for me. You unconsciously rub the raised, shell-shaped tracking device on your vambrance.
Your breath quickens when you pass through the massive front gates. Inside, you find a towering, two story entryway, with a matching pair of grand staircases pouring from the second floor. An enormous, crystal chandelier hangs over the space, dripping ice and fire. Dazed, you take in the opulent surroundings and try and think of what Din would do in your position.
He would take in as much information as he could. He would immediately find ways of escaping or note weakness in his enemies.
Keeping your head low, you try to absorb as many details as you can without being obvious. There are guards everywhere, you note with dismay. Men holding large blasters and rifles stationed by every grand window and door. Little surprise, running a billion-credit drug business requires high levels of security.
Music and laugher trickle in from the side corridor on the first floor. He must entertain guests and business partners here. The guard gripping your arm pulls you over so he can speak with another by the foot of the stairs. The rest of the group peels off in different directions, presumably back to their stations.
“Azucar brought this one home. Where should I put her?” he asks, his voice gruff and indifferent.
The guard by the stairs looks up and down your body, lingering on the deep plunge of your dress and the waist-high slit. You internally recoil at how he leisurely undresses you with his eyes. You set your jaw and resist shrinking from his tasteless gaze.
If you show any hints of weakness or fear, they may suspect something is amiss. You try for a bored expression and pretend to study the grand entryway.
After an uncomfortable length of time, the guard finally answers.
“Take her upstairs, to one of the empty rooms. I’m sure our guests will enjoy her talents later on tonight.”
A shiver of fear spider walks down your spine as the guard nods and guides you upstairs. Your mantra to not panic falters when you realize how much time you need to buy yourself until Din comes for you.
You stretch and circle your wrists, finding comfort in the weight of the silver cuffs as you follow the guard upstairs. Din has your location, you remind yourself.
How long will it take him to break in? A few hours? All night?
You pale, your hands go clammy at the thought of having to survive an entire night pretending to be an escort…without actually being an escort.
At the top of the stairs, the guard turns down a long corridor lined with closed doors. Sounds of moaning snake out and settle on you with greasy unease. Finally, the guard stops at the last room on the right and depresses a panel for the door to slide open with a small hiss. He motions for you to walk inside and you go obediently.
It takes a herculean effort to not bolt. You whirl around, wanting to ask the guard how long you’ll be held here, but he closes the door and locks it.
You stand there and take in the furnishings of the room. There are plush, oversized chairs and couches, a large bed and a chaise. All luxurious and clearly designed with nothing but pleasure in mind.
Fuckthat shit.
I’m not a whore. I am rebel alliance solider, a combat medic, and wife of a Mandalorian.
You take a deep breath and steel yourself. Din may come in time, but you cannot rely on him. He can’t be there every second of every day to protect you.
He does not have to be. You are smart and resourceful, and you can protect yourself when the time comes for it.
That time is now.
*****************
“Remind me again why we decided this was the best way in?” Din says as he tilts his head in thinly-veiled skepticism.
Azucar’s safe house was a mammoth building whose towering floors jetted up, spearing the night sky.
“Because it’s the only way in” Karrde responds dryly as he slips his hands into his pockets.
“We are just going to walk up and knock on the front door? Then what? Introduce ourselves?” Din asks incredulously.
“Yep” Karrde quips. “We’ll give them the traditional Mandalorian greeting.”
Talon sniffs the air, drawing the city smells deep into his lungs and closes his eyes for a long moment. It might be the last moment he can savor before they embark on this truly stupid rescue plan. At least, he muses, it is a fine night to die. He gives a sidelong look to the Mandalorian.
“Ready?”
Din pauses for a moment to roll his shoulders back and adjusts the tight neck of his collar. He claps Karrde on the shoulder.
“Let’s do this.”
The two men stride forward, out into the black night.
*****************
The guard stifles a yawn, coughing a few times to cover it. His partner regards him with disdain.
Sighing, he resumes his watch over the dark landing strip ahead. Transporters in all shapes and sizes float by in a steady stream. Coruscant is alive with activity all hours of the day and night. It is an entire planet that never sleeps. Always watching, always waiting.
A transporter pulls up to the main entrance gate and a large man dressed in a floor-sweeping coat exits. With a cocky air about him, he walks right up the guards. The guard is immediately alert and places his hand on the butt of his blaster.
“Gentleman!” the stranger exclaims as he bounds up the stairs. His arms outstretched wide –“good evening!”
The guard is in no mood to deal with this man.
“State your businesses” he calls out.
“This business” Karrde cheerfully replies as he whips out his blaster and shoots the man in the chest. The other guard, flustered, jerks out his blaster to return fire, when two feet come crashing down from above.
The man falls back and hits the ground with a thud. Din takes a knee beside him and presses two fingers into the man’s neck.
“He’s alive.”
Karrde steps over the dead guard and frowns down at the crumpled, unconscious man at Din’s feet.
Karrde shoots two bolts into the man’s chest.
“Not anymore.”
Stepping over the fallen guards, Karrde and Din quickly make their way inside.
Two more guards come rushing forth and Din fires off more bolts – each man dropping to the ground. Soon, an ear-splitting alarm sounds overhead. Din checks his vambrance again, your location pulls up and pulsates like a beacon of hope.
“She’s upstairs and to the right, down the long hallway” Din shouts at Karrde. The blaring alarm makes it difficult to hear anything at all. It rattles around in Din’s head, setting his already inflamed senses alight.
Soon, they feel better than hear a rumble – a sound of countless metal boots striking the floor in a steady, nonhuman beat. Taking cover behind a huge column, Din and Talon peer out at the enormous foyer.
Battle droids, black metal armor shining like liquid night, pour from every direction. They line the upper balcony, fill the foyer, and begin descending down the stairs. Their eyes glow red, eerily silent and devoid of all purpose other than to kill.
“Coward” Din spits. Azucar did not trust his own men to dispatch of Din and Talon with honor, but sent a sack of metal and screws. The droids zero in on the men’s position and volley off hundreds of rounds of bolts at the column.
Din and Talon jerk back, eyes squeezed shut as the column absorbs the blows. Chips of stone began raining down, peppering the floor in debris. The column won’t be able to provide cover for long and the droids are steadily advancing their position.
“Mando…” Talon pants. “This is it. We can’t shoot our way out. There’s too many of them!”
Din regards Talon, his shoulders heaving. His friend, who would do anything for him, standing next to him, ready to die.
No.
“I can take them.”
Din grabs the hilt of the saber and the blade obediently slides out. White-hot pain snakes up his arm, wraps around his neck and spears into his brain stem. Din grimaces, trying to concentrate despite the unrelenting sirens and the exploding bits of rock. He turns to face Talon.
Karrde’s jaw slackens at the sight. Din’s eyes are gone. In their place are two silver orbs, sparking with bits of lightening. The delicate veins around the sockets are stained black.
Mand’alor.
“Karrde” Din says, his voice not quite steady.
Talon, startled beyond words, gives Din his full attention.
“If something happens to me, take care of her. Promise me you will.”
Talon nods his head. “I promise to protect her…with my life.”
With that, Din shoves off the column and launches himself at the droids.
“Mando, no!” Talon cries, as he lurches helplessly after his king. But, he suddenly stops short.
Speechless, Talon watches in amazement as the scene before him unfolds.
***************
You have backed yourself into the far corner of the room. Lying prong at your feet are two men, both unconscious. The first one went down easily. You struck hard and true in his carotid artery, causing his blood pressure to plummet and knock him out. The second man had fought harder, but you managed to slam your elbow into the sensitive top of his head. He too collapsed.
At this rate, you thought grimly, you could pile the men up against the door like a human blockade.
An alarm of some sort was tripped only a few minutes ago and heavy footsteps shook the floor as they rushed forth. Bewildered, you had no idea what has happening, but you suspected it was Din. Chaos seems to proceed the man wherever he goes.
Grabbing your attention, your door’s control panel starts to go haywire. Buttons begin to flicker and flash, before fading out. Smoke smelling of burnt plastic snakes in the room. Then, the door beings to reluctantly ease open.
Your heart immediately starts pounding and hot adrenaline dumps into your veins.
Damn it, I’m not in position.
You did not have time to move beside the door, so you could leverage the element of surprise. You whip the small dagger from your vambrance, cock your arm back, and snap it forward.
Ping!
“What the—?” a surprised man growls.
Din stands before you, a beskar-clad forearm protecting his face from the dagger you just threw at him.
You cry out as you dash across the room before leaping into his arms. You slam into Din hard and he grunts, taking a small step back from the force of your body. He grips you fiercely to him as you sob out in relief into his chest.
Din pulls back and cups your face between his palms. Two deep, brown pools regard you softly before he crashes his lips over yours. His kiss is full of desperate relief. Your body molds to him, trying to soothe the terror you feel in his embrace.
He breaks off the kiss and swallows thickly before asking the question he fears the most.
“Are you hurt? Did they…did anyone…?”
“No.” Swift relief washes across his face.
“They locked me in here as soon as we arrived and only these two have come so far. But, I took care of them.”
A corner of Din’s lip curls and he touches his forehead to yours. “That’s my girl” he murmurs. You chuckle a bit.
“Why aren’t you wearing your armor?” you ask.
But your question is disrupted by a soft “ahem” from behind Din.
You tear yourself away and your eyes blow wide at the sight of Talon. He leans a shoulder casually in the doorway and grins—
“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I could use a drink.”
“Talon!” you exclaim and you break free from Din throw yourself at Talon too, giving him a big kiss on the cheek. He bows his head sheepishly and you step away.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well…” starts as he brushes off an invisible speck on his sleeve. “Someone needed to make this operation look good.”
You laugh out loud and pat him on the chest while Din huffs in annoyance behind you.
“Mesh’la, we need to go” he says urgently.
“Yes, you do” an unfamiliar voice purrs.
The three of you whip around and see a group of guards crowd you all into the room. Blasters aimed and trained on all three of you.
Karrde’s hand moves to hover over the hilt of his blaster and several weapons click and whirl, the charges firing up and ready.
“Wait!” Din shouts. “Easy…”
Din gives Karrde a warning glance – don’t do anything stupid.
Din holds up his empty hands. “Easy. Look, see? No weapon. We will go with you.”
You frantically look between Din and the group as they slowly back off and walk out of the room, with the implicit demand for you all to follow.
Din snakes his hand into yours and gives you a reassuring squeeze.
“What are you doing?” you whisper, your stomach flip flopping with new dread.
“I am not risking a firefight with you around. His gaze settles on and you look at him expectantly. His features are shadowed and strained from stress. Yet, he seems calm, as if he has resigned himself to something.
That observation leaves you chilled.
*****************
The three of you are escorted through of maze of corridors and passages, moving from the more opulent, entertaining spaces of the compound to the business sectors. Rich, carpeted hallways decorated with sculptures and art give way to stark white corridors buzzing with electricity. The further you travel into the forbidden areas of Azucar’s lair, the less hope you have of escaping. You steal quick glances at Din, who is still holding your hand as you follow half a step behind him.
He must be working out some sort of plan. He never takes a job without one. Although, with a pang of guilt, you realize that you had near-bullied him into this. You were the reason they were caught in the first place.
Finally, you were stopped in front of pair of unassuming panel doors, recessed into the wall. A guard punches in a passcode and the doors hiss open where you are ushered inside.
The room is a wide semicircle, barren except for a mammoth table that sweeps up and out from the floor as if it were poured from a mold. Imbedded in the table top are dozens of screens telecasting from security cameras all over the building.
A bald man sits behind the desk, reclined in a black chair that rises up and arcs over him. His fingers are steepled and a sneer curls his lip. He stares at you with colorless eyes. The green glow from the security displays play shapes and lines across his face.
Azucar.
“What an interesting assortment of guests we have this evening.”
His voice is quiet, but harsh, like a measured drip of acid. He rises up from behind the desk smoothly, too smoothly. It becomes apparent that some sort of device assists his movement. His robes drag lightly on the floor and he floats closer. He looks more like a nobleman than a drug lord.
He tilts his head at Talon first. “You are a long way from home, smuggler. Aren’t these sort of situations the types you shrewdly avoid? Hmm?”
Talon, for once in his life, has no glib response. He is taken aback that Azucar has not only heard of him, but knows his face.
“And you” as his attention pierces your thoughts. “A combat medic for the rebel alliance turned courtesan? That is an abrupt change of profession one finds difficult to believe.” He waves at you in dismissal.
Holy hell, he knows who we are.
He glides over to stop in front of Din and he regards him with pure, animalistic joy.
“But you….were the biggest surprise of all. Din Djarin, of clan Death Watch, and now declared King of Mandalore. I knew when I put out the job for my assassination, you would come around eventually.”
Talon and Din let out a small, collective groan. This job was a trap…for Din.
“I must admit I did not expect you to do it with such flair. Burning down the esteemed Aura? Nicely done.”
What is he talking about? You frown at Din.
Azucar continues on in that unnerving, polite voice that barely hides the viciousness lurking beneath.
“You see, I see something of myself in you, Din. I have this insane need inside me. I want no one else to succeed. I want power because everyone else is weak and unworthy. That is why you acquired the Darksaber. That is why you sought out this bounty. You want power as much as I, and I can offer it to you.”
For fucks sake, not another bad-guy speech.
Din has spent a lifetime listening to these manifestos and now, on the cusp of retirement, he decides that he is done.
Din sighs loudly, cutting Azucar off sharply—
“Save your breath. You want my power? Here, take it and let us go.”
Din spins the Darksaber around and presents it hilt-first to Azucar. Azucar’s eyes flicker from Din’s face to the saber suspiciously. Azucar jerks his head to his guard in a silent command to take the saber. As the guard dutifully extends his hand out, Din drops the weapon. It clangs as it bounces to the floor.
You groan inwardly at Din’s master-level display of assholery. Din smirks and Talon tries very hard not to laugh, swallowing it down forcefully.
In a flash of anger, Azucar sneers viciously at the guard.
“Pick. It. Up.”
As the guard bends down, Din and Talon take the smallest of steps toward one another, their shoulders touching and creating a shield. It happens so quick, you hardly notice before a flash of lightening and ear-splitting noise shatter any conscious thoughts.
CRACK.
You duck and wince at the deafening noise, hands flying to your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. Straightening up cautiously, your ears buzz from the explosion and a faint smell of burnt flesh taints the air. You peer over Din and Talon’s shoulders.
There, on the floor where the guard had stood, is nothing more that black ash and smoke. The guard is gone. Incinerated down to atoms, there is nothing left of his mortal body but a small, snowy shower of pale gray ashes. They settle on the floor, circling around innocuous hilt of the dark saber.
There was oneother thing Din and Talon failed to mention to you back on that outpost moon. On the day they spent in that frozen, crusted over clearing, the men had accidentally discovered one, minor detail about the Darksaber.
No one can touch it, except Din.
Unless won justly in battle, anyone that touches the saber is incinerated. During a spar with Din, Talon happened to brush the hilt and the saber singed his arm hairs right off.
Din crosses his arms over his broad chest and quirks his head smugly at Azucar.
Finally, Talon finds his tongue and cannot help himself.
“Well, Azucar, this has been a charming evening and we enjoyed destroying a fleet of your droids and killing…” as he ticks off a few fingers…
“…about a dozen or so of your men. But the hour grows late. And quite frankly, I’m bored.”
Azucar ignores Talon completely and levels an icy glare at Din.
“Either you stay and your friends can go, or all three of you can die. I have always enjoyed the power of choice. And now this one is yours.”
The men stiffen in front of you. Din gives Talon a sidelong glance and the smallest dip of his chin. Karrde’s eyes flicker over Din and he gives a pained nod back in understanding.
Din levels his gaze back to Azucar, indifference clouding his tone.
“Fine. But I’ll never be your slave, Azucar. Never.”
Your breath dies in your throat.
Azucar’s lip curls—“only time will tell.”
Azucar rotates and crosses the room in a slow hover, back to his chair. As he gently sits down, he gives a final order to his men.
“Take him to the interrogation cell. See how long he lasts before changing his mind.”
The men step towards Din and he doesn’t fight them. Din leans over and swiftly grabs the Darksaber before clipping it back to his belt. He offers his hands to the guards and they harshly yank them behind his back, snapping on a pair of binders. He slowly turns around to face you and Talon.
Your heart cracks open.
“NO!” you scream and you launch yourself at Din. Talon is one beat ahead of you, however. His arms lock around your waist and yanks you forcibly back.
Din’s heavy eyes find yours. Two pools of sorrow stare back, apologetic as the full weight of what he has done slams into you.
“NO NO NO!”
This cannot be happening. Blind terror floods your veins and you thrash at Talon to no avail. His grip on you is ironclad.
“We need to go, NOW” Talon hisses, but you cannot hear anything over the roar in your ears. You kick and claw, screaming at him to let you go.
Din watches the horrifying scene with anguish. His whole body shakes as he watches Talon struggle to pull you away. Talon whips you around and starts dragging you through the enormous doors.
“STOP! NO!”
Sobs wrack your chest as you plead and scream at Din, desperate to reach him—
“NO! Please No!”
Talon ignores you and sweeps you off your feet, gripping you fiercely to his chest. You are too small and he is too big to fight off. Through tightly clenched teeth, he grits out—
“Stop.We have to leave!”
You twist your head around and desperately look at Din. You reach your hand out to him as you watch the foreboding doors begin to slide shut.
“DIN! PLEASE! YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS!” your cry at him, tears spilling down your face. The last thing you see before the doors close are him mouthing the words—
I love you.
“NOOO!” you cry in agony and the doors clang together with a boom. The sound reverberates off the walls and its hideous finality slaps you across the face.
You turn to Talon and start screaming at him, your words coming out choked and barely discernable.
“GET HIM BACK! WE CAN’T…LEAVE HIM…HERE!”
Talon grunts at you and he’s running down the long dark corridor now. At the end is a pair of hydraulic doors and Talon hurriedly punches the release button and the doors snap back with a hiss. The howling wind blindsides you as Talon sets you down and starts striding down the narrow airbridge.
Momentarily stunned, you realize just how high up you are. Gigantic buildings push up through the clouds like silver spears as far as you can see – structures that are hundredsof stories high. Tiny airbridges and landing pads sprout out from the sides of the buildings like branches off a tree.
You look past Talon and see Pathfinder parked on the landing pad straight ahead. The ramp is already lowering and engines firing up.
Talon notices that you aren’t following behind him and stops, whirls around and stomps towards you. His face was black with anger. He barks impatiently at you.
“MOVE. We need to get out here, NOW.”
You glare at him.
“NO. He’s going to DIE in there Talon. We can’t just leave him here!”
Talon scowls as he grips your upper arm, preparing to drag you to the ship.
“You think I don’t knowthat?”
You wrench your arm out his grip and turn to run. You don’t care. You don’t care about any of it. All you see is how they will throw Din in a cell, torture him until he dies because he will never, eversubmit.
And you will die too, alongside him. Because you know you cannot go on without him. If there is no Din, then there is no you. You are bound to him for all of eternity, and wherever he goes, you will follow.
Talon has other plans, however. He snatches you back and with surprising strength, tosses you over his shoulder and stalks up the ships ramp.
You wriggle and kick but it’s no use. Talon dumps you into a co-pilot’s seat and places two thick, muscular arms on either side of the armrests, caging you in. He leans down and shoves his face right in yours, glaring hard.
“Don’t you fucking move from this spot. I swore an oath to my king that I’d protect you and keep you safe. I’ll be damned if you break it by doing something stupid.”
Stunned, you stare at him with wide eyes. Talon moves away to the ship’s console and starts flicking switches and pressing buttons with urgency. It takes less than sixty seconds for the repulsorlifts to fire and you are airborne. The sudden rise in atmosphere causes your stomach to plummet and your heart sinks even lower in your chest.
Silent tears slide down your face as you watch the dark tower begin to fade in the distance. Further and further away Talon pilots the ship. Each second, each moment, is a dagger to your soul, gutting you from the inside out. You grip the armrests, fighting the urge to claw at your skin, your clothes, anything to expel the helpless panic straining inside your chest. The silence in the cockpit is deafening.
Talon finishes punching in the coordinates to the secret location of his ship and makes the jump to hyperspace. The fine string that was holding him together finally snaps. He slumps over the console, his face buried in his hands.
You see his shoulders shudder once, twice before you are out of your seat and swiveling his chair around to face you.
Talon’s face falls, crumpling into unimaginable pain. Silently, you wrap your arms around him and his arms snap up to circle your waist, burying his face into your stomach.
Great, big shoulders heave as Talon manages to gasp out—
“I failed him. I…” and he chokes back a sob. “I failed him. My king, my partner…my friend.”
Fresh pain wrenches your heart –his grief and sorrow is too much for you to bear. Tears spill from your burning eyes and you shake, Talon’s strong arms around you is the only thing holding you up. Great sobs rack you both, as you cling to each other, devastated for the man you both love.
The seconds drag by before you can manage to speak in a small, broken whisper.
“There has to be something we can do. I can’t accept standing by and doing nothing. He would never give up on us. We can’t give up on him.”
Talon pulls from your arms, head angled back to look hopelessly at his queen that will soon be a widow.
“Azucar has an army and we don’t. We have nothing.”
An army…The memory unfolds clearly before you.
Din holding you in his arms, swirling you around in the cool mountain lake while he explains the six actions central to all Mandalorians. Tenets that cross all houses and clans and bind them together. The Resol’nare—
Rally to the cause when called by the Mand’alor… he had said.
“Talon…” you croak. “We have an army too. Call them.”
Talon’s face twists in confusion.
“Callwho?”
“The Mandalorians” you say quietly.
“Tell them their Mand’alorcommands them. They will come.”
The view is breathtaking. You are standing close enough to the glass cockpit shield that your breath fogs the surface. You cannot tear your eyes from the twinkling, vast expanse of endless city before you.
Coruscant.
The city-covered planet. You have heard of it of course, but never thought you’d live long enough to see the famed capital of the galaxy. Historians argued that Coruscant is the original home world of humanity.
Din moves to stand behind you, arms crossed over his chest. He’s fully outfitted in his armor and you doubt you’ll see him without it for the entirety of your visit.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” His voice cracks cold through the modulator.
“Amazing” you agree. “How many beings live here?”
“Trillions. I think that’s why Azucar hides out here. Easy to vanish amongst so many. It’s also the financial hub of the galaxy. He likely has no trouble finding dirty banks to launder his money while regulators are paid to look the other way.”
Coruscant is also smack in the middle of several major trade routes, enabling the drug pin to ship off and distribute spice all over the galaxy.
Your eyes sweep over the cityscape, taking in the towering skyscrapers. Buildings hundreds, or perhaps thousands of stories scrape the atmosphere. Floating ships and transporters of all sizes and models speed amongst them – darting in and around, following a hidden skyway of complex routes.
You angle your head down, trying to see the ground, but it is nothing but a black abyss. Stretching out endlessly, the twinkling lights of the structures are swallowed by smoky darkness. Looking back up, the buildings are backlit by a silver-blue glow from the enormous moon. The glowing crescent slices the sky in half.
You shiver, stepping back from the atmospheric glass. There is something unnerving about being perched so high and unable to see the ground. It’s the dead of night and Din found a small, short-term dock to park for the next day or two. The landing pad extends straight out the side of an impossibly tall and slim skyscraper. You can feel the gentle sway of the building as the high altitudinal winds push and pull the structure.
The late arrival meant you two had to drag yourselves from the comfort of Din’s cot to prepare for landing. A yawn overtakes you and you fist your hands in your eye sockets, trying to rub the sleep away.
“Let’s go back to bed. We can catch a few hours of sleep before morning” Din says.
He places a hand on the small of your back and guides you back to his captain’s quarters.
You flop down on the cot and Din climbs in behind you. You hiss and stiffen when the cold beskar touches you.
“Sorry” Din mumbles, dragging the blanket over you to protect you from his armor.
“I don’t know how you sleep in that” you murmur. Din huffs a small laugh.
“It feels better on than off.”
You have forgotten that walking around helmetless and armor-less is still new to Din. You have noticed that when the armor is on, he’s calmer. Still and solid, he moves with the grace and confidence that impenetrable steel provides. Without the armor, Din always seems…shifty. Skittish and on high alert, like a prized thoroughbred. You suppose that is the price you pay for being married to a stallion.
“Do you ever get nervous before a job?” you ask tentatively.
“I used to, but not anymore.”
“How do you manage it all? All I can think about are all the things that could go wrong, all the ways that I could screw up…” you chew your lip. You feel out of depth compared to the seasoned warrior beside you.
“Years of training, years of practice, and making many, many mistakes” Din says quietly. “It’s no different than you practicing medicine. Do you get nervous before treating a patient? Do you ever doubt your skills?”
You ponder that for a moment. You haven’t felt inadequate about your skills since medical school.
“No. I don’t. But healing is in my bones. It’s my calling. But this—“ as you gesture at nothing in particular. “This feels foreign to me. I’m afraid I’m going to fail you. Fail us.”
Din hugs you tighter against himself, tucking your head into the notch between his shoulder and helmet.
“Just say the word, and we won’t go. I’ll find another way to bring Azucar down. I’ll find a way for us to start our life together.”
The smooth leather fingers of Din’s glove stroke your shoulder as his words settle over your mind. Not entirely put at ease, but your eyelids grow heavy anyways and you finally fall asleep.
**********************
The next morning, you feel like a cocktail of excitement, fear, and anticipation. Grabbing your things, your plan is to first find a banking center to pull some funds from your medic pension. Then, you’ll need to hunt down a spa that can somehow scrub years of grim off. Finally, you must buy something to suitable wear. Perhaps a gown or dress of some sort.
You smile to yourself at the thought of Din’s reaction to seeing you in a gown. He has never seen you dressed in any sort of evening wear or finery. Shit, he’s never seen you with makeupon.
You look around the ship to tell him you’ll be gone for most of the day, but he’s nowhere inside. A muddled string of colorful curses in Mando’a trickles in from outside.
Din has been largely pissed off the last couple of weeks trying and failing to locate the source of the latest electrical issues plaguing Pathfinder. You walk down the loading ramp and find him on his hands and knees, upper half buried inside the bowels of the ship. He’s banging away at something while muttering to himself. You stop to admire the sight of his muscular lower-half hanging out of the ship.
You’re about to call out to him again, but feeling playful, you impulsively cock your arm back and smack his ass with a loud CRACK. Din jolts forward in surprise, banging his helmet somewhere underneath. You let out a whoop of laughter and immediately sprint off around the side of the ship.
You make it around the other side and skitter to a stop, listening. Your heart is pounding with anticipation. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins and you whip your head around left and right looking for him. You expected him to be right behind you on your tail.
But he’s vanished.
Panicking a little, yet also titillated at doing something verywicked, you squat down to look under the ship. Nothing. The work mat where he was kneeling only moments ago is empty and the silence of the air settles ominously around you.
Fuck, your hand throbs where you smacked him. You are going to pay dearly for that.
“I know you’re out there!” you call out.
Silence.
Deciding to turn back to the front of Pathfinder, a dark form soundlessly drops directly behind you. A whoosh of cool air licks your back, startling you.
Before you can jolt away, a firm grip takes hold of you and yanks you swiftly back. In a tumble of arms and legs, Din flips you face up and collapses on top of you with a heavy thud. He pins your wrists above your head, and cradles your head with other with practiced ease.
You let out a peal of surprised laughter and beam pleasantly at the midnight visor two inches from your face, staring you down.
“How’s your butt feel?” you purr to him, feeling exceedingly brave despite your precarious position.
“Not as bad as yours is gonna feel” he growls back.
“Hmm” you roll your hips up, grinding your crotch against his.
“You are literallya pain in my ass” he snarls, but then groans deep as you start moving your hips up and down, an innocent smile on your face as you rut against his hard length.
He withdraws his arm from its protective position behind your head and finds the edge of your top. Din slips his hand underneath and slowly slides up your bare stomach. His fingertips pause at the base of your chest band. You squirm under him, arching your back to encourage him. He gives in and slides his calloused hands under the band, cupping your breast, squeezing hard as you sigh with content. Your stiffened peak presses deep into his palm.
This will escalate quickly and you have so much shit to get done today.
“I need to go. It’s going to take me all day to get ready, but I’ll be back in time to leave.” You wiggle out from beneath him and stand up, smoothing down your shirt.
“All day? What could possibly take all day?” Incredulous, Dins stands up too, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, and casually shifts his weight to his back leg.
“Slut school. Gotta brush up for tonight” you quip.
“Yeah? You teaching it?”
“Ooh” you narrow your eyes at him at his low blow. “You’re just sore because I got you good. Not my fault, you were wagging it out there at me.”
You saunter up to him, place both hands on the sides of his helmet and tip his head down. You place a sweet kiss to his forehead.
You try to step back, but his arms snap out and wrap around your waist, towing you gently back to him for a long embrace. He lowers his head to your ear and whispers “be safe, please. See you soon” and with a cautionary squeeze, lets you go.
Turning to walk away, you hear the high-pitched crack before you feel a blinding, stinging pain bloom on your ass cheek. “OW!” you cry out and frantically start rubbing your bottom, trying to soothe the sting away.
You whirl around and give Din an indignant glare as he crosses his arms over his massive chest and emits a dark chuckle.
“Don’t start shit you can’t handle sweetheart” he rumbles.
You growl at him, but turn back around to gather your things and set out. Your butt cheek still burns, but the memory of Din lurching forward and banging his head was worth it. A huge grin breaks out across your face.
**********************
You walk through the front doors of the spa and are enveloped in a blanket of cool, artificial air control. There is so much to take in, your senses overload as you look around the reception area. The walls are covered in white, glittery stone that shimmers in the tasteful lighting. Water trickles down the wall from some unseen source, pinging off the rocks at the bottom. Lit candles on the desk give off a flowery aroma that is delicate and foreign to your nose.
You approach the expansive front desk and the female sitting behind it stands up to greet you with a friendly smile. She is striking. Her skin is porcelain white and equally platinum hair swept back into an elegant chignon. Her eyes are of such a light blue, they are almost transparent, framed by white lashes and eyebrows.
“Welcome to Serenity, how can we help you today?” her Basic drips out of her mouth like honey. Her customer service skills are excellent as she doesn’t bat an eye at your grubby appearance. You look like an alley cat dragged in from a mud fight and has no business being here.
“Um—” you shyly start, unsure on what you need or what to ask for. You decide to tell her that you are accompanying your husband tonight to the Aura for an important business meeting. Having never been before, you don’t want to embarrass him in front of his associates.
“Ah. Of course, of course” the receptionist purrs. She walks out from behind the desk and motions for you to follow her back.
“Let’s do our deluxe spa package, which includes whole-body polish and massage, as well as full face and hair styling….” She elaborates as you follow her into a low-lit dressing room. She plucks a fluffy robe from an immaculate stack on the shelf and tells you to undress.
“Do you already have something to wear?” she asks, while a discerning eye suspiciously evaluates your attire.
“Uh, no. I’ll need to buy something too, but I have the credits” you stammer, glancing down at your filthy appearance as you disrobe. You are starting to feel out of your depth and second-guessing this plan. You are a medic and a solider, not some fancy courtesan. No one is going to notice you, much less a fearsome drug lord.
“No worries. I know just the right tailor” she sing songs. “He makes the most beautiful gowns and with your body….” as her eyes appraisingly run down your naked form, “You’ll look stunning. I’ll let him know that he should be expecting a customer when we are finished up with you here.”
She smiles reassuringly to you as she takes your clothes and helps you step into the warm robe. You sigh deeply as you wrap it around yourself and snuggle your nose into the fluffy collar. It smells of freshly laundered cotton and lilac.
This probably won’t work, you think to yourself. But at least the pampering will be fun.
**********************
Four torturous hours later, it was definitely notfun.
You are not sure what your expectations were – maybe a bath and massage? You got that for sure, but then a whole lot more than you bargained for. An entire team of young females and a few droids dressed in severe uniforms scrubbed, sanded, waxed, and tanned your entire body into radiant submission. Your skin practically sparkles and shines – nails perfectly sculpted and painted. Your hair washed and styled expertly to make the most of its natural color and texture. You gasped when you saw your face. The makeup beautifully enhanced all of your features. Not-overly done, but expensive looking indeed.
Butstars, was the process long and tedious. The worst part was the waxing. After a pert a pert attendee finished stripping your legs, she spread your thighs apart. Before you caught on, she had quickly laid down a hot, thick strip of honeyed wax over the curly hairs between your legs.
And fucking ripped it off.
Despite your serious protests, they assured you that all high-born females do this and wouldn’t be caught dead otherwise. Begrudging, you agreed to let her continue and she proceed to take all your hair off, leaving your nether regions stripped, puffy, and naked as a mole rat.
When the attendant’s back was turned, you reached a tentative hand down to feel between your legs. Your fingertips brushed the soft, bare skin. Oh. You can feel everything. Din is going to lose his damn mind when he discovers this. A warm heat spreads up your chest and neck imagining Din’s hands touching you there.
After leaving the spa, you make one last stop at the tailor’s, having acquired an address from the receptionist when you left. A squat, elderly man dressed in a fine silk surcoat greets you at the door.
After a brief, almost dismissive introduction, he hands you a huge package. The parcel is wrapped in layers and layers of thick tissue and tied neatly with a bow.
“Thank you very much. But…shouldn’t I try it on first?” You ask disbelievingly as you hand him a stack of credits. The elderly man waves a hand away and gently ushers you out the door.
“No need, no need” he cheerily tuts at you in an accent you can’t quite place. “You take this and go, it will fit just fine. You’ll see, ok? Good bye!” and with that, the door slides closed behind you.
You stand outside awkwardly, wondering what sort of Jedi magic the receptionist employed to ensure the tailor had everything he needed to make you a gown. What color was it? Was it long or short? You could not tell from the packaging. What if it doesn’t fit?
You glace at your chronometer. Too late now. Resigned to the fact you were probably in possession of one hideously expensive, atrocious-looking gown, you hail a taxi speeder back to the ship.
**********************
“You’re late” Din grumbles as you dash up the ramp to Pathfinder. You have just enough time to get changed before you two need to head out to the club. As you pass by him, you stop, a tender smile growing on your lips as you look down at him.
He’s sitting on the floor, back propped up against the hull and dutifully shining the last of his armor. The gorgeous metal glints in the evening sunset as he reverently rubs an oiled cloth over the surface. He’s got on his good black boots – leather polished and shined, scuff marks banished. His black duraweave has been washed, any rip has been painstakingly repaired.
That’s when you spy a brand new cape hanging on a hook by his head. The heavy wool dyed a luxurious, inky black. You let out a low whistle as you reach out the finger the rich folds in what must have been an incredibly expensive purchase.
You sink down next to him, your gaze softens. This considerate man that has spent the better part of the day getting cleaned up for tonight. A Mandalorian knight in shining armor, all for you.
He doesn’t look at you yet, but he knows you are taking it all in. Pride swells deep within him as you notice all his efforts. Din silently passes the rag over his pauldron again and again. Your heart squeezes tight and you wish you could take off his helmet and kiss him deeply, showing him how much this humble act means to you.
You settle instead for reaching out to gently lift his hand, bringing his knuckles to your mouth. You rub your lips over them. Pressing kisses, your breath ghosts over his skin.
Din stills and looks up at you, his breath a calm rise and fall. He watches you press the palm of his hand to your cheek. You look…..different he thinks. He has never seen you wear face-paint, or whatever it’s called, before. It takes him a moment to compare this new face to the one he has memorized.
“Hello my love” you croon into his calloused palm.
“I don’t need much more time to get ready. Just need to change into my dress. You almost done polishing your armor?”
“Almost” Din replies. “Wanted to make sure my appearance was acceptable to my employer” he playfully tosses out as he watches your face light up. You rise and head to the captain’s quarters to change.
“Oh most definitely, an act which will be richly rewarded for” you wink at him and sashay out of his sight. Din sighs, and standing up too, re-attaches his pauldron.
**********************
Din hired an expensive, closed top speeder to make a proper entrance in. You look over at Din, watching how the glow of the city lights melt over the reflective surface of his helmet. He looks regal in his impenetrable wall of beskar. His new black cape is tucked neatly into his chest plate, sweeping over his broad shoulders and down his back, cloaking him in darkness. His blaster is holstered on one hip, the Darksaber clipped to the other.
You frown, puzzled over why he decided to take the saber tonight. Din is still wary about using the weapon. He doesn’t trust the blade yet and you sense he’s still hesitant about its power. You shake off the creepy aura the saber seems to emit. Perhaps Din felt the blade was safer with him than locked up on Pathfinder.
You smooth your hands down the front of your cloak, luxuriating in the supple fabric. Din hasn’t seen your dress yet, as the tailor thoughtfully provided this extraordinary cloak to guard against the slight chilly evening. You gasped when you saw it and swung it around your shoulders, clasping the delicate, filigree leaf at your throat, relishing how its billows elegantly out to the floor.
You nervously pet the silver vambraces. Din helped snap them on and synced the location device with his own. They warm to your touch and give you a sense of grounding security as your nerves skitter and fizzle. Running your fingers over the embellished surface, you imagine how you will inch your way to Azucar’s posse.
You wonder how you will walk that knife’s edge of tonight’s act. How will you appear as a courtesan, looking to contract your services for the evening, without actually doing so. All the while, inching your way to the drug lord’s inner circle and immersing yourself long enough for Din to gather the intelligence he needs.
Your initial excitement for this plan is waning fast as the reality arrives and the danger of what could go wrong.
It’s not too late, I can back out of this at any moment and Din will be relieved.
Din see’s you nervously squirming and places a gloved hand over yours.
“Don’t fidget. It makes you look nervous when you have no reason to be.”
You let loose a breath and nod, peering out of the dark glass window as the skyscrapers whoosh by.
Din cocks his helmet at you. He knows you are scared and out of your comfort zone. He squeezes your hands reassuringly.
“It’s going to be alright. Remember what I told you. Keep them talking about themselves, don’t volunteer information about yourself. And don’t drink anything here tonight. Not even straight from the bartender. Not even water.”
You turn your head and raise your eyebrows at him. “Not even water? Why?”
“Drugs” Din scoffs. “Sedatives, aphrodisiacs, amongst others. Hold a glass in your hand to blend in, but do notdrink from it.”
Din is attempting to be helpful, but this only makes your stomach churn.
**********************
The speeder pulls up to the club’s entrance. The jetty is hundreds of meters above ground, yet the enormous skyscraper continues to loom above painted in obsidian and gold. Hordes of expensive aircrafts crowd the entrance as humans and species spill from their transporters and head towards the main doors.
Ever the gentleman, Din exits the speeder first to walk around and opens your door for you, extending his hand.
“Are you ready for this?” he tilts his helmet at you, as you take his hand and step out of the speeder. You snake your hand into the crook of his elbow and give him a false smile.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The wide air bridge connects to a towering set of gold doors flung wide open. Directly behind is the grand foyer. As you and Din enter, you gaze up in wonder at the mammoth chandelier. Dripping with thousands of crystals, they catch and scatter light like liquid fire. A staircase made of polished black stone sweeps guests up to the large elevator bay. The nightclub is at the penthouse level, occupying the top four floors.
“Wow” you whisper in awe, as you take in the impressive entrance. You have never seen such a display of wealth and opulence. It makes you feel even more like a foolish charlatan.
The two of you stroll to the foot of the stairs and begin the long ascent. You lift the edge of your cloak and dress with your free hand, to avoid face planting on the steps and starting this evening off with a bang.
Solid glass elevators, cut in facets like precious gems, slide silently down rails. Glittering, the enormous elevators open and the two of you are ushered in along with a large group. With a sickening drop, the elevator shoots up with a quiet whir. The seconds stretch on and people whisper amongst their group, trying not to stare at Din. He squeezes your hand in quiet reassurance.
The elevator doors hiss open and the club-goes pour forth. Din gently tows you out and you stare at the gaping expanse of the club before you. A staircase yawns wide to the massive dance floor. Technicolor lights swirl and pivot from huge overhead rigs. Music is pumped steadily through the sound systems and the bass thumps around in your chest in time with the beat. The room is edged with floor after floor of booths, game tables, bars, and secured rooms for what you can guess is private entertainment. There must be thousandsof beings here.
You swerve off to the right to drop your cloak at coat check while Din walks towards the railing to take in the space. A man of discipline and routine, he enters every room and performs a security sweep the same way, every time. His eyes drift left to right, top to bottom. He notes and files away all possible entrances and exits first. Then, he estimates the crowd size, looking for obvious disturbances and threats. The people appear to be behaving – entertained by the music, dancing, and drugs. They also appear to be unarmed, except for club security and the VIP’s privately hired guardians. They loom about, serious and imposing in the roped off sections of the mezzanine level.
He assesses the guards and their weapons. Older, less reliable blasters, or newer models?
Older, prone to jamming.
Are they alert and disciplined? Or are they distracted by their environment and vices?
Attentive and watchful, these beings are well-trained.
Din meticulously documents each bit of information, ruthlessly deciding what can be used to gain the upper hand or exploit a weakness. Din turns his attention away from the main floor to look for you when you suddenly appear, walking confidently across the hall towards him.
His breath hitches in his throat, all external information ceases to exist as he takes you in.
I am so fucked tonight.
Your dress is made from the sheerest chiffon, dyed to a deep sapphire blue. Panels of fabric pinched at your shoulders plunge down your chest, barely covering your breasts before meeting in a deep v at your navel. A silvered belt rests low on your waist, cinching in the delicate fabric. From the belt, your voluminous skirt ripples out in waves, pooling on the floor and flowing out and around you with each step.
The final touch is a single, devastating high slit that travels up the length of your leg, past your thigh and ending at your waist. Each time your leg parts, the slit allows a peak of the tiny, beaded string of your underwear.
You strut your way up to him, one corner of your mouth hiked up in a wry smile as you observe Din staring you down, transfixed. Stopping in front of him, you innocently twist your shoulders around to give him a peak of the back, which there is none. The dress plunges down, ending to a low point above the valley of your bottom.
“Well? Do you like my dress?” You purr softly at him.
Din tilts his helmet up and down the length of you.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
You blink at him. “What do you mean? This…this is it. This is the whole dress.”
“That’s not a dress, its two socks and a belt.”
Truthfully, you knew the dress was shocking and revealing, but that was the whole point. Yet Din’s reaction irked you.
“Normal husbands would say ‘You look lovely dear.’ But no, you’re acting like I’m naked” you reply hotly.
“Youarenaked” he heatedly whispers back. “And stop arguing with me like we are an old, married couple.”
“Weare an old, married couple you insufferable man” you hiss.
“Not tonight. How am supposed to protect you, looking like that?” he jerks his head at your attire.
“If I’m to get close to Azucar, I need to catch the attention of his entourage” you remind him.
He snorts.
Get attention. Fuck, every piece of slime in this place will be trying to get in between those legs.
Din stays silent, the turmoil of his thoughts guarded by his stoic stance, playing the part of the devoted bodyguard.
He should just throw your ass over his shoulder and stomp out of here, straight back to the ship. But you will be hurt and furious if he does that.
“Let’s go!” you command in falsely cheerful tone, pointedly ignoring his sour mood. Without waiting for Din’s retort, you descend stairs towards the main floor, intent on mingling with the other guests.
**********************
This is not going well.
You have chatted up a few beings and humans here and there, even politely declined several offers to join a group in the private rooms. But you have encountered only few guards from Azucar’s entourage and none have seemed interested. For the most part, they haven’t left the safety of their roped-off section.
Not that it matters because Din is, oh stars, Din is something else right now. His barely contained rage seeps out of him in hot waves – searing into any humanoid man that gets near you.
So far, he’s told about a dozen to fuck off, shoved one, and you pretty sure almost decapitated another. Baring his fangs, he is acting so fucking rabid and possessive over you in ways you have never seen before. You are about to lose your mind.
Fuck, you havegot to do something about this man before he explodes, murders every living being here and ruins any chance to gain any useful information about Azucar.
You tilt your head back, pretending to take another sip of champagne. Your gaze falls to the first mezzanine level above the massive dance floor. The private suites line the exterior wall and you watch dozens of humans and creatures duck in and out all night.
Huh.
The night is still young. You figure you have plenty of time to see if you can sweeten Din’s mood a bit. A bit of soothing balm to calm him down, remind him of who you love and belong to.
You grab Din’s hand and cock your head back towards upstairs, a wordless command in your expression. He curtly nods at you once and silently follows you as you cut through the crowd. Curious patrons part immediately for the Mandalorian – whispering and staring in awe at the bodyguard clad in beskar.
You make your way towards one of the private rooms, pressing the discrete button on the panel as the thick door slides open and you step in, Din following behind you. Once inside, you swirl around and quickly study the control panel. Finding what you think is correct combination, you press a few buttons and the door slides close and locks securely in place.
The room is richly appointed in dark crimson velvet, an oversized, plush sofa on one end, a low table with awaiting wine glasses. You find the light controls and dim them to the lowest setting. Din needs the comforting shroud of darkness to feel at ease in a public place.
You walk up to him and wordlessly press your palms on his chest plate, making him back up a few steps. You press again, and he sinks down onto the thick velvet sofa.
“What are you doing?” Din rasps out, his mechanical voice raking out as he studies you from his seat. You are his gleaming sapphire nestled in a box of velvet.
“Turning your mood around my love. I can’t have my Mandalorian guard snarling and biting at everyone.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about” he huffs indignantly.
Your lips curls at his bullshit answer. You slide your hands into the slit of the dress, parting the cascading folds of the fabric to reveal to him the impossibly small, beaded underwear. Eyes locked on his visor, you hook your thumbs into the sides and leisurely slide the panties down, stepping daintily out of them.
You bring the delicate undergarment to your nose and inhale deeply, enjoying every moment of Din’s reaction. He visibly stiffens and groans as he watches you breathe in your own musky scent.
“Get over here” he grits out, spreading his legs farther apart and adjusting himself.
“Isthat how you talk to your employer?” you tease and saunter over to him.
You lift your leg and slide onto his lap, straddling him. The feather-light chiffon skirt spreads and drifts down and all around you. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you slowly drag your hips up and back over his rock-hard bulge. Din moans deeply and tilts his head forward, resting on your chest as his hands wrap around your waist.
“I can’t…I can’t fucking stand the thought of anyone touching you. Not tonight looking the way you do, not ever.” Din admits, voice gravely and low, enjoying you rocking up and down his crotch, feeling your wetness begin to soak the front of his pants.
“Shh…I know” You hush him. “I think you need a little reminder of who I belong to” your purr down at him.
Din’s breathing is ragged. He loves this – fucking loves hearing you talk like this.
You reach down and grab his hands and take off his leather gloves, pulling on each finger to loosen them slightly before sliding them all the way off. Watching his visor intently, you slip his hands into the slit of your dress and guide his fingers to your center.
He starts, noticeably surprised when his fingertips meet your bare, butter-soft and butter-slick folds.
“What…what did you do to yourself today, cyar'ika?” he says hoarsely.
“Got an “A” in slut school.”
He groans as you press your hips down on his hand, urging him to explore you. He slides a hand down, palming your naked mound, fingers gently gliding over your wet seam. He moves further down, his index finger pausing and teasing at your entrance.
Surprising you, he continues on until his finger tip finds that tight rim of muscle and swirls around the edge a few times. You shiver and shyly tuck your head into his shoulder as he pets and explores all of this newly naked skin.
Your clit throbs impatiently with a greedy need to be rubbed. Din’s calloused fingers only stroke the fire in the pit of your belly more.
“Din…” you let loose with a shudder.
“I know” he husks.
Din flips you on your back, pinning you in place. With a hard stare of his helmet, he slowly rucks up the layers of your skirt to your waist. Heat prickles your chest as he spreads your legs apart. The cool air kisses your nakedness and you fight the urge to cover yourself from his unbridled stare. Eyes closed, you hear a faint hiss followed by a clank when his helmet meets the floor.
You suck in a harsh breath when you feel a pair of warm lips kiss the inside of your thigh – a calloused hand stroking the skin of the other. Din continues to press kisses into your skin, working towards your center. So close to where you ache for him, he nuzzles the stubble of his scruffy face right where your leg meets your hip. Ticklish and teasing, your legs to quiver and jerk. Din chuckles knowingly at the effect he has over you.
Finally,finally, he lowers his face to you and drags the wide, rough flat of his tongue up your center. You arch your back in bliss. You can feel every tiny detail of his face and lips. The scrape of his facial hair, the wet plush of his lips, the curve of his nose.
He licks of few wide stripes before flicking his tongue over your tiny nub. You jerk and whimper at the intensity of the touch.
“Fuck…you are so soft…and bare” he marvels as he nuzzles his face in your in folds.
“Din…what are you doing” you gasp as he spreads your growing gloss all over your sex with his mouth and tongue.
“Enjoying myself” he murmurs, dragging his lips back and forth over your clit. “Gods, you feel so good like this.”
Din seals his lips over your clit and suckles gently, alternating between little sucks and flicks until you a squirming, wet mess beneath his hot mouth. You paw at his head, his hair, anything to anchor you as you grind your hips into his face, begging him silently for more.
His lips leave you for an instant to wet two fingers. When his mouth returns to your nub, he sinks two fingers inside you roughly. You tense and moan at the stinging stretch, delighting as it fizzles to a low, hot burn. He pumps a few times, curling his fingers in search of your favorite spot.
He finds it. That spongy bit of flesh with ridges like a peach pit, already puffy and swollen for him. He presses on it hard, and ripples of pleasure shoot out from your core. You whimper as he starts his relentless attack, curling his fingers over and over again, coaxing you to the edge. Your legs are quivering, eyes screwed shut as your mind goes blank. All you can focus on is that delicious pressure building deep in you.
Your muscles seize up and you hold your breath as the pressure rushes towards that razor sharp peak. Teetering on the edge, you lungs burn and it rises and rises, pushing to that blinding point of oblivion. Din feels you clenching and he sucks hard on your clit, flicking furiously with his tongue as he shoves you over the top.
Bliss erupts from you center and you clamp down hard, release rushing out of you as you cum on his fingers, still thrusting in and out of you.
Waves of spasms wash over your body as you gasp for air. Your body sinks down deep into the soft couch. You hum in contentment as the waves of chemicals coat your soul, white washing you in pleasure.
You hardly register the shift of weigh before Din hooks your legs over his shoulders. The kiss of cold metal against your skin surprises enough to open your eyes. Din leans his heavy body forward, pushing your knees deep into your own chest, opening your center wide and angling it up. He penetrates you slowly until he hits the bottom of your messy sex.
He looks down and watches himself pull out of you, his cock wet and glistening. He begins to thrust hard in and out of you, hitting the back of your womb with each firm snap of his hips.
Oh gods, the position lets him hit something deep inside you and your cry out. Panting and grunting, Din has you folded in half and spearing you on his cock, but it’s not what you want.
Notthistime, anyway. You want to feel close to him, for reasons you cannot explain yet.
“Wait…stop” you gasp, unable to get a full breath from being crushed in half.
Din stills and pulls out, letting your legs fall back down.
“What’s wrong?” he pants heavily, his eyes filled with concern. “Too much?”
“No..no it’s good. But I want it different. Like this…”
You grab his chest plate and pull him down to you, welcoming the heavy weight of his body. You wrap your legs around his hips and help guide him back into you. He lowers his mouth to yours in a tender kiss as he fully seats himself deep inside you.
Pulling back, he arches an eyebrow high while regarding you thoughtfully.
“Is this what you wanted?”
“Uh-huh” you hum, giving him a soft, sweet smile. “The good, old-fashioned way.”
Din tuts and kisses you tenderly while he makes deep little thrusts inside you, building his rhythm slowly back up.
“Its always goodwith you mesh’la” he croons into your lips.
You laugh and bury your face into the cowl of his cape, as he lets loose a choked noise when you muscles contract around him. You let your body go to mush as he reaches his rhythm, rocking with him and taking each curl of his hips.
Creamy-soft and pliant, he pounds into your center, making you a perfect mold of him until his vision blurs and he can feel his release near as his balls draw up tight. You nibble on his neck and ear, and any other patch of skin you can reach to encourage him. Feeling saucy, you whisper some shockingly dirty things into the shell of his ear.
Finally, he stutters and slams into you, squirting waves of hot cum deep inside. Your walls squeeze him tight, milking him, wanting every last drop deep inside you. Spent and wrung dry, Din collapses on top of you, his head nestled into the crook of your neck as he pants for air.
“Fu…fuck me” Din groans out, wrapping his arms tight around you.
“Just did handsome…” you nuzzle into his hair.
**********************
Din is still sprawled on your chest, limbs languid and basking in the post-orgasm glow. Din’s hand has slithered under the panel of fabric of your dress to cup a breast. Occasionally, he sweeps a thumb over the nub of your nipple, coaxing it to harden and pebble with the goosebumps. You giggle at the touch and Din smooths the tickle away with his flat, broad palm. His cock is soft and tender now, but still nestled inside you. Din likes how this feels. He likes smothering you with his body and keeping you filled.
The fact that you will walk away this evening with his cum trickling down your inner thighs washes away the ferocious jealously he felt watching those other males approach you. He doesn’t normally feel possessive over you. But something about tonight’s ruse, your dress, the stress of the job…it was too much.
“Din…” you breathe softly.
“Hmm?”
“Do you think we just made a baby?”
Din’s body goes unnaturally still.
“…what?” he croaks out.
“I forgot to mention that other errand I did today. I had my implant removed.”
Incredulous, Din takes a moment to let the words sink in. He rises and props himself up on one elbow so he can stare down at your face.
“Mesh’la…why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
You snort.
“You didn’t tell me we were getting married. So, consider this my payback.”
For a panicked moment, you think Din might be upset with you. But then your eyes search his and you behold a man that cherishes you above all else. Adoringly, his eyes soften as he strokes the back of his hand down the side your face. He lowers his lips to yours and brushes a kiss across your lips. He pulls away just enough to murmur into your lips—
“I’m not sure it works that quickly, but nothing will give me greater joy to see your belly grow with my child.”
You beam up at him and briefly imagine him cradling your swollen belly. Yet, as much as you want to stay holed up in this tiny room forever, it dawns on you that tonight was a total failure. You chew your bottom lip.
“Were not going back out there, are we?”
“No.”
“So, since the mission is over, do we debrief? How did I do?”
Din hums, scratching his jaw.
“Well, let’s start with a review of the evening’s events. You showed up wearing this, giving me a near-heart attack. We didn’t get anywhere near Azucar, bailed halfway through the evening, and decided fucking is more fun anyways.”
You giggle into his chest, burying your face.
“So, what you’re trying to say is, tonight was a raging success?”
Din’s arms give you a squeeze and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“What I’m saying is…you’re a terrible spy. And, you’re fired.”
“Oh Din, how you flatter me. I fear I shall swoon” you tease him.
“This is the way.”
He grins at you and you throw back your head and laugh. Gods, I love this man.
“Come on” he pats your hip softly. “Let’s get your coat and go, I’ll let the driver know that we are ready to leave.”
You sigh and reluctantly sit up, sad to leave the safe embrace of Din’s arms but he’s right. There is no point staying any longer. And the sooner you leave, the sooner you both can get back to the ship, tug on one of his sweaters, and curl into his naked body for a long night’s sleep.
**********************
You tell Din to wait by the front entrance while you go and pick up your cloak, sliding your ticket out from your silver cuff to hand to the droid. Din walks over to the railing overlooking the vast expanse of the dance floor below. He leans on the rail, one ankle casually crossed over the other, observing the crowd below while he waits for you.
You are waiting at the counter, a thin, vicious voice speaks right into your ear, way too close for comfort and startling you as you spin around.
His skin is scaly and reptilian-like. He lacks discernable ears or eyelids, and a voice decoder is embedded in his throat, to help his anatomy speak Basic.
“I heard you’re interested in Azucar’s attentions tonight, yesss?” he slithers out, tongues flicking out and sliding over his lower protruding lip.
You gulp and try to push down the revulsion rising in your throat. Trying your best to fix your face into a placid expression, you reply—
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve decided to retire early tonight.”
Your eyes frantically look for Din, but he’s all the way across the grand entrance, back facing you while he’s surveying the club.
Fuck, he can’t see me.
“Not anymore…” His voice snakes quietly out. He slides a firm hand on your lower back to start urging you along. You plant your feet firmly.
“No, I’m sorry I’m leaving now…”
“You’re leaving with me, whore” he hisses back as he brushes back the edge of his coat to reveal to a holstered blaster. The nonverbal gesture clearly communicating you have little choice in the matter.
Your eyes flicker up to his face, your blood has turned to ice in your veins and you have lost all abilities to hide your panic.
He shrugs and almost apologetically hisses out
“Boss wants what he wantsss.”
Soundlessly, you walk away with him. You glance over your shoulder, screamingat Din in silent terror, trying to somehowget his attention as the two of you disappear into the crowd.
Din feels it.
He senses something is wrong and he turns around to locate you at the coat check. He suddenly feels a tightness in his chest and a dread sprouting deep in his belly.
But he can’t find you. His visor snaps quickly to the left and right, but you’re gone.
“Target’s name is Azucar” Talon begins and Din audibly groans, rolling his head back and to the side in annoyed recognition.
“I’ve heard of him” Din says, his tone laced with disdain. He leans back in the booth and crosses and ankle over the opposite knee.
Talon nods in solemn agreement and takes another sip of his wine. Turning to you, he continues on and you realize that the rest of this conversation is for your benefit only.
“Azucar is a spice dealer. He rakes in billions of credits a year enslaving and exploiting entire towns to harvest spice and export it. He’s the highest grossing seller and exporter of spice in the local galaxy.”
Billions of credits.
You arestartled by the thought of a single private citizen having that much wealth and power.
“He’s been eluding the Guild for years and creating quite the reputation for himself. He’s a menace and his power and influence grows too strong. I’ve never seen a bounty so large on a single individual before.”
“With a reward that high, why has no one brought him in yet?” you ask.
“They have, but no one has come back…alive” Din softly replies.
The three of you are silent as you ponder the implication of what Din just said. Bounty hunters havegone after him, but no one has survived. Well, shit….
“That’s right,” Talon continues. “Apparently, Karga’s handed out many tracking pucks to hunters over the years, only to send them to certain death.”
You swallow a mouthful of food and jerk your chin at Din.
“How come you’ve never tried to bring him in?”
Din looks down and shakes his head slowly back and forth, fingers idly circling the rim of his water glass.
“He has an army of bodyguards and snitches. No one talks without him listening. Risks were just too high.”
“Until now” Talon drawls out.
Din’s eyes slide over to Karrde and narrow at him in warning.
“Whatever that pea-brain of yours is thinking Karrde, forget it. She’s not going on a hunt with me. Not now, not ever.”
“You flatter me, as always” Talon grins back at Din, before shrugging his great hefty shoulders and shoveling in a forkful of food before speaking—
“However, your little lady made a bargain with me. And now, it’s time to pay up. I took the job on the condition that I could get it done. There is no backing out. Fortunately, I have a plan. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes” you blurt out, at the same time Din snaps a resounding No. Din glares at you and you glare right back. He emits a long-suffering sigh and looks away, relenting.
Talon’s eyes dance between the two of you with delight before continuing.
“In a month from now, my spies tell me Azucar will be taking up residence at his safe house on Coruscant. There, he frequents the Aura at least one a week to enjoy the comforts of the escorts. It’s the only time he ever leaves the safety of his compound and is at his most vulnerable.”
“What’s the “Aura?” you ask curiously.
“It’s a colossal night club. Everyone who’s anyone goes there for all night gambling, drinking, and whoring. It’s very exclusive.” Ha. You’d bet your pension that Talon’s frequented the business more than a few times.
Din snorts. “So what’s your big plan then? Kill him at the nightclub? I’ll get cut down by blaster fire from fifty armed guards.”
“No, no” Karrde replies back. “Of course not. The plan is simple. You and your wife go to Aura. She pretends to be a high-class escort and you play her Mandalorian bodyguard, giving her credibility to her value and status. She catches Azucar’s eye for a private “session” and slips him something, knocking him unconscious. You spirit him away and no one is the wiser.”
Your jaw slackens while Din stares at Talon, his eyebrows nearly escaping his forehead. You are both too stunned at his brazen plan to speak.
Talon is busy cutting a huge slice of meat to notice your shocked expressions before he casually comments—
“You two have a month to prepare” before he tilts his head at Din. “And If I were you, I’d start learning how to use that Darksaber.”
************************
“No.”
You and Din are sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing one another. The chef sent a heaping plate of dinner so Din could eat in private. Meanwhile, you were eyeing the decadent, fat slice of dark chocolate cake before you. Compliments of Talon, no doubt.
Din delivers his curt response to you without hesitation. As if he’d everentertain an asinine operation like the one Talon proposed.
“It’s risky, I know” you start again. “But at least considerit. Azucar is too well protected in his compound, so a covert operation makes the most sense and he won’t expect someone crazy enough to attempt it.”
“What happens when things spiral out of control?” Din asks softly, cocking his head at you.
“What happens when that bastard pins you down and has his way with you? You think I’m going to risk that mother fucker touchingyou?” Din grits out between clenched teeth.
Disgust rolls down his body at the thought of that sadistic drug dealer rubbing his murderous hands over his wife. You crying out, panicking, as things quickly escalate. He’d have no chance to rescue you in time. Not without blowing both your covers and dying by blaster fire.
Over his fucking cold, dead, beskar-clad body.
“I have no purpose Din. I need to help people” your voice cutting off his runaway train of dark thoughts.
“I need to do something. Right now, all I feel like is dead weight by your side. I know you don’t think I’m capable, but I am. I went to boot camp. I can shoot and fight. I wasn’t trained as well as you, but I’m skilled too.”
“I never said you weren’t skilled mesh’la” Din says with pained eyes. “I’m just…” the words failing him. “I lost my parents and the kid. Must I risk losing you too?”
You pause and watch Din draw his knees up and brace them in the crooks of his elbows, hands locked in front. You wonder if Din realizes that he’s already using his body to throw up walls and retreat deep inside his head. There is no armor or helmet to hide behind.
He turns his face to the side - longing and anguish paint his features. You feel grateful in that moment that you’ve been given the gift of his face to finally see his emotions play out.
“Do you miss him?” you ask quietly, knowing the answer.
Din hesitates, his forearms tensing and relaxing.
“Every day.”
The softly spoken reply hangs heavy in the air between you. You heart aches for his loss. You miss the child too, but it is nothing compared to what Din feels. You have been reluctant to bring up Grogu too much, not wanting to further his pain. However, you can offer Din a way to move forward and recapture what he has lost.
“I know he can never be replaced, but with this job, we could make a home somewhere and start a family. You could be….a father again.” Your voice is quiet and full of hope.
Din swallows thickly, his pulse quickens. “Is that what you want?”
You nod your head at him – eyes shining brightly. “It is. And I know you want it too. Let me do this one thing, for us. Let me help.”
Din gives you a sidelong glance and concedes you have made a good point. You are both floating in space, empty of purpose for different reasons. You feel adrift without your calling to ground you. He feels devoid of the family and safety he so desperately craves.
I’m tired, Din admits to himself. Tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of having no name or clan. This job could be his very last. It’s the biggest bounty he’s ever attempted and it’s enough to find a place to settle down, start a real life, and figure out what, in the actualfuck, he’s supposed to do with that Darksaber. He cannot believe he is agreeing to this nonsense.
He blows out a hard breath, cheeks inflating slightly.
“Fine, but we do this my way. This is just an intelligence-gathering mission. You get us close to Azucar so I can observe his guards and collect information. Everyone has a weakness, we just have to find out what his is so I can exploit it.”
You allow yourself the smallest of smiles, not daring to come across anything near what could be described as gloating. If Din catches a whiff of you reveling in this small victory, the stubborn ass would change his mind instantly.
“What about Talon’s idea of me drugging him?”
“No” Din quickly replies. “That’s too risky. Too many things could go wrong. I’ll figure out another way to get to him.”
“There is oneother thing—“
“No. No more.” Din says abruptly, returning to his dinner and pointedly shoveling in a mouthful of food.
You raise an arched eyebrow. “Have I exhausted your capacity for discussing difficult and emotional issues for the day?”
He grunts. “More like the month.”
You give him a rueful smile and decide to let the poor man eat in peace. One must pick their battles. You turn your focus to the enticing dessert before you.
You sink the edge of your fork into the tender, midnight-black crumb cake. Sliding the fork slowly out of your lips, you close your eyes and hum, letting the moist explosion of nutty flavor melt on your tongue.
You cannot remember the last time you had chocolate. Cocoa beans are only grown on terrestrial planets with the right climate, making the beans incredibly rare and expensive. The amount of beans needed to roast, grind, and churn into chocolate liquor adds to the ghastly price. You can only imagine where or how Talon managed to source such a rare treat.
“Din, you have to try this. It’s incredible.”
You open your eyes and look at Din as he eats, or more accurately,inhales, his food. You smile at this man and his distinctive eating habits.
Din approaches eating like one would approach changing spark plugs in a ship. A basic, required task done without fanfare as efficiently as possible. You watch with fascination as Din scoops all the food, without regard to type or texture, into a giant pile and heaves it into his face hole. There is no pausing to savor the tenderness of the meat or the buttery texture of the potatoes.
No, it is slapped together and force fed down. You aren’t even sure if he pauses long enough to take a breath between swallowing.
“Hey, try this” you say as you take a chunk of cake and slide it onto his plate.
“Hmph” he grunts as you. You watch with horror as he scrapes the tender cake into his pile of veggies, potatoes and meat, mashing it all together before shoveling it in his mouth.
“Good” he replies.
“Din, you don’t have to clump it together like that. You can slow down and enjoy each dish, you know.”
“Why? It’s just food cyar’ika. You eat it and shit it out.”
You sigh. “Did you even tastethe cake?”
“No.”
You chuckle. You set your plate down and swipe a big gob of shiny frosting on your finger. You crawl over to Din and climb into his lap. Din smiles at you while you grab his chin and hold your frosting-covered finger up in front of his mouth.
“Humor me. Just try it.”
Din’s smile broadens to something wicked before capturing your finger with his mouth and lewdly sucking it clean. You giggle and squirm at his ridiculous behavior.
“Well?” you eek out between giggles. “Did you like it?”
“Hmm” he grabs your hand and presses a soft kiss into your wrist. “It’s pretty good” he agrees. “Here, let me see your other hand.”
“Why—?” you start to ask as Din brings your other hand up and swiftly grips them tight in one big hand. He leans over you and swipes another glob of frosting. Before you can screech at him, he smears a little bit across your mouth and crashes his lips over yours.
“Argh!” you sputter and laugh as he licks and sucks your lips. His actions soon change from playful to tender as he starts kissing you in earnest. You melt in his arms and gently pull one of your hands from his grip. He relents and you slip a hand around his neck. You open your mouth wider and encourage him to tangle his tongue with yours. Once you have him fully distracted, you carefully reach your other hand out and blindly search for the plate of cake. You find it and sink your fingers in deep in the moist dessert.
You pull back and lock eyes with Din. You give him the most sugary, innocent smile you can manage. Helpless to your charms, his face softens and he gives you a sweet smile back.
Sucker.
You whip your hand around and smash the handful of cake right into the center of his face. Stunned, Din doesn’t move a muscle as you slowly peel your hand away.
Oh stars, you got him good. The crumbs and frosting are confectionary sludge that is smeared down his face in complete ruin. Din remains frozen, absorbing this traitorous act. With incredible composure, Din begins wiping the cake off his face and licking his fingers. You nervously laugh once, but you grow quiet as he continues to clean his face with deadly calm. When his eyes finally slide to yours, you become very, very still.
His eyes are filled with something feral and purposeful. He pauses mid-sucking a finger and gives you an unnerving smirk.
“Bad fucking girl.”
Your eyes blow open wide at the danger in his voice. Unable to form a single syllable, you wait as Din casually lifts you off his lap and leans back against the side of the bed.
He tugs the front of his pants down and pulls himself out. He gathers a glob of cake from his face and smears it over his thick, swollen head. Turning to you, he grips the hinge of your jaw, pulling you closer so your noses almost touch. Looking at your mouth, he pushes a thumb gently into your parted lips. You suck his thumb obediently as he starts suggestively thrusting it slowly in and out. His deep baritone voice come out liked raked coals.
“And now you are going to clean up the mess you made. All of it. Using only this” and he continues to slide his thumb in and out of your wet lips.
You comply.
************************
“Alright, let’s see what this thing can do” Karrde gamely calls out. Standing opposite Din, Talon is holding the beskar spear, ready for a spar.
After a week of flying, the three of you travelled and landed on a small, quiet terrestrial moon for refueling and supplies. The moon was on the way to Coruscantand served as a convenient outpost for long-haul freighters. The post contained little more than landing docks, repair shops, and junkyards. Din and Talon were able to scope out a secluded spot to dock the ship and allow Din to spend a few days training with the saber while you and Talon stocked up on necessities.
It is early morning and the clearing was covered in frozen-stiff moss and grass. Partially encircling the space were enormous pine trees with long trunks that speared into the sky. Grey bellied clouds rolled in overhead and released a fine, freezing mist over the clearing. Tiny droplets cling to Din’s hair, causing the ends to curl at his nape and around his ears. He shifts his weight and the ground crunches like broken glass beneath his feet.
Din nods at Karrde, takes a deep breath and engages the saber. As the blade oozes out, a wave of oily, dark power snakes up his arm.
“Ugh” he scowls. He hates the way the saber feels. It pulsates and snarls, as if it’s alive and plotting a sinister agenda. Din gets the foreboding feeling that every time he uses the saber, ittakes something from him. What, he can’t be sure of. Din is certain that possession of such power must come at a cost. Din wonders what price he’ll have to pay.
“What? What’s wrong?” Karrde asks curiously, his head tilted. He re-adjusts his grip on the spear.
“I’m not sure” Din replies, eyes falling to the dark blade. “Each time I wield the saber, I get this nasty feeling. As if it’s trying to sink claws in—“
Din doesn’t get to finish. He senses a flash of movement and Talon has fallen upon him – circling the great spear over his head and crashing it down on Din.
Din’s reflexes snap awake. He swings the Darksaber up and blocks the spear before using it to shove Talon off him violently.
“Asshole” Din spits.
“Quit your blathering pretty boy and fight” Karrde taunts. Din charges brutally at him. Beskar and saber clash again and again, turning the spear red-hot from the battling.
Karrde is a power fighter. He uses his size and strength to rush at opponents and stun them by attacking hard – overwhelming them with devastating blows. Din, however, is a clever and deft. He quickly picks up on Karrde’s method and uses it against him. Letting Karrde strike over and over again, Din forces Karrde to grow weary – his blows become slower and weaker.
Din is tiring too. The saber vibrates terribly, causing Din to maintain a death grip as he cuts and slashes in wide arcs. His bad right shoulder, the one he has repeatedly dislocated, complains loudly from the effort. Shooting blasters and pulse rifles don’t require nearly the same strength as wielding the Darksaber. Weeks of planning intelligence missions instead of running down quarries has left him a little out of shape.
Deflecting a thrust from the spear, Din’s upper body twists, giving a small opening. Karrde lands a nasty punch in Din’s side and jerks in pain. Snarling, Din kicks Karrde’s knee, causing him to grunt and stumble sideways. On his way down, Karrde sweeps the spear low, taking Din’s feet out from under him. Together both men collapse on the soggy ground, wheezing.
Grinning and panting, Din retorts “She fucks better too.”
Din quickly rolls away, avoiding Karrde’s fist that comes flying out, aiming for his jaw.
Undeterred, Karrde springs up and reaches out to grab the Darksaber, hoping to turn it around on Din and repay him for that nice little comment.
Din anticipates this, snatches the saber first, and chucks it away. Din’s intent was to only fling the Darksaber far enough out of reach so that he could tackle Karrde. However, Din threw the saber with a little bit more muscle than he realized.
Flying in the air, the Darksaber seems to follow a trajectory of its own. Dazed, both men watch as the saber spins on its side in a flat disc, like black rings circling a gas planet.
The saber arcs through the surrounding pine trees in the small clearing. The blade cuts through the massive tree trunks like a hot blade through butter.
The saber swings back around and instinctually, Din lifts his arm. The saber comes hurtling back to him and slams hilt-first into his hand – palm stinging from the force of the catch.
Slack-jawed, the men watch as the trees shudder and slowly topple over. One after another they come crashing down.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The noise is deafening as thick limbs collide and crack against each other. As the treetops hit the soft earth, great clouds of dead pine needles and dirt are kicked up, sending large plumes of debris into the air.
“Shit” Din breathes out heavily, unable to tear his eyes from the destruction. “Did you seethat?”
Hands planted on hips, it takes a moment for Karrde to respond.
“I, uh….I did.”
Slowly turning to Din, whose eyes are still glued to the trees - “that was no normal act of physics Mando. The saber returned to you. As if you were its master and you calledit.”
Amazed, Din finally looks down to marvel at the saber in his hand. Din feels like he is truly seeingthe saber for the first time. Goosebumps pebble the back of his neck.
It’s probably wise to stop now.
As soon as Din has the thought, the saber retracts back into the hilt. Din never touched the activation switch.
He simply thoughtthe act, and the Darksaber obeyed.
Din represses a shudder and tries it again. He looks down at the Darksaber and silently commands without speaking.
Open saber.
The saber slides out obediently and a white-hot streak of fire flashes up his arm –striking the base of his skull. The flash of pain catches Din off guard and he whips his to the side, grimacing.
Karrde watches this entire ordeal with a wary eye while Din takes a moment to recover.
“I can’t use this” Din mutters. “It’s too unpredictable and we don’t even understand how it works. There is something wrong with it Karrde. I can feelit.”
Karrde strokes his goatee in thought.
“Perhaps it can sense your hesitation—your reluctance to harness it. Maybe the saber wants to be owned, Mando. Do you think it can block blaster fire? Like the Jedi’s lightsabers do?”
“I’m not sure. Wait, where are you going? Damn it!”
Karrde is already taking a few steps back from Din. Wordlessly, he reaches under his arm and unholsters his blaster. He takes aim at Din and fires out a few rounds, without even bothering to give him warning.
Din thrashes the saber around, tilting it left and right across his body with quick swipes. The blade easily swallows the bolts, sparking and snapping greedily.
“For fuck’s sake Karrde!” Din shouts, “I don’t have my armor on!”
“You don’t need it!” Karrde brightly calls out before whipping out this other blaster. Double-armed, Karrde fires off round after round at Din. He’s not even trying to avoid hitting his friend now.
Talon is purposefully goading Din. He has a suspicion, but he needs to test it first. This is the only way. Well, no. That is not true. This is not the only way, it’s just the most fun and riling Mando is always a good time in Talon’s book.
It works. Spitting mad, Din arcs and swings the saber with all of his power, relying on it to keep him safe. Din hardly thinks as his arms elegantly hack and swipe the blade through the air, blocking each and every blaster fire. He swiftly reduces the distance and charges at Karrde, his feet tearing chunks of moss and grass in his wake.
Karrde tosses the blasters aside and braces himself for impact, grinning like the fucking lunatic he is.
Din tosses the saber aside too and plows into Karrde, toppling over as they both fall in a heap of arms and legs on the ground. Karrde’s elbow manages to make contact with Din’s nose, his head snapping back from the force. Snarling, Din is grinds Karrde’s face into the dirt while shouting—
“That was my noseshithead!”
Heaving Din off him with an enormous shove, Karrde shouts back between heavy pants—
“It’s a big fucking…gasp… target!”
Karrde is crawling away from Din, struggling to get on his feet, when Din falls on his legs, gripping his feet tight. Karrde wriggles violently and suddenly, his sock covered foot wrenches free, leaving Din clutching nothing but an empty boot to his chest.
“Ha!” Karrde laughs triumphantly as he scrambles up to his feet. Incredulous, Din stares at the empty boot in his hands, before cocking his arm back and chucking it at Karrde.
The heavy boot thumps Talon squarely in the back of his head, causing him to stumble and fall over. Din barks out in laugher before collapsing backwards, hitting the ground with a wet thud.
Gasping for air, both men are sprawled on the ground, chests heaving while they catch their breaths.
“Sorry” Talon manages to get out after a few long minutes. “But I had to confirm it.”
“Confirm what?” Din pants, still enjoying the mental replay of knocking Karrde over with his own damn boot.
Talon takes a deep breath before speaking.
“You’re force-sensitive Mando, you just don’t know it yet.”
************************
“What,the fuck, happened here?”
The two men sent you to the junkyard armed with a list of parts, supplies, and other odds and ends for the ship. You have returned back just around dusk and were shocked at the scene before you.
The clearing looked like a fierce battle had been waged. There are blaster marks everywhere, scorching deep in the earth. Trees that were perfectly upright when you left are now haphazardly laying on their sides.
Din and Talon are muddy, battered, an apparently ravenous. They don’t seem to give two shits though, as they hunch over their meal, greedily eating charred bits of meat off the bone.
The fire, you observe, is in fact the Darksaber embedded deeply into a pile of chopped wood. The deep, blue-black embers are slow-roasting the wild game suspended above. You also notice that Din is eating in front of Talon. The corner of your mouth quirks up at this small gesture of trust Din is bestowing upon his friend.
Din responds between mouthfuls—
“Learned how to use the Darksaber today.”
“It makes an excellent barbecue” Talon helpfully chimes in.
Din nods in agreement.
You narrow your eyes. They carefully keep their attention focused on their food, but you can tell the two jackasses are suppressing grins.
“Uh-huh. An entire day together and all you two discovered is how to grill meat with it?”
“Don’t question our methods woman” Din teases, while sucking a bone clean.
You roll your eyes and turn to Talon.
“What happened to the trees?”
“They needed a haircut” Talon replies and Din snickers into his plate.
“A…hair cut” you sarcastically repeat. Crossing your arms, you glare down at him. You turn back to Din.
“What about the blaster fire marks? Hmm?”
“What? Oh. That’s Talon’s fault. He shoots like a man with two dicks pisses—sprays everywhere.”
Talon tosses a bone at Din and it pings off his head. Din declined to react and continues plowing through his food in his signature style of eating.
Startled, you whip your head back to Talon.
“Youshot at him?”
Talon shrugs a half shoulder at you while tearing at a chunk of meat with his teeth.
“I had a hypothesis. I needed to test it, scientifically.” The way Talon emphasis the word confirms it was anything but scientific.
Din swears underneath his breath.
“And? What were the results of this veryscientific experiment?” you press.
“That I was correct. As usual.”
Din sighs in exasperation. “Is the strain terrible Karrde? From carrying around that great ego of yours?”
“Sometimes” Talon mildly responds. “But it is a burden all great men must bear, I suppose.”
“Ugh, I hate both of you.”
You’ve heard enough of this nonsense. It was glaringly apparent that you are not getting straight answers out of either of them.
You reach over Din’s shoulder and snatch a prized chunk of meat off his plate and stalk off towards the ship, leaving the two dingbats to their barbecue.
************************
“Ten hells this is heavy” you huff to Talon and Din, as you continue to push and roll the log, your arms quivering from the effort.
The following morning, the three of you are rolling enormous logs into a line in the decimated clearing. Last night, Din had finally confessed what transpired and Talon suspicions.
Splendid. As if life with Din wasn’t complicated enough. Now, the Darksaber has somehow awakened a power hidden deep down in the recesses of Din’s mind.
You took the news in stride, not wanting to overact and cause more stress than Din was already feeling about the situation. Instead, you offered to help train him. Perhaps learning how to harness the power would help Din wrestle control over the blade. Thus, why the three of you ended up back in the clearing on another fine, cold day.
The men are panting, feet slipping in the mud and moss as they maneuver the logs. You roll the last one into place and stagger back, hands braced on your knees –heart pounding at a gallop.
This exercise is Talon’s idea of ‘training’Din and you are highly skeptical. Talon claims to know the Jedi well, from his years working alongside the rebel alliance, providing intelligence. However, that didn’t make him an expert in using the force and certainly not qualified to teach Din how to wield the Darksaber. Reluctantly, you admitted that he had far more knowledge than either you or Din had about such power. Wiping a sleeve over his brow, Talon explains his idea.
“Alright. Let’s see if you can call the saber back. Throw the saber at the logs, making sure it sinks deep. Then, try retrieving it with your mind.”
“Right” Din replies dubiously before taking a few steps back. You quickly move out of the way, trying not to look so damn nervous. You shiver and rub your hands rapidly up and down your arms. The clearing is dusted in frozen dew and your breath unfurls from your nose in little curls.
Din engages the saber and adjusts his grip so he’s holding it like a javelin. He twists his wide shoulders around, cocks his arm way back and hurls the saber through the air. It impales the log with a thud—hilt wobbling from the momentum.
“Good” Talon grunts. “Now then. Call it back.”
“How?” Din turns to Talon, arms upraised.
Talon strokes his goatee. “Ah, use the force?”
You snort. No one in this clearing has any fucking clue what they are doing. Exasperated, Din snaps–
“How am I supposed to use the force, Karrde? Wave my hands around like an idiot?”
Talon rubs the back of neck, looking uncertain. “Try closing your eyes and thinking it?”
Groaning, Din complies. He raises an outstretched hand and closes his eyes. White breaths huff from his parted lips and the furrow between his brow sinks deeper. He tries to focus on the saber but his mind is distracted. His thoughts are clouded with doubt about his supposed abilities and mistrust of this ancient weapon. He silently commands the saber to return back to him.
Nothing.
Din drops his arm, staring hard at the saber. This is never going to work, he thinks. Karrde is wrong. I’m a just a simple warrior, not some fortune-telling wizard that wields magic.
Din plants his hands on his hips and stares at the ground, deep in thought. You cock your head as you study him. His whole body is tense and he is ill at ease. This isn’t how Din looks when he fights. When he attacks someone, he is calm. His mind goes quiet and gives himself over to instincts and decades of training.
You walk up behind him and slowly wrap your arms around his waist. Din drops his fists and turns his head, wondering what you are doing. You press your face in between his shoulder blades, inhaling deeply. You pull the scent of him - maleness, tilled earth, and wood - into the pit of your lungs and exhale out.
Unraveling your arms, you slide your hands up his back and up over his great big shoulders. He relaxes under your touch. Din understands what you are doing and takes a few steading breaths, letting the tension dissipate from his muscles. You run one hand along the underside of his arm, lifting it - hand outstretched towards the light saber.
“Call it my love” you breathe into his back, eyes closed and pressing your whole body against his. Din feels the weight of your body pressed against him. Warm, solid, and strong.
Strength.
That is what you are to him. You are his rock – his guiding light. Tethering himself to the calming warmth, Din summons the dark bond of the saber. A phantom, razor blade pain slices into the base of his skull. Only this time, he invites it in instead of fighting it. The invasive, dark power seeps in and settles over him. Din rests his gaze calmly on the saber. His body still and his thoughts as clear as cut crystal. He gives his command.
Come.
The saber yanks itself free and soars back to Din’s palm, hot and stinging. Wide-eyed, all three of you stare in collective silence at the saber - snarling and spitting in Din’s grip.
Talon swallows thickly—
“Do it again.”
************************
You are curled up in an overstuffed chair by the window of your suite, watching Din over the rim of your tea cup. It’s early morning and Din is face-down on the floor and panting. A sheen of sweat is beading down his back, highlighting the thick, taught muscles.
You were guiding him through his morning workout routine, designed to strengthen his upper body and his bum shoulder. If he was going to wield the Darksaber, he needed to put forth an effort to grow even stronger. There is only one more day of travelling left before you arrive at Coruscant, and only two more days before Azucar will be at the Aura.
Din has spent the last weeks doggedly training his mind and body. The latter being a task he most dearly hated. Pissing and moaning, the exercises have become a chore but you have insisted he do them anyways. Mostly, because you look forward to watching him sweat and how his sinewy muscles stretch, contract, and quiver from effort.
You are astonished at what a few weeks of regular, fresh meals and workouts have done for Din. His soft tummy you love resting your head on is gone. His shoulder is fully restored and he can swing and hack the saber for hours without tiring. He can even command the saber a bit—sort of.
It’s still a little wild and unpredictable, but you’ve assured both Din and Talon that you could re-attach a severed hand if you hadto.
However, you think he might have reached his limit this morning. You are sipping your hot tea when he collapses on his stomach, unable to will himself to finish the next and last exercise, pushups. You snuggle deeper into the chair, reveling in the soft feel of Din’s thick sweater. You have taken to wearing his warmer clothes when the chill of the ship seeps into your bones.
This morning, his sweater and a pair of panties are the only things you are wearing as you regard him thoughtfully. You remember how hard it was for him to let you work his injured shoulder. You had to resort to using Grogu as a distraction so Din could relax enough to let you do your job.
The memory gives you a new idea and you nearly laugh out loud at your own dimness. He needs a distraction, just like last time. A game or something to make these exercises bearable. A sinister smile spreads across your face.
“Push-ups. And then you’re done” you remind him.
“I know” Din replies flatly. “How many.”
“Hmm, let’s see. You did sixty-five yesterday. So, seventy today.”
Din groans but doesn’t move. You cock your head at him.
“I’ll make it fun if you do.”
“How’s that” he replies, face still smooshed into the floor.
“Take a look big guy” you respond in a sultry voice.
Intrigued, Din raises his head. As he locks eyes with yours, you scoot your bottom forward and slowly open your knees. You keep spreading them wider and wider, until his eyes fall to the junction of your thighs. He can just make out the tiny valley through the thin white cotton of your panties. You smile and slowly slide your hand down and start petting yourself. Lightly, you stroke your fingers up and down the center of your sex.
Din licks his lips and you watch satisfied as his chestnut eyes darken and his voice comes out ragged.
“What are you doing mesh’la?”
You bite your lower lip. Hook, line, and sinker.
“Do you want to see?” you ask innocently.
“Fuck…yes.” he growls.
“It will cost you ten push-ups.”
Scowling, Din gets to work right away. His arms snap under him and eyes locked on your stroking, he pumps out ten pushups in perfect form.
You place your mug down carefully on the table next to you and with one hand, slowly drag the crotch of your panties to the side. Your sex glistens in the morning sunlight. Your hairs dampen as you feel that delicious, warm heat grow deep inside you.
Entranced, Din rakes his eyes over your most intimate part. You cannot believe you are doing this. But Din’s delightfully depraved mind makes you feel like no sex act or request is too embarrassing or over the top. He is game for anything and everything.
“Should I spread myself for you? Hmm?”
Din practically whines at you in affirmation.
“Ten more then. Now.”
Din presses out the next ten while you use your free hand to spread your lips wide. You stroke a finger down in the crease between your inner and outer lips and let the tissue pull and stretch. You let your head fall lazily to the side and let out a deep sigh.
“Ohfuck” Din hisses. “Show me more.”
“Ten more, big guy.”
Din obeys even as his pace slows a bit. His eyes trained on your center, you circle your clit slowly and give him a small moan. Just a little performance for his efforts as you stroke lazily over your tiny nub and feel it swell.
“Do you want me to put a finger in?”
Din’s eyes are black pits as he grits out. “How many?”
“Ten more” you coo out.
Din grunts with effort now as he heaves himself up and down and you sink a finger deep into yourself. As he pumps his arms, you time the stroke of your finger to the same speed as him. He notices and his mouth hangs open as he pants with exertion.
“Another finger” he commands.
“Ten more” your demand back.
You slip a second finger inside and pump your fingers in time with his arms. He’s slowing down more and his shoulders strain and tremble from the effort.
“Yours feel so much better” you purr out as you continue to slide in and out of yourself.
Din drops his knees to take a break and the look on his face makes your breath hitch in your throat. He’s going to fucking ruin you when this is over. He’s only got twenty more push-ups left.
“Taste yourself.” His voice is barely above a whisper and your mouth forms a small curl.
“That’s going to cost you twenty.”
Din flashes a lopsided, heart-stopping smile as he raises his knees back up and with great effort, starts slowly pressing out the last twenty pushups.
You try to ignore the burning heat spreading across your chest and neck as you crook a finger in deep, making a show of swirling it around to Din – collecting your slick. You slowly slide your finger out and raise it your mouth.
You hear Din mutter desperately as he reverts to Mando’a.
You pause just at your mouth and with coy smile, you instead hike your sweater up and rub your glossy fingers over your nipple.
Din hisses while you continue to stroke the gloss all around your peaked bud until it stands firm and erect, glistening in the soft sunlight.
“Come taste it yourself” you tease him as you fondle your nipple, rolling the hardened nub between your fingers before pulling it out and letting it pop back with a little sigh.
“Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine” Din hisses out between clenched teeth as he counts out the final pushups.
When he hits seventy, you open your eyes to tell him he’s done for the day but all you catch is a flash of sweaty tan muscle. Din springs off the floor and tackles you. You yelp out in surprise as he snatches you from the chair and tosses you on the bed. You bounce once before Din’s body crashes down on yours.
Stunned, he captures your mouth in a commanding kiss while he grasps the side of your panties and pulls fiercely. The fabric crackles and snaps as he tears it off you in a frantic flourish.
“Oh, shit!” you eek. Din shifts his weight to angrily shove down the front of his soft sleeping pants and pulls his cock out. You spread you knees wide and squeeze your eyes shut in preparation for his brutal entry. However, Din’s back and arm muscles have reached muscle failure and he can’t hold his weight. He collapses on top of you with such force it knocks the wind out of your lungs with a loud “oof.”
“Fuck” Din pants out. “I…I can’t do it. I can’t hold myself up anymore.”
You burst out laughing and wrap your arms around his neck and Din starts laughing too. His arms are dead meat by his sides and his sweaty chest sticks to your breasts where your sweater was rucked up.
“Oh well, I guess maybe later then” you say teasingly.
Din groans in deep agony as you laugh at his pitiful cry. You nuzzle your nose into his temple and press a soothing kiss there.
“I’mkidding Din. Roll over you big lug.”
You help push him over and he flops onto his back. You straddle his hips and lean over him, lifting the hem of your sweater to expose your wet nipple. You bring your breast up and tease the tip of your erect peak down the bridge of his nose, before hovering it just over his lips. Din grasps your breast and captures your peak deeply in his mouth, sucking hard. Din hums in content at your musky, womanly taste.
Your eyes close and you let out a faint moan as Din gently bites down. Zips of arousal circle and course through your breasts at the strange mixture of pain and pleasure. Din reaches his other hand down between your bodies and inserts a finger deep inside of you, dragging your slick up the center of your slit and starts circling your throbbing little bud. Din continues to suckle and clamp down on your nipple while circling your clit and heady combination sets your body ablaze. You feel your build rise steadily, but your insides have nothing to grip on. You feel the overwhelming need to be stretched and stuffed.
You gently pull his face off your breast to sit up to turn around - straddling him backwards.
“Where are you—”
Din asks, puzzled until it becomes clear to him what you are going to do. You toss him a mischievous smile over your shoulder while you grab his cock at the base. You gently rock your hips up and down, rubbing your puffy, wet sex up and down his length. Feeling him tense and buck against you, his cock twitches with anticipation.
Din grabs your hips gently and helps guide you down over his throbbing dick. Fuck, he’s not going to last long as he watches himself disappear into the tight, hot heat of you. Once you are fully seated, you slowly walk your hands forward until your breasts lay flush against his legs. The position causes your hips to rotate up, granting Din a front row seat. You slowly bob up and down on his cock, slicking him with your thick gloss.
Din grunts in satisfaction as he pushes the hem of your, his, sweater higher up your back. He drags his hands to the fleshy globes of your buttocks – keeping you spread open.
“Godsmesh’la” he says tightly, as he stares in wonder at sight before him. Your folds stretched wide and the tender tissue of your hot sheath gliding over and over him.
“Enjoying the view my love?” you ask, voice muffled.
“You have no idea” he grits out, his voice strained and it causes you to chuckle softly.
He’s unable to pull his eyes away as he lifts your hips up an only lets you sink down far enough to catch his ring on the rim of your entrance. You understand what he wants and indulge him.
In and out, in and out, you slide just the tip of his wide, blunt head until you are burning with heat and desperate to sink all the way down.
His grip holds firm and he forces you to keep kissing his head with your sex until you whimper and plead to have him all the way inside you. Din relaxes his grip and lets you sink down and your eyes flutter shut as your walls strain and burn from his girth. You both moan in unison at the bliss of being sheathed to the hilt.
Your heart pounds in your bundle of nerves, demanding friction. You reach your hand down to start rubbing tight circles over your clit as you work yourself up and down his cock. Your climax winds tighter and tighter as you flicker your finger over your stiff peak, waggling it faster and faster as your whole body goes ridged with the effort.
“Shit. How did I get so…fucking…lucky” Din groans out as your rhythm builds. “My sweet riduur…fucking me like this…”
Din can feel your walls clenching around him hard and he can tell you are getting close.
“Don’t stop..fuck..that’s it. Keep going.”
Din watches your tight pussy fall apart. Your muscles flutter and squeeze his cock hard in undulating waves of release. He keeps your ass cheeks spread wide so can fuck up into as you shake and tremble through your orgasm, making your cry out in pleasure. A fresh coat of your release oozes out and coats him.
The visual is too much for Din. His pleasure builds quickly and spins out of his control. The speed and power in which he erupts takes him by surprise. His hips stutter and jerk as his dick spits hard and deep into you. You moan with relief when you feel his warm seed bloom inside.
Oh fuck, look at that beautiful sight.
His brain short-circuits as he sees his creamy cum spills out down his cock. He lazily drags your hips up and down his shaft, extending the sweet descent of his climax as long as possible. With an enormous sigh, his head and arms fall back. He is spent. Mind, body, and soul have separated and hover over him as he breathes heavily through the come down of his high.
You gingerly lift off him, and carefully position yourself by his side. Din uses the last of his strength to drag you across his body, his preferred position while his body quiets. Your swollen breasts press into his chest, and one knee hitched high and over his hip. You feel sated and content.
Wow, that must have been good. Din is speechless as you circle a finger around one of his nipples. His breath is slowing down when you hear a tiny snore escape.
Surprised, you lift your head to look up at him and he is…dead asleep.
You giggle quietly to yourself. He is doneand you gloat with pride knowing that you knocked him out cold with all the teasing and love making. Stealthily, you extract yourself from bed. Not that you should have bothered, a tie fighter’s blood-curdling scream couldn’t wake him now. You fish out a fresh pair of panties and leggings, wondering how many pairs of underwear Din has destroyed so far.
Dressed, you slip out of the room and head to the dining area in search of breakfast.
************************
You’ve just about finished eating your food when you hear the soft pad of footsteps behind you.
Din walks up behind you and nuzzles his face into your neck. You close your eyes and angle your head, unable to resist his affectionate display. You hear a soft clink and your eyes open and glance down at the table. Din has placed two wide and silver cuffs before you.
They are stunning.
Amazed, you pick one up and are enthralled by the heft and detail. Intricate and feminine tribal scroll work adorn the surface. You turn them over and spy the tiny mud horn seal embossed at the edges. You notice the inside of the cuff and recognize the tell-tale sign of miniscule hidden internal mechanics.
“These aren’t just cuffs…” you trail off.
“No” Din responds giving you a quick kiss and nuzzle to your temple. “They’re vambraces. I made them especially for you.”
Din trails a finger over a spiral of dainty dots, cleverly incorporated with the decorative embellishes.
“Comms link.”
His finger slides over to a small, raised button and depresses it. You gasp as the hilt of a slim knife shoots out one end.
“Dagger.”
He picks up the other cuff and slides a compartment out of the end.
“Secret compartment.”
Lastly, he traces a fingertip over a small, raised bump, carved in the shape of a shell.
“Embedded tracking device, so we can always find our way back to each other.”
Speechless, you turn over the vambraces and slip them on. They wrap around and fit your forearms perfectly.
“We’ll, look at that.” Din murmurs lovingly next to your ear.
Short Debts Make Long Friends - snippet from Ch. 7
“What are you doing?” he asks, confused.
“Going to sleep,” you answer matter-of-factly.
“But – ”
“I promised to stop worrying about paying you back,“ you point out, "I didn’t promise to sleep on the bed. Sweet dreams.”
You snuggle down on the floor with your blanket and pillow, all smiles, and he suddenly realizes has he just walked straight into a trap of his own making.
Dank fucking ferrik karking damn it to hell.
“I’ll buy you the droid,” he offers, voice flat.
You pop straight up back from the pillow. “Huh?”
He shouldn’t have been so quick to put the helmet back on. It would be very nice to be able to close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Share the bed with me and I’ll buy you the droid.” He hears his own words play back in his head and cringes.
“Back home that would be considered a form of prostitution,” you brightly observe.
His wince deepens into a grimace. Shit shit shit shit –
Your nose wrinkles. “Do I still have to stop worrying about paying you back?”
“Yes!” he explodes. This was already a raw deal; who knows what you might trick him into doing next?
Short Debts Make Long Friends - Stories of Mando and Reader. Or, an overeducated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.
Tags under cut - thanks to everyone who has helped with signal boosting!
Short Debts Make Long Friends - Ch. 6 - “How Long Does It Take Someone to Fall Apart?”
You walk a few feet inside and slow to a halt, surveying the accommodations. The room is spartan, but similar enough to what you would expect in a motel at home. Chair, bathroom, nightstand, bed.
It’s a small bed.
Later, you tell yourself. You’ll bully him into taking the bed. Or guilt him into it. Something. He will be sleeping on that mattress tonight, even if it is the last thing you do. And it very well may be, considering the wide variety of ways to kill, maim, or detonate someone that he carries on his person at any given time.
The floor creaks as he sets your new backpack by the door. You mumble a thank you but don’t turn around, choosing to withdraw into yourself instead…deliberately stepping away from the battle of remaining focused and present. You aren’t giving up, you’re giving in, and right now you don’t have to exist any further beyond four walls, a floor, and a ceiling.
The silvery ring of beskar briefly fills the silence as Mando slides the spear from behind his back, followed by a quiet thud as he props it up in the corner. He’s waiting for you to say something, do something.
“Will you…will you be okay?” he finally asks. Given his earlier reticence, he seems oddly reluctant to leave.
“Yeah,” you reply, still facing the bed. “But I need a little while to not be.” Really, really not, you silently add.
