A/N: This is my first Star Wars fan fiction. I was so taken with the character of Cassian Andor and how completely open his past and his story was before his death. I decided to write a story, set in the same universe, under the same timeline. It's based off a character I am absolutely excited to explore, in order to properly build my mandalorian armor. This is not a self insert as much as it's a character study for a project I'm working on...I just find it easier to work in first person/past tense.
I hope you enjoy! Please review and PM me with any questions or suggestions!
What's In A Name
Chapter 1: Wrong Place, Right Time
Time has never been on anyone's side in this galaxy. Time has never been something you could hold onto, but it has always been a rushing, driving, unforgiving force of everything. If you knew how much time you had left on earth, what would you change? Who would you save in the process?
I guess what I'm asking is, have you ever fought for anything? Have you ever been dragged into a fight that's not your own, simply because of the blind faith of another? If that answer is no, well...this is exactly what it looks like.
-Approximately One Year before the Battle of Scarif –
I stumbled, my normally skilled feet suddenly clumsy with anxiety as I sprinted along the rocky ground of that mountain. I bobbed, weaved, and attempted to keep my helmeted head low to the ground, dodging the bright blasts that passed, hot against the metal of my armor, blistering my skin. Each of them grew louder, making my feet that much clumsier each time. This system was under imperial control. Who would have guessed? The typically boring planet was normally home to the scum of the earth, scavenging every bit of wreckage they could find, tossing bodies to rot aside any piece of metal that could be salvaged from the victim's vehicles. The Empire was obviously looking for someone important, and I, thanks to my unfortunate gift for collecting Rebellion 'memorabilia', happened to be the first target they had seen. The large Rebel Alliance symbol scrawled across the top of my helmet must have triggered the attack, and I could almost hear the transmission of 'a Mandalorian sympathizer found on Asmeru.'
"Hold fire…", a very electronic voice commanded from behind, a nonchalant command that sent chills down my spine, and caused me to stop running in my tracks. As I reached the top of the hill, my pace slowing with every step, the reason became clear. The city below me bustled, the market loud and unruly as the various species went about their day. I turned on my heel, the Stormtroopers approaching slow and deliberate, the smirks under their helmets almost showing on the pearl white sheen that covered their faces. I gave my own small smirk, shrugging my shoulders, and pulled out my Westar blaster, firing a single shot into the group. One of the clones crumpled, distracting the rest as they raised their blasters to fire at me once more, but by that time I was nowhere to be seen. I dropped to my hip, and began sliding down the hill, through the rocks and small trees. As I descended, my armor dinged off of the various hard surfaces, causing me to cringe at every metallic reminder of the damage such sound would do to my bare skin.
I hit the bottom, my body falling into a shallow pool of water with a large splash. I lay there for a bit, panting, staring at the sky above me. It was getting worse. The numbers of mindless clones the Empire was bringing into this battle was growing, and they were ruthless. Obviously, their only reason for existing was death. The force to drive out the Rebellion, and silence the Rebels was a no mercy fight, and even looking as if you didn't agree with the Empire was an instant death sentence. Well great I was stuck in the middle of all of this, due to a pretty paint job.
My name is Kitah'ra. At this point I had no last name. No purpose. I didn't know who my parents were, or where I came from. But I knew one thing. I was a Mandalorian, at least by blood. Of all of my belongings that I had for my entire life, my mother's helmet is one of them. A friend, who not unlike many other caretakers during this fight abandoned me in the outer rim, gave it to me. He had said I would survive. I was Mandalorian. I was resourceful by blood, strong by blood. I would figure out a way to survive, above all else, because that's what we do. After placing my helmet atop my head, he vanished. I painted that helmet a million times, not even sure that it belonged to me the way I would like. But it was always mine. I trained as a Mandalorian, seeking out anyone in the galaxy with any information of the remaining few of my people still in existence, and not in hiding. I lost many mentors over the past 20 years, most to the hands of the Empire, and a few, fighting for a cause that was not even ours. I believed in the Rebellion. I didn't believe in their incessant need to run suicide missions for the 'greater good'. I guess the need for self-preservation is also running through my veins. I believed in taking care of yourself, and putting people first, only if it benefited you. However, I did stand with the Rebellion on one thing. The Empire was good for no one. They benefited no one. They needed to be snuffed, if not just to make my life easier.
A flash of light snapped me out of my daydream, hitting a space between my shoulder bell and helmet, burning directly through my neck seal. I groaned loudly, turning onto my stomach to swim. The shots continued, hissing against the water around me. The thought of another hitting my skin caused a wave of adrenaline to flow through me. I stood, running in the water, toward the shore, my hand pressed against my neck. As I pulled my hand from my neck, the damage was immediately apparent by the stream of blood dripping through my fingers and down the back of my bright blue armor. I groaned once more, suddenly feeling dizzy, but pressed on. As I reached the shore, a large figure came into view. A ship! I narrowed my eyes, attempting to take in the shape of the ship. I was an experienced flyer, but not the most confident. I had stolen vehicles (X-wings, Ties, and various land speeders) but nothing like this. I gazed upon the large ship a few moments longer, before the dizziness in my head nearly brought me to my knees. So, I ran.
The hatch lay open, causing a bit of concern, but concern was not something I could afford to give much weight to. I stumbled up the large ramp, pulling my blaster once more for protection. The ship seemed empty, but it was vast. There could be anyone or anything hiding in those compartments. Putting that aside, I fumbled my way to the cockpit of the ship, taking a look around. The only sign of human life was a vest, draped over the back of the seat, the Rebel Alliance symbol plastered along the lapel, and another vest hanging on the wall to the right, unmarked, other than the name "Andor" painted in a faded white Aurebesh. Andor seemed familiar, but didn't strike me as particularly important. Probably a name I had heard across the scanners at some point. Maybe the ship was simply flying into Asmeru on a supply run, but for a U-wing, this seemed a little odd. The fact that the ship, meant to carry large numbers of troops, was empty only made my paranoia grow.
A drop of blood splashed loudly against my gauntlet, alerting my attention back to the injury to my neck. I shook myself out of my haze, and climbed into the pilot's seat, flipping switches as quickly as I could with shaky fingers. The blackouts came on swiftly, my head drowsy and cold. I shook myself physically, mumbling a simple, "C'mon Kit. Keep it together. This is nothing…"
As I spoke, a faint scream caught my attention, as I blacked out once more. I shook myself harder, glancing out the window toward the voice as it screamed louder.
"Hey! Thief! Get out of there! You're not stealing this ship!"
'But I am…', I thought hazily, as the engines finally powered up. I slowly pushed the thruster forward, the ship rising with a shudder. The man's face changed from determination to panic as the ship rose, and then slammed back to the ground, before rising a bit more. A small blackout later and I lost him. I shrugged, my shaky, cold hands attempted to thrust the ship further into the air, before a heavy accent raided my brain. Damn. I had forgotten all about the ramp…
"I said…", the man nearly whispered, out of breath and angry, "You're not stealing this ship."
I lowered the ship back to the ground, defeated, as a blaster clinked against the temple of my helmet. I giggled lightly at the irony. Running from the empire one second, and I was going to die at the hands of a rebel.
"Who are you? Where did you get that helmet?"
"What?", I attempted to ask, as the shivering overtook my entire body.
"Where did you get that helmet!? Answer me!"
"It's mine. I'm a…I'm…Mandalorian…", I stuttered, reaching to remove the helmet.
"Stop moving! There haven't been Mandalorians around here in years. Where did you get it? Did you steal it? That armor looks scavenged…are you a bounty hunter?", the man asked, his eyes beginning to dart around to each window as he nervously shook his blaster at me.
"I didn't steal it. My family…"
"Why is that there?", he shoved the blaster toward the top of my helmet, signalling to the Rebel Alliance symbol, "Who sent you? Did you think you were going to take my ship? Make it easier for the Empire to get their hands on me? Yeah. I bet you did…"
I giggled loudly, dropping my arms to my lap, and turned my head away from him, "No one sent me. I came for food. I found the empire. They are over that hill, behind us. If…if you don't want to be in the same boat I am, I suggest we leave."
"No. You're not my problem. Get up. You're wasting my time."
"I can't move. I've been shot…", I whispered, rolling my eyes, unseen beneath my helmet.
"Again, not my problem. Get up. Do it!"
I groaned as I raised my arm quickly, raising his blaster from my face to his own nose with a sickening crack. Throwing the blaster to the side, I carefully raised my Westar to his bloody nose and smirked, "I'm not…going…anywh-"
A metallic blow to my face blew my helmet off, before I was lifted by my chest armor and slammed to the ground behind the seat. Out of breath and disoriented, I stared up at my assailant, my eyes narrowed.
"Captain, sir. I have run analysis on the situation. The odds are in your favor to take her back to the base. There is a good chance the General would want to speak to her. Might I suggest we lock her up?", the droid spoke out, eloquently.
"We don't take in strays, K2. Especially not…agh.", the man leaned heavily against the back of the pilot's seat, holding his nose. Blood cascaded from between his fingers, "She's being pursued by the Empire."
The man struggled to rise from the ground, the droid reaching down and throwing him to his feet by his collar, prior to a soft pat on the head.
"And sir…So are we."
In perfect unison with those words, the first blast fired its way through the ship, and into the back of the co-pilot seat. The close proximity to the Captain's ribs shook him, and he stumbled around to the pilot's seat powering up the engine again. The droid pressed a single button, raising the ramp, launching a Stormtrooper in the process.
"I am going to restrain you now. I suggest you do not struggle. It will not be very enjoyable for you if you do. Sir, shall I attend to her neck?", K2 strung out, slapping a set of cuffs onto my wrists. As he did so, he strapped me into the wall of the ship, and forced me to sit.
"No. If she dies, she dies…", the man sneered, quickly lifting the ship off the ground, and away from the mountain into hyperspace.
"As you wish, Captain…"
