In a corner of a loud cantina, on a planet most people would think twice about visiting, sat an old man and a young woman.
The man was nondescript to anybody not looking closely. He was bald and old enough to be the woman's father, with a deceptively pleasant story of lines across his face.
His eyes, though. His eyes were those of a hunter, watching sudden movements and suspicious characters across the entire cantina. It said a lot that the woman was comfortable with her back to the din, which had been interrupted by a shooting out back not five minutes past.
As for the woman, it was for the best that she faced away from the rest of the cantina. From the back, she was relatively unimpressive, with a lithe, athletic figure and shoulder-length charcoal-black hair.
From the front, even the old man needed to kick himself once in a while to make sure he watched the cantina instead of her.
It wasn't her sharp nose or strong jawline that drew the attention. Her high cheekbones didn't help the problem, but they weren't distracting in and of themselves. When she reached up to brush away a single lock of hair, revealing the top half of a scar that ran across one of her eyes, that wasn't so unusual. It wasn't her smooth, pale skin or the earnest smile that played across her features that distracted the old man. He was more than experienced enough to keep his eyes off a pretty face.
It was her eyes. Old man Braden had never seen eyes like that. He was sure nobody had. They were blue, deeper than any sky or ocean and purer than any sapphire. They shone like the stars on a long journey home when she smiled, and she did that all the time.
It did an old man's ego good to know she was smiling because of him.
"So you'll do it?" Braden asked.
The woman's smile widened into a playful grin. "Of course I'll do it, for you, Braden."
Braden leaned over the table and pulled the woman into an abrupt, one-armed hug.
"Thanks, Aqura. You don't know what this means to me."
Aqura returned the hug with a laugh. It wasn't a pretty laugh, as such things went. It was loud, and rough, and came out in a bit of a bark. But it was genuine, and that made Braden smile, too.
"Sure I do, old man," Aqura said, pulling away with a flick of that one lock of hair. "You still working with Jory?"
"Sure am."
"Great. I've been meaning to have somebody look at my gear."
Braden raised an eyebrow. "What about your uncle Lekan?"
Aqura's smile dropped like a rock into a pond. "He… ran into a Jedi a while back. My aliit wouldn't tell me who. They know I'd go after them."
"Hey, hey, Mandokarla," Braden shushed, reaching a hand out to hold Aqura's fist. "We can figure that out together. I got a new kid, a few years back, her name's Mako. Best slicer you've ever met. After the Hunt, we can go looking. What do you say?"
Aqura nodded solemnly.
"You don't have to do this," Braden said. "If you want to go after this Jedi-"
Aqura shook her head, still staring at the table. "No. This is probably your last chance, like you said. My first Great Hunt. Whoever killed Lekan, they can wait. At least a little while."
The pair went silent for a moment, both remembering an old friend.
Then Aqura said, softly, so Braden could barely hear her over the cantina's noise. "I know how he died, you know. I always know. With Yoru and Denn and Shon and Krenn. Every… every time."
A tear slipped down her face, and she held Braden's hand hard enough to hurt his old fingers.
"It was that blaster of his. He loved that thing, but he relied on it too much. He used to say it could get him out of anything, it was just as good as a vod at his back. But he was wrong. If I'd been there, I could have..."
She trailed off, and her head fell to the table. Braden watched the cantina over her shoulder as her tears wet his hand.
"I know," he said, brushing the young woman's hair. "Nothing replaces family."
If the old man hadn't known what his young friend was going to say, he'd never have heard it as she spoke into the table.
"There's just so few left. Sherkan and Aayha and Sho'cye. Out of everybody who saved me. Out of my whole… I feel… shuk'la..."
Braden didn't know that one, and Aqura must have known that, because she said, "in pieces. Like every time one of us dies, I break a little inside."
"That's not really Mando philosophy," Braden chided her gently, glaring at a man who walked too close to their table.
"I know," Aqura said into his hand. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la."
"Not gone, just marching far away," Braden repeated back to her. That one he knew. That one he knew too well.
"It just doesn't feel that way."
"No," Braden agreed, staring down a twi'lek standing a little too close. He patted the Aqura's head softly. "Don't worry, Mandokarla, we're not going to get into trouble. You can do what you do best, and we'll be safe. We'll make sure you get home safe."
Aqura slowly lifted her head up, brushing away hair that had stuck to her wet face. "Maybe it'll be easier," she said, "not working with Mandos for a while."
Braden smiled slightly. Aqura didn't return it because she didn't feel it.
"What are you going to do about," Braden started to gesture vaguely, then his eyes widened and he yelled, "behind you!"
Aqura slipped down and to the side. She spun in time to catch an approaching man in the leg with her foot. He went down screaming, his knee bending in a way it shouldn't.
Braden drew his pistol and pushed the table over sideways, hoping to give himself some cover, hoping he hadn't left his young friend high and dry.
He needn't have worried.
Two others drew blasters on them, the twi'lek from earlier and a woman Braden hadn't noticed. Aqura was on them before they could fire. As the crowd started to scatter, she slammed an open palm into the twi'lek's solar plexus, then grabbed his arm and moved to put him in between herself and the other gunman. Before Braden could line up a shot that wouldn't kill somebody who probably didn't deserve it as much, Aqura lifted, shoved, and threw the man into his partner. They went down in a pile of limbs, and Aqura finally drew her pistol.
"Laandur," she spat, holding her blaster steady on the two tangled attackers.
Braden signaled to the man with the broken leg, making sure he didn't try anything. Again, he needn't have worried. The man was clutching his leg and crying.
"Get up," Aqura said, then repeated herself when the two froze. "Up!"
Slowly, avoiding sudden movements – and thus increasing Braden's estimation of their intelligence immensely – the two extricated themselves from each other and stood up. Aqura gestured over to their friend, and the moved over that way, slowly.
"Pick him up," Aqura said. After they complied, she gestured to the door, "out."
The three looked at her, dumbfounded.
Braden had to say, she looked pretty intimidating, even with puffy, bloodshot eyes. It was probably the steel in her stance, or the fire in her glare.
"OUT!" she roared, pointing towards the door. "Come back when you're not walking blind into your own deaths!"
Whichever one of the three moved first, it prompted all of them, and the twi'lek and woman carried their friend out of the cantina.
Aqura turned on the rest of the crowd, or the remains of it. The few left had hidden behind the bar or cowered in the corners. It was as if they hadn't realized nobody had fired a shot in the exchange.
"Old man," Aqura called, "any more?"
"No, we're clear."
Aqura holstered her blaster and walked back to Braden, and they both pushed the table right way up again. Then Aqura slid back into her chair and sighed.
Braden watched her silently.
The way she'd phrased her ultimatum to those hoods was telling.
He wondered what would happen if she got to close to one of the team. Mako was always asking to go out hunting with them. If the two grew close, and Aqura overruled Braden and let Mako come out with her, if Mako got herself killed out there…
He'd just have to make sure. Aqura was a strong woman, in everything but this.
"They attacked me out of my armour," Aqura grumbled.
Braden nodded. "Smart. I doubt any of them could've afforded a weapon that could get through beskar'gam."
Aqura shook her head. "That's not my point. I took those utreekove down in seconds without my armour. Not only that, but they attacked with you right here!"
Braden smiled. "I'm just an old man, kid. And most people don't expect an unarmoured Mandalorian to be an expert martial artist. Especially not one so young."
Aqura snorted in derision.
"So," Braden prompted, gesturing again at his own face, "about..."
Aqura nodded, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll get Aayha to design me a new set, it'll cover my face. I'm thinking gold."
"And..."
Aqura made face. "I don't want to change my name."
Braden stared at her meaningfully.
"You managed just fine," Aqura protested.
"No, I didn't," Braden said. "I ended up a washed-up old man because nobody wants to hire the man who killed the Jedi Grandmaster and bombed the Jedi Temple."
"It was an accident!"
"So was killing Kym. And I didn't have anything to do with the bomb."
"But it's lying!"
That actually managed to stump Braden. As much as he loved the little Mandokarla, he-
Wait…
"Maybe not," Braden said slowly.
"How is changing my name not lying?" Aqura asked sarcastically.
"When it's a name you already use," Braden said, a smile spreading across his face.
Aqura glared at him. Then, slowly, her eyes widened, and she even smiled, just a bit.
Braden stood up, rounded the table, and gave her a hug.
"Now, get going," he said. "We've both got a lot of work to do before the Great Hunt."
"Only because my aliit wants me to try this alone," Aqura muttered, a bit petulantly. "I hate hutts."
Pulling back, Braden ran a hand through the young woman's hair. In spite of what had happened, her eyes still sparkled like distant stars.
"See you on Hutta," he said as he walked away, "Mandokarla."