Title: Ancient Records
Author: Novemberries
Characters: The Mandalorian, Baby Yoda, OC
Genre: Family/Angst/Romance
Word Count: 4666
Raiting: T (subject to change?)
Disclaimer: Star Wars belong to George Lucas. I mean, to Disney. I'm only borrowing Mando and Baby Yoda to give them a cosy time.
Completed on: 21DEC2019
Published on: 24DEC2019
Chapter Last Revised on: 16JAN2020
A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone!
The Mandalorian was sitting in the cockpit, looking at the stars escaping with the speed of light. The child sat on his lap, nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm. A light, but reassuring weight. Its head was leaning where his arm was bandaged, and the little one was grasping the Mandalorian's other gloved hand. The child's eyes were droopy, lulled to sleep by the hypnotising streaks of hyperspeed stars, as well as probably the Mandalorian caressing it now and then.
Generally speaking, it was a mess. But he knew one thing. The kid's place was with him.
Every day, the unnamed feeling he had never experienced – or maybe had experienced, but such a long time ago that his mind had spaced the memory – was burning steadily, warming him up from the inside.
Truly, they were the safest when on the move.
It wasn't the ideal solution for keeping the bounty hunters off their necks, but it was the best one he could think of at this moment. Any remote world that came into his mind he discarded, as even on the rural Sorgan they had found themselves at gunpoint. The hunters would eventually follow them to this nameless planet by the Hydian Way, too.
He would need to think of something, soon, because they couldn't run forever.
A beeping sounded from the console, so he gently disentangled his hand to check what was happening. He clicked the display buttons and scanned the message.
Obviously.
He had clocked up his ship's navicomputer to alert him at once to any disturbances or jams on the route, among other things. There was heavy traffic where Mid Rim and Expansion Region were meeting and he'd rather avoid that. The solitary way was the safe way. This is how far, then, they would go with the main hyperroute. It still was a long distance traversed smoothly.
Gently disentangling his another arm, The Mandalorian punched several buttons on the console and the Razor Crest dropped out of the hyperspace, suspended in the starry, black void. The child cooed, looking sleepily around. He checked the radar – no planets nearby. No vessels. Then, he heard the steps on the ladder leading to the cockpit.
"Is everything all right?" The doctor climbed up and joined him by the console.
"Yes."
"Why have we stopped?"
His hyperdrive was malfunctioning, but the navi comp was a blaze. Together, they compensated and were capable of plotting a course under fifteen seconds.
However, just now, an unidentified ship had entered the radar and he wished he had the route right at this instant to punch that hyperdrive.
"I'm plotting a new course."
She accepted his answer and didn't pry for any details or explanations – even if she had noticed the radar indications. Wise woman. The less they knew about each other, the better for them, and for her.
The sooner they parted ways, the better for them, and for her.
"It's time for the last check-up," she said instead. "Come see me when you're done. Also," she added, pointing to the child who by this time had already woken up completely and was waving its tiny, pudgy hand at her. "I've heated the soup for him."
He slightly turned his head to assess her.
"Thank you," he said in the moment the computations for the new hyperroute were ready. And the unidentified ship was approaching steadily. They needed to go right now, so he punched the hyperdrive. His ship shoot off with a lurch and within moments they were cruising steadily.
"I'll join you on the lower deck," he said to her.
She nodded and made her exit down the ladder. No questions asked.
Another eight hours Kooriva. One of the worlds least frequented by bounty hunters. No guild presence there, the last he checked. Not overly friendly to outsiders. He would grab the supplies, refuel and be back off to the Outer Rim.
He scanned the prognostics and messages, double-checked whether the autopilot was on and launched correctly and that there were no more reports from the radar, and then gently secured the baby close to his chest and followed the doctor to the lower deck.
She was sitting on the floor wrapped in her cloak, cross legged, with eyes closed. Now that he took a closer look at her, her face seemed rested, different from what he had seen on that planet. The rescue had served her well.
He put the baby in the secure compartment and carefully handed it the warm canteen with the bone broth that the doctor had prepared. The kid's ears twitched gently and it accepted the soup with a tiny squeak.
When he turned to her, she had opened her eyes, observing him.
"I'm ready," he said.
She nodded and rose to her feet. "Let's get to it, then."
She had prepared everything already, so he proceeded to unstrap the beskar from his body. It was the third time he was doing this in front of her, but the procedure never stopped feeling foreign and mildly uncomfortable. Yes, he had been wounded and tended to in the past. But to remove his armour in front of a stranger was equal to stripping himself bare.
The touch was something else, though. He wasn't so wary of it like the last time and didn't tense like the first time she had put her hand on his skin. It was like the moment when one felt too tired to strip for a shower, resisting any action, but when finally forcing oneself to stand under the showerhead and turning the water on, the mellowing, warm feeling was a reward on its own and one was thanking oneself for making this effort. He couldn't remember anyone tending to him with a touch like this. It was foreign, too – but not unwelcome.
"You're sure you don't happen to have any bacta around?" she murmured under her nose, cutting the stitches one after another, her eyes trained on his wound. Her right hand was wielding the scissors, working with practiced movements, and her other hand was encircling his bicep for stability. Warmth radiated where she touched. When he didn't reply, she looked up to him, cool and professional, grey eyes clear.
"No."
"Too bad." She took her hand away, the warmth immediately replaced by the pervading coldness of his ship, and put the utensils back on the table. Then, she started to prod his flesh around the wound with gentle dabs of her finger. "It's going to scar bad. But it healed clean. You're good." She gave his arm a soft pat and then her eyes widened as she looked to the side. "Hey, hey!"
She flew to the edge of the table and intercepted the child as it was climbing up, using the crates on the floor. He took this moment to dress up.
"Scissors and needles are no toys for babies." She was holding the child in the crook of her arm and the little one kept looking from her to him with squeaks and coos. She looked to him, amused. "Here, let me take you to your-" she left the sentence hanging as she was handling him the child, giving him an enquiring, yet gentle look.
He paid only half attention to what she had said, because right at this moment, for the first time, he was cradling the little one without the barrier of beskar between them. His chest felt every wiggle. He started to feel gentle warmth radiating from the tiny, precious creature as it looked up to him.
The Mandalorian slowly walked up to the secure compartment and deposited the child there.
"Scissors. Needles. No toys," he stressed out with the help of his gloved forefinger, unable to form entire sentences. The child blinked. He sighed. Someone needed to watch over the kid all the time or he would lose his mind.
"I can watch over him until we're at Kooriva."
He turned to her, the unnamed doctor. She probably referred to him as the Mandalorian. And both of them called the child – the child. Three nameless entities.
"Thank you. I appreciate."
He trusted her with his wound. With the food for the kid. She seemed discreet. Didn't ask questions as to why the child was so unique. So he donned his armour and left for the cockpit, hoping to get a wink of sleep before they reached their destination.
She had joined him in the cockpit for the final approach to the planet and was sitting next to him in the co-pilot's chair. It was quiet between them, the child observing the approach from behind. He would need to feed it first thing they landed, something solid and good, because a soup alone could not feed a growing baby.
"This is Nurgad control tower. Head to the docking bay T22."
"Nurgard? They must be crowded if they're hailing you from there," she let it slip, more to herself than to him.
"You know this place?"
"I was here on several occasions."
He tensed, his instincts trained to pick up anything with a meaning, and she seemed to sense it.
"Relax, Mando." She raised her hand. Her eyes were clear as she scanned his visor. "Who you are and where you're going with the child are your business. I… I need to find my way as well, but I certainly don't want to interfere with yours."
The double-meaning of her words probably had escaped her. He replied nothing to that and opened the frequency to hail the planet below.
"Copy that, Nurgard."
He shot through the atmosphere and glided them over a lush forest stretching as far as the eye could see. Straight ahead was Nurgard, a town pretending to the name of a city, build near a lake and with vegetation so dense that he scrapped the lower branches of a tree upon the docking.
The doctor was ready and packed when he opened the doors, the hydraulic condensation surrounding them in misty puffs. She looked to him and nodded, smiling a little smile. So that was it. He helped out a stranded girl and she had helped him in return.
He looked down to his feet. And took the kid into his arms. No chances will be taken.
"I know a good place to eat. For him." She nodded to the little one in his arms as they descended down the gangway.
Even through his armour, he could feel the hot, humid air enveloping him. It literally felt like entering an oven, the warmth quickly permeating him straight to the bones and the beads of perspiration dripping down his back. And the helmet wasn't helping, too. The holonet didn't joke when it said this planet wasn't particularly made for any other species but Koorivans. The sooner they left this place, the better.
"Lead the way," he said, throwing a fuel coin to the Sullustan who had just entered the docking area from the workshop.
She smiled happily, looking eager to help, and the kid squeaked. There was definitely some chemistry there. The doctor had made a good job helping him to watch over the little one. Whatever happened now, picking her up was a good deal.
Entering a Koorivar city, its streets partially shaded from the scorching sun by the abundant growth, was akin to descending into a field of crickets. The subtle and not so subtle wheezing, whistling and hissing of the crowds of tall Koorivans pierced through his helmet receptors and grated on his nerves, but the child seemed unbothered. It was turning its head to take everything in, the colours, the flying bugs, the hanging vines. And when its eyes landed on the doctor, who was leading them with steady steps, tiny green palms shot out, trying to reach the bantha cloak.
"You want the bantha or the doctor?"
She turned to them, smiling, looking straight into his visor.
"I heard that. And we're there." She pointed with her chin to a stony entrance, half-covered with hanging moss and other plants he didn't recognise. She entered first, and he followed her, passing under the waterfall of green leaves and vines. He was already few steps into the dimly lit and sparsely crowded eatery when he realised that the kid had grasped a particularly long and leafy vine, determined to take it with it to the table.
"Let it go, kid." He tried to disentangle the child's grasp with his hand, but it held fast, cooing and seemingly chuffed about this new game.
"Here, let me."
She was by him and set his hand aside gently, working her fingers through the smaller, chubbier, green ones. The kid's face fell when the vine disappeared from his grasp and she stroked its chest with her knuckles, reassuringly.
He felt something stir inside him. Did she and the child connect when he was taking a nap in the cockpit? She pointed a table by the wall and he sat the child between them. His back was to the wall and he had visual access to every corner of this place. Bearing a wide grin, the doctor bent to straighten the collar of the kid's tiny-sized cloak.
"What are you so happy about?" he asked. She was growing more caring about the child whenever he looked. But maybe it was a womanly thing, to give freely their affection to smaller creatures.
"It's good to change your environment from time to time."
With that he couldn't argue.
"And I'm hungry."
He looked closely at her. She was positively beaming when a female Koorivan approached them shortly.
"What for you, Outsiders?"
"Soft meat for the child."
"Rings of Hudalla. No onion," the doctor said with a smile.
"Picky Outsiders. Coming right up," grumbled the host and left.
While they waited, he scanned the surrounding with his normal and enhanced vision for any trace of danger or unwelcome surprise. Most of the guests were natives, with their horns and noses in their bowls, and the two Ishi Tibs in merchants' garb and another two Sullustan mechanics were also minding their business, too busy chatting between each other to pay any attention to the Mandalorian's unusual party.
He turned to the doctor and was met with her careful gaze.
"Thank you for accepting me on board," she said, scanning his visor as if trying to pierce it to reach to his eyes. "I waited for so long… Thank you."
He nodded and in that moment the host returned, setting the bowl of tender meat pieces before the child and something that looked like discs covered in sizzling, brown bacon before the doctor. He gave the matron credits due for the meal and she snatched them, leaving them without a word.
"No, please, I can pay for myself," the doctor was already reaching to her pocket.
"It's fine."
She studied him and nodded slowly. And before even touching her food, she turned to the child.
"Here you go, little one. No, that's not for you, it's too heavy. This is for you." She gave it one of the pieces and the kid swallowed it whole. Only when they were through half of the bowl did she touch her food. Feeding the child with one hand, she took one of the rings to her mouth with the other hand and sunk her teeth in it, tearing a piece. Some juice dribbled down her chin and she wiped it off with her little finger. It looked damn good. And the kid was happy with his food, too. He needed to take it on the go for them.
She had just managed to take another bite and wipe her fingers when a foreign voice took them all by surprise.
"Who are my eyes seeing?"
So engrossed was he in the observation that he had failed to notice a Koorivan who stood by the counter close to their table, speaking straight to the doctor. He cursed under his breath for his lack of vigilance and the doctor visibly tensed upon hearing the voice. She was rigid and her face from friendly, relaxed and warm went to tense and closed-off, an indifferent mask. She now had the same reserved aura around her as when he had met her in the forest.
"Neyssir Dyroth," she said in a level tone, adding a subtle gesture to aid her words.
"Siri Reed," the Koorivan greeted her, accompanied by a gesture as well. "Haven't seen you around lately. How's business?"
"It's good."
"Your nervous twitch says otherwise."
She was hungry. There was a hole in her stomach and she was surprised that it didn't alert the Mandalorian. And when they had finally landed, not even his intimidating aura was able to hold her joy upon the prospect of food.
To say this man had a presence was a grave misunderstanding. Yes, he was a great caretaker and she wasn't scared of him per se. Yes, she had noticed the carbonite freezer and guessed he must have been a retired or a vacationing bounty hunter and the fact that he hadn't apprehended her build a trust in her. But he exuded such an aura that could not be compared with anything. It was a presence that she did not want to disturb. If she could. So, she stayed in a respectful distance. Wary of his boundaries. Promptly kept shut about the carbonite, lest he remembered his calling and decided he would want to earn few credits.
No. She somehow doubted he would do that. But still, it was best to keep the distance. It was a miraculous ride and she would not peep into the teeth of a gifted horse.
The fact that the destination was Kooriva was adding to the incredible conjunction of miracles. It was the planet she least expected a bounty hunter to emerge from the bushes. She could start off nice there, if she spoke to the right people in the right order.
And the child. How had such a creature found its way with a man clad from head to toe in armour was beyond curious. But she would ask no questions. This was just a ride. A small gift to be in the presence of those two. Accept it and don't look back. She was more than sure that the Mandalorian would take the best care of the child after they would have parted ways today.
"Who are my eyes seeing?"
And that was a Koorivan she would rather not speak in the first place.
"Neyssir Dyroth." Keep calm. You've done it countless times.
"Siri Reed." In the corner of her eye she saw the Mandalorian leaning his head a fraction to the side. Had he heard her name? Did he know she was a wanted person? "Haven't seen you around lately. How's business?"
"It's good."
"Your nervous twitch says otherwise."
Blasted Koorivans. Of course he would see right through her.
"I was taking a break. Might drop by your office later." Kindly go away, Dyroth.
"Please do, little human. Always welcome." He smiled, his gaze lingering for a moment upon the child, and dropping a coin onto the counter, he sauntered away to the exit without looking back.
"Trouble?" asked the Mandalorian with his modulated voice.
She allowed herself to take a big breath and lean on the back of the chair.
"Nuisance. An old associate."
An unspoken question of what was she doing in the past hung in the air. But the Mandalorian would not ask it, she was sure of it. Their association ended today and no more details were necessary. The less they knew, the better.
The baby squeaked.
"No, you can't have this, little one. It's processed food, and you need nutrients to grow strong and healthy. You can eat it when you're as old as me."
She could swear she heard the Mandalorian make a sound and looked at him questioningly, but he said nothing.
It was fine. All was fine. The encounter with Dyroth stressed her our and drove away her appetite, so she would pack the second ring to have a snack for later, but not before saying goodbye to the child. She took it on her lap and picked up some fallen crumbs of meat off its clothes.
"It was great pleasure meeting you." The little creature looked up to her, blinking and squeaking. "Be a good child to your guardian, ok?"
And then the blood in her veins froze as she heard a safety switch of a blaster clicking from the entrance to the eatery.
"It was damn hard to find you."
The Mandalorian was faster. Siri only managed to see that it was a human hunter before a chair came flying in his direction, kicked by the beskar-protected leg and then she and the child were scooped and dragged on the floor behind the counter. She heard the patrons fleeing from the eatery. It was painfully close quarters in this place. They needed to get out.
A blaster shot tore through the plates hanging on the wall behind them and the clay and glass clattered around them. She hugged the child close to her, embracing its head.
"Be a good bounty and come out."
The Mandalorian leaned over the counter and shot a few times, forcing the hunter into hiding.
"I'm so sorry!"
"What are you apologising for?" he asked without looking to her, scanning the wall behind them.
"They're after me! I risked the child's safety. I'm so sorry…"
"You have a bounty on your head?" The Mandalorian turned his attention fully to her. Siri saw her paled reflection in his helmet.
"Yes."
"Then we don't know who is he after."
"What?"
A chair flew over the counter and shattered the remains of the plates along with some wine bottles. More steps sounded and entered the eatery.
"Come on, Mando! You and that gremlin."
"Now we know," said the Mandalorian. "Come on, there is a back exit there. I'll cover you." He pointed to the back door that were ajar.
Don't tell me we're both wanted. She grabbed her blaster and lunged to the door, hearing the fire opening behind her and soon the heavy steps of the Mandalorian followed.
"There's the exit," Siri panted and they ran through a narrow corridor, the chase on their tail. Wanted or not, she will not let them have this little one. She was holding so tight to the baby that her arm was losing the feeling, cramped.
The Mandalorian ran past her, kicked the door open and they jumped into the humid heat of the street, running back to the ship. A blaster sounded behind them, angry red hits spattering the stone walls. One of the shots nicked Siri in the arm. They were close. Just one more corner.
The Mandalorian grabbed her after they rounded that corner.
"I'll finish them off. Run to the ship. When you're in, initiate a lockdown."
"There's too many of them!"
"Run with the child."
His first priority.
She nodded and ran. She could do this.
No one bothered her on the street as she sprinted and soon she was by their docking bay. The Sullustan that had received them was absorbed in wrenching a turbothrust converter coil, he didn't even look up. Siri was about to thank the Maker in her thoughts when someone walked out of the shadow of the ship, blocking her way.
"Not so fast, little human."
Dyroth. She stopped, panting, sweat rolling down her temples and her back in streams.
"Step aside. This is not your business."
"Oh, but it is. It was a very good deal." The Koorivan was approaching her steadily, blaster in his hand pointed at her and the child. There was no way she could shield it with her body were any open fire break out.
"You don't stand a chance against a Mandalorian." She would talk her way out of this until he is back.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But the deal was good." A step into her direction.
"And you have no idea what you're up against. Keep your head low, Dyroth."
"Nimble with words like a fox. But maybe you want to share the reward with me, Siri Reed. They're paying handsomely."
"You disgust me."
The child cooed.
Your dad will be back soon.
"You know the rules."
"You lizard!" she could not believe the audacity. "I could've shipped those converters to the Gungans instead of you. They would've liked it better!"
Dyroth smiled.
But whatever he had wanted to say was lost, because a shot from behind her put a smoking hole through his chest. His lifeless, reptilian body fell down with a dull thud.
"Come on, hurry."
Siri didn't have to be told twice and soon they were both inside, scrambling to the cockpit. The Mandalorian took the child from her arms and after making sure that it's unharmed, put it in its crib by the wall.
Only when they were in the hyperspace, off to somewhere in the Outer Rim did her thoughts un-freeze and she absorbed what in the Sarlacc's pit had just happened. And what would possibly happen now.
She had expected a barrage of question, but instead the Mandalorian told her to come with him to the lower deck.
"You're hurt."
What? Was she hurt?
Oh, Maker, she was hurt.
Her right sleeve was drenched in blood and only now acknowledging the wound brought about the pain. It was just a nick, but it had bled profusely. She had probably left some of her blood in the cockpit as well.
"The first aid kit is…"
But he had already all the tools out.
"Sit down."
Can't oppose that command. So she sat. And when the helmet bore into her, she sighed and stripped down to her undershirt, giving the Mandalorian access to a really nasty tear in her upper right arm. If she was counting in her head correctly, there was only a universal sanitiser left. And the suture with the needle. Yes, that was all that he had put on the table.
"That was a really good tunic." She held it now close to her chest to not freeze to the bone.
"It is imperial." He had removed his gloves and sanitised his hands.
"Sturdy imperial fabric, can't fool your eye." She looked up to his visor. He must have probably felt stripped bare when she had been tending to him. Now it was her turn. A man full clad in beskar armour, towering over her and she sitting in a tank-topped undershirt. "Can't afford to throw away good stuff."
He grabbed her arm in his both hands, gently. They were warm, slightly rough compared to how soft the skin on his arm felt. What was the universe that she had wandered into? Must have been the adrenaline and the blood loss, and the overwhelming fear for the child in her heart.
She couldn't help a hiss escaping her lips when he slathered her wound with the sanitiser. A convulsion almost crawled through her and she leaned her head on his breastplate. He worked in silence and Siri closed her eyes. It was the sharp twinge of an open wound, his warm hand encircling her arm and stings of the suture. She was focusing on her breathing. In, deeply, out, evenly.
She opened her eyes and straightened when he let go of her arm. With a gesture conveying certainly not an undying love to the late Empire, he cut a clean strip of her tunic and bandaged her wound. Then, he handed her the bantha cloak and she tucked herself warm. She was on the run and needed new clothes. She was on the run and had no idea where she was currently headed.
"Thank you."
He put his gloves back on and sat opposite her. No strip of Mandalorian skin was visible. Only the beskar.
"So, what converters did you want to ship to the Gungans?" asked a low, modulated voice of the Mandalorian.