Maybe it was the suffocating stench of the smoke, or the man standing in front of me. Perhaps it was because I am suspended upside down in the air. Well, whatever was causing it, anger simmered in my breasts like a kindling flame ready to rupture.

"Qira, this is the last time I will ask you, where is the money?"

The tall man shifted his weight onto his left leg as if he had been standing there for days. It felt like days, at least. The sun was already setting behind the thick asper trees that grew near the edge of the village, molding vibrant colors across the landscape.

Maybe if I were sane, I wouldn't be in the situation I am in. Perhaps if I hadn't had so many drinks, I wouldn't be mumbling like a drunkard.

I am startled when the huge, brawny woman holding my body in the air shakes me till everything goes blurry and unfocused. The man barks out a laugh.

"You are the stubborn type, aren't you?"

"For good reason, Zuro." I snap.

Zuro was big, but he wasn't dumb. His soul was like the night sky, the darkest ebony with specks of light. This man only cared for what people could bring him, and if you couldn't get him what he wanted…

"Listen, girl; I haven't got all night. So, if you don't find any compliance, then I will have no choice but to toss you to the rathtars."

I arch a suspicious brow. "You have rathtars?"

His gaze flickers to the left for a fleeting moment before returning to catch my gaze. "Of course."

"If you think you could control me before, you can't now," I spread my arms wide so that my chest is vulnerable. "Come on, get it over with."

By the way Zuro bites his lower lip, I know this wasn't the outcome he had wanted. Well, buddy, it wasn't the outcome I had wished for either, but here we are.

And then it happens. Zuro crumples to the ground, a blaster hole fuming in his chest to the point I can almost see through it. Something whizzes past my head and strikes the woman. Her grasp on me instantly loosens, and I plummet to the relentless earth below.

"Dammit!" I shriek.

Instinct kicks in, and before the enemy can have another second to wind up an attack, I grab for my fallen blaster and point it towards the person.

He stands but meters away, his blaster raised and poised towards me as if provoking my next move. His entire body is covered in polished metal armor. Even his head is encased with a helmet, so I cannot see his features. And I know exactly who he is.

"A Mandalorian," I murmur under my breath. Then louder, I say," You're a Mandalorian?"

The figure doesn't so much as move to indicate he has heard me, but rather keeps all of his attention on the blaster.

I slowly start to stand up while still gazing at him with a trained eye. If there was one thing I learned about Mandalorians, it's that they take their bounties very seriously. Anything, and I mean anything in their way, will be quickly reduced to ash.

Something about him, the way he holds himself, or even the way he grips his blaster, is different. But I can't seem to put a definite finger on it, and that makes me irritated.

There are a few more moments of tense silence before he looks to the side and returns his blaster to its holster. Sensing a change in pace, I replace my own and cock my head to the side.

"Why are you here? Are you here to bring me in?"

The idea intrigues as much as disturbs me, for I do not know if I would want to face the Guild again.

He shakes his head. "No, just thought you were in trouble."

I take a sidelong glance at the bodies lying on the ground and give a firm nod of the head. "Well, thank you for that."

The Mandalorian bows his head and waits a few seconds before turning to leave.

"Wait!"

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I rush over to the man holding up a hand for him to stop. His black lensed helmet peers down at me as if I am a little pup running to its master.

"What can I do in return? It would be rude of me to let you leave without returning the favor."

"No," he says abruptly as if the very idea is a vile act of treason. "No need."

"But surely you understand," I press. "As is the Code. A Mandalorian must repay the duties of others, in which case I am in your service."

He stops walking and shifts towards me. "You are no Mandalorian."

I bite my lower lip. "Well, no, not exactly. But I was, and have lived by the Code for longer than I can remember. You of all people should understand the dedication of those who follow the Guild."

"Do not speak to me of such things," he retorts hotly. "I have been with the Guild since I was very young. I know the Code."

"Then, you will understand the need to repay you," I say, stepping forward. The Mandalorian visibly stiffens at my approach and grips his blaster tighter.

The sun has almost set behind the forest line. Deep shadows dance across the walls surrounding us and travel up to invade our surroundings.

"How can I trust you?" the man asks after a few moments of silence.

"Because I am honor-bound, and will only be with you until I work off my debt," I say with the most sincerity I have had in a long time.

If he believes me, he gives no indication whatsoever. I understand his initial hesitation. Some random scavenger asking to accompany you would leave me grappling for trust. He sighs, which is mostly static emitting from his helmet.

"Only until you pay off the debt," he says while turning around towards the center of town. "My ship is that way at dock fifteen. Wait for me there while I collect my supplies."

Hope fills in my chest as I make my way towards the shipping depot. Nothing like a job working for a hard-hearted Mandalorian. Something to do in these endless days that pass without remission of the past.

His ship is a pre-Empire gun vessel. It's a little rusted around the edges and has no doubt seen the wear and tear of several wars. The last bit of sun bounces off the polished alloy armor that covers it.

I walk beside it and allow my finger to trace the outline of the metal plates. A garbled, distorted image of myself flashes back at me.

The inside is much like the outside: battered and used. Crates of supplies or simply mechanical parts are strewn around the quarters with no rational order. I am careful what I touch in fear he will learn somehow of my snooping and promptly kick me off the agreement.

I am just starting to climb up the ladder to the cockpit when something moves in my peripheral vision. It startles me so much that I simply freeze where I am and wait a few seconds before shifting to see what it was.

Nothing catches my eye, and everything looks the same since the last time I checked.

Carefully I step off the ladder and grab my blaster from its holster. The feeling of being watched pervades my consciousness enough to make me shiver.

Once again, something moves to my right. I spin on my heels and point the blaster towards the trespasser. A very small trespasser, I find out.

At first, I cannot tell what it is. The creature has huge black almond-shaped eyes and long pointed tipped ears that bulge out from its small green wrinkled head. It is cloaked in a long cowl that drags on the floor when it walks.

I slowly lower the blaster and return it to its holster with a melodious click. I kneel and cock my head at this intriguing creature.

"You touch it, and you're as good as dead."

I jump in surprise and whip around to find the Mandalorian standing at the hangar door. He is facing me, undoubtedly with a scowl, though I can't know for sure because of the helmet.

"I wasn't going to," I say.

The man doesn't respond but turns and grabs one of the supply crates and starts walking it up the ramp.

"If you don't mind getting the rest of those," he sets the box down and turns to the small creature.

I take the hint and rise from my squatting position and begin lifting the semi-heavy crates into the ship. When the supplies are neatly stacked, I realize the little kid has disappeared, and the Mandalorian is nowhere to be seen.

Curious, I peer into the cockpit and catch a glimpse of the creature sitting in a makeshift cradle-like design. It turns its head and looks at me with those large sparkling black eyes.

"You make that?" I ask without taking my gaze off the strange animal.

The Mandalorian doesn't answer immediately. "No."

I nod my head in understanding while smiling at the little one. "Does he have a name?"

"No."

Not a very bright Mandalorian, is he? I decide to give up on the questions and head back down the ladder, only to find the hangar door is shut and bolted.

"Hey, Mando, what-?"

To answer the ship lurches forward, the engine creaking and groaning as the vessel takes to the air. Nothing like an unannounced take off to wake you up.

The supply crates shift slightly, the contents inside of them jumping around and straining against the latched covers. I move to secure them with a stray metal cord.

When I am satisfied they won't budge I step away and very nearly step on the green creature. It stops for a hesitant moment to let me pass before proceeding to a small room on the adjacent wall. More like a storage compartment, and it probably would be if it weren't for all the blankets and pillows that made it into a sheltered niche.

The Mandalorian climbs down the ladder before I can approach the child and stares at me appraisingly. What I hate most about his helmet is that I cannot determine what he is feeling or thinking, which gives me a weird sense of futility.

"You said you were a Mandalorian," he says coldly. "Yet you do not wear a beskar helmet nor our armor. Why is that?"

Was he seriously wanting a backstory?

"I used to," I say cautiously.

The Mandalorian leans against the alloy metal and stares at me intently. I swallow.

"But when I was sent out on my first assignment, the client turned against me," I make sure to keep any feeling from my words, so I do not sound like some emotional snob. "The Guild thought I was dead, so when I returned, they evoked my membership and sent me on my way. Lived out here ever since."

He doesn't say anything. I wait patiently for his response, though I fear I have somehow upset him with my story. As always, he gives no clear indication that I have.

Before he can respond, the child coos from his small room, green hands outstretched towards the Mandalorian. He sidesteps around the ladder and stands over the tiny creature, allowing it his finger. The child lets out another set of mews, and a smile brims on its face.

"So, how exactly did you two come about?" I ask curiously.

The Mandalorian turns his head slightly so that I can barely see the black lense. His beskar armor plates grind against one another as he moves.

"Oh, right. No questions asked, sorry."