"Why didn't you attack them?" He finally asked when we were in the cockpit and leaving the hanger. I slowed my breathing and wiped the sweat from my forehead.

"I kicked that one guy," I said, my ego bruised. I held my shoulder and twisted it in small circles, surprised that it was actually feeling better. The Mandalorian pulled the lever to demand the ship resume in autopilot.

"That's not what I meant."

"Like I said earlier, it's not something I do very often."

I cleaned my face of the dust and shuffled through my bag, happy to see nothing was stolen. I tucked my hair up and began rubbing my palms on my thighs, anticipating our destination. It had been several minutes of thick silence, nothing but the cold metal of the Razor Crest and the stars around us. Beside me, the child cooed, his fingers wrapped tightly around a metal ball.

"So, Nevarro, huh," my attempt to be casual was ineffective. He peered at me from over his shoulder but didn't answer. "Why help me? You were ready to leave."

"I owed you one. Now we're even," The Mandalorian said, and continued to stare ahead at the surrounding galaxy. I waited, watching his gloved fingers fumble with the control board in frustration. The beasts that repaired the Razor Crest almost made it worse—netting was strung around us, and it felt damp within the cockpit, no matter how much the Mandalorian blasted the heat. Feeling defeated, I laid my head back against the headrest and allowed the tension in my shoulders to release.

"You're not going to ask questions, then?" I asked after some more time went by. The uncertainty in our situation made me speak up. With news of the Empire returning and our destination being Nevarro, I felt anxious—and I couldn't stop the words from coming out. The Mandalorian twisted in his seat to look at me. I was taken aback a bit at his dramatic gesture.

"I won't ask questions, as long as you help me with the kid. That includes going to Nevarro."

I nodded once, thinking to myself, as if I have much choice at this point. "I see," I maintained eye contact with him and leaned forward. "But you don't know anything about me."

He was still. The stars within the galaxy reflected off of his beskar. "What made you want to get off of Tatooine?"

I flexed my jaw and closed my eyes hard, trying to decide the best and simplest way to tell the Mandalorian the truth without providing too many details. "I had bad company there." He waited, signaling that my response was not nearly satisfying enough. My palms began sweating. "I managed to keep my identity hidden for a while, but people began catching on to who I was. I'm sure you can imagine which part of me I was trying to keep hidden. I had to leave."

"Similar people that will be interested in you in Nevarro?"

My eyes widened. Though he wasn't wrong, I didn't think he needed to know specifics yet. I swallowed hard, raising my chin a bit in an attempt to look confident. "In a way," the Mandalorian's head cocked to the side just a tad, enough for me to realize he wasn't buying my cover up. I inhaled sharply. "What is this child?"

He watched the creature for a moment, now asleep, contemplating what information he, too, wanted to share. He pulled the shawl around the child in a fatherly manner and sighed. I watched this bizarre behavior thoughtfully.

"There were people who are descendants of the Empire who sent me to kill him. I couldn't. I don't know exactly what they're after, but they're still tracking him to capture him. I've been protecting him and trying to get him back to his kind," he folded his hands together. "He is special in a way that I can't explain—similar to what you have, but he can't move ice like that. It's different."

"But—" I said, interrupting him, "The Empire…how can this be?"

The Mandalorian fiddled with the ammo on his chest as he spoke. "They never left, only remained in hiding until recently. Even still they've not announced their return."

My heartrate was briefly elevated. How close could I have been to the Empire without knowing? I felt sick at this thought. The New Republic saw value in my abilities, but the Empire was worse. They saw danger, and for reasons only the Empire could justify. "And you were hired to bring this child to them, then?"

"Yes," he responded pointblank. He seemed disinterested in our conversation, likely having repeated himself so often in the past. "Clearly, it didn't go over well." He traced the child's wrinkly forehead. "I've never seen anything like him."

"Huh," I said, thinking the contrary, like I'd seen his tiny face somewhere before. I kept this to myself for the time being. "Though we both have abilities, he's certainly not my kind. We don't look like—" I waved my hand to signal the child's appearance "—that. We are humans."

"So, there are more of you?"

I eyed him suspiciously. "That's not what I said," though I knew the Mandalorian heard me loud and clear. We are humans. There were surely more of my kind somewhere in this galaxy. He made a mental note of this and broke eye contact with me to watch the child sleep more.

"When did you learn to move the ice?"

I crossed my arms and laughed lightly, a pleasant sound that sent a spark in the Mandalorian's chest. He ignored it.

"I was taught. I had a mentor," my voice trailed off at the memory for a second. "And it's not just ice. It's most elements—earth, fire, air, and water. Ice is just another version of water, in a way, and so I can control it," I looked at his armor up and down. "You know, beskar is not man-made. It comes from the natural world in some way."

Catching on to what I was saying, the Mandalorian stiffened. I couldn't stop my laugh from genuinely escaping my throat, but the Mandalorian relaxed anyway, the happiness that filled the cockpit momentary but appreciated. I shook my head, a smile strewn across my face.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to destroy your beskar—I'm not even sure I could—but the reaction was well worth it."

He turned in his chair, finished with whatever conversation we started to have, and sat further back in his seat. He hung his head and maneuvered to get comfortable to try and sleep for a while before getting to Nevarro. I sensed this and crossed my arms, leaning my head against the Razor Crest and appreciating the warmth from the vent behind me. The child stirred in his sleep, and the ship flew on, sailing through the galaxy and towards Nevarro.