CHAPTER I: PARTNERS
Despite there being hundreds of languages and cultures in the galaxy, a man being sliced in half had its own universal meaning. Everyone in the cold tavern watched the Mandalorian as he stood up straight and holstered his blaster. The cloaked figure beside him gave a swift nod, heading to the seat opposite from the tavern's only Mythrol.
Cloaked in darkness and silent as summer breeze, the figure sat across from the blue, amphibious creature and rested its arms on the smooth surface.
A nervous chuckle escaped the Mythrol. "That was some fancy fighting. Thank you. Thank you very much. You- you and your companion- have my heartfelt gratitude."
The Mandalorian made his way to the bar, motioning for a drink from the now-silent bartender.
Back at the table, the hooded one reached towards their cloak, gloved hands lifting it up and away from a scarf- wrapped face. They removed the rest of their facial covering in quick succession, revealing curly blonde hair and a tanned, feminine face. A scar marred the right side from cheekbone to chin, pulling her lips into a hard, permanent scowl. She sighed.
"Much better." She sing-songed, folding the cloth into a neat pile and setting it aside.
At the sight of her battle-worn and scarred face, the Mythrol put his hand on the table. "You know what? Here. You take my credits. Get yourself a drink."
The unmarred side of her face pulled into a smirk. "Oh no. He's got my drink." She tilted her head in the direction of the Mandalorian, who was making his way back across the tavern to stand motionless behind her after providing the aforementioned drink. "I'd prefer to take a look at this."
She withdrew a puck from the lapels of her heavy parka, tossing it on the table. The hologram displayed the same face which sat adjacent to her. The Mythrol looked to her, face dropping from the faux-gratitude he had shown her before.
"Oh. Is that a bounty puck?" He swallowed, looking between the woman and her stock-still sentry. "Is that me?"
The blonde licked her lips, bringing the glass on their table to her mouth. "Is that your name?"
"Look… There must be some mistake."
"Hm, doesn't look like it." Her high but deadly voice cut through his words like a vibroknife.
"I can get you more credits-" The Mythrol started, only to freeze when the Mandalorian shifted, one hand leaning onto the back of his companion's chair, the other reaching towards his blaster.
"I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold." The Mandalorian's voice was modulated and low, but the annoyance was clear. An impatient one, then.
The woman smiled at his words, looking up at the emotionless beskar helmet and then back to the Mythrol. "Listen. I'm a patient woman, but my partner is less inclined to such traits. It's your choice." She picked up the scarf and began wrapping it back around her face to ward off the cold beyond the tavern doors. "Make it quick, or he'll choose for you. And he's been pretty grumpy."
A brief look was exchanged between her and the Mandalorian before she replaced her hood and drifted out of the tavern. With one last glance around, the Mythrol downed the rest of her drink and stood, allowing the Mandalorian to cuff and escort him out of the building.
She was waiting when they exited, and began walking towards the frozen ocean without a word. The air was tense, and the Mythrol was looking around at the vast emptiness that was their surroundings. As they approached the Kubaz ferry station, the woman stopped. A few syllables of Kubazian were chirped at her, to which she just shook her head.
"We need passage to the yards." She twisted to look back at the Mandalorian. "No droids. I don't want to hear about it today."
The Kubaz played a few notes, watching the bounty party as their landspeeder approached. To the woman's obvious annoyance, an R2 model droid was piloting.
"I said no droids. Jeez, pay attention." She huffed.
The Kubaz chanted at her, waving a hand in the speeder's direction.
"I don't care, get me one without."
The Mandalorian tossed a credit in the Kubaz's direction, effectively halting his argument with the woman. After a few words and notes played, an old speeder idled their way, an older gentleman occupying the pilot's seat.
"Where to?"
The Mandalorian shoved his bounty forwards, and the Mythrol lifted himself into the speeder. The Mandalorian followed, hauling his tall, armored frame into the speeder. Their pilot turned to the cloak-covered woman, who was looking unimpressed at the lack of available seating.
"Squeeze on in between them. Can't have you rattlin' around on the floor."
With a scoff, she climbed into the already-cramped vehicle. Her hood blew off then, revealing her blonde hair to the frigid wind. Her eyes darted from the seat to the sky, at which point they rolled. "Mando?"
The bounty hunter unclasped his hands, allowing the woman to sit sideways across his knees to avoid being squished between them. She ducked away from the wind, ignoring glances from the Mythrol. It was rare enough to see a Mandalorian, let alone one who allowed an overly- sarcastic woman to sit across their lap.
"Do I smell that bad?" He tried to make a joke, but the woman's eyebrows lifted. Through the scarf, her voice was slightly muffled.
"Just- stop while you're ahead."
The old speeder jerked to life as the pilot received confirmation they were ready, and the arm of the Mandalorian closest to the Mythol lifted to rest overtop of his partner's thighs. She squeaked in surprise- the first time she had showed any other emotion aside from confidence and anger- and grabbed ahold of the Mandalorian's pauldrons for support.
"You know how to drive?" She snapped at the pilot.
"This is an old speeder, ma'am. Acceleration ain't workin' like it used to."
The sped across the ice for a silent few minutes, the man in the front seat looking through binoculars every few moments. Nervous as ever, the bounty once again spoke.
"You know what he's looking for?"
Neither bounty hunter responded, the only indication either had heard being the woman's icy blue eyes on him. Her gloved fingers tapped in an eerily specific pattern against the Mandalorian's vambrace.
"You're looking for Ravinaks, right?"
The older man turned his head back in the Mythrol's direction. "It's clear right now. Be careful at the ports. Everyone dumps their gray holds like the planet's their own personal stinkpit."
His voice was whisked in every direction by the wind, leaving the rest of their ride back to the hunters' ship in relative silence. Every flinch and shift from the Mythrol was followed by the blonde's sharp eyes, while the Mandalorian looked at ease beneath all of his armor. In spite of the fact that the woman did most of the talking, it seemed that the Mandalorian was indeed calling the shots.
The ship they eventually slowed to was an old vessel, surprising the amphibious man. With the reputation Mandalorians held for bounty hunting, it was assumed the ship would be more expensive. Newer, at least.
"You're kidding me, right?"
Using her petite size to his advantage, the Mandaloiran helped his partner up and out of the speeder before climbing down himself. They were a rather intimidating pair as they stood on the ice.
"Get out." Came the modulated command.
Hesitant to board such an old vessel, the Mythrol protested. "I'll hire us a Livery Cruiser. No big deal. It won't come out of your end. I'll pay for it."
He was led towards the ship by the Mandalorian, the female hunter watching the ice around them carefully.
"It's time to go, so let's settle up." Their driver called from his craft, looking towards the woman.
She shrugged, tossing a look over her shoulder. "Sunshine over there's got the credits."
The Mythrol could've sworn he heard a snort from the Mandalorian - Mando, as she had called him earlier- as he dug in his pocket to pay the man.
"I'd stay off the ice if I were you."
Rolling her eyes at the remark, the woman moved around the ship to the hatch and let herself in. The Mythrol looked to Mando, eyes scanning every inch of the polar ice.
"You really think there's something to worry about?"
Unsurprisingly, his captor was silent. The old man's speeder headed across the ice in the direction they had come, only to disappear in a split second before the fog enveloped it. A roar echoed across the frozen wasteland, and he scrambled backwards.
"Open the hatch! Open the hatch!"
He was dragged out of the way just as the massive Ravinak's tusks broke the surface of the ice. The Mandalorian shoved him towards the open hatch, ushering him up the ramp and into the cockpit. The ship lurched as the creature attacked, forcing the two men to move faster. They emerged into the cockpit in a flurry of steel and blue skin. The woman was sitting in the pilot's seat, one hand gripping her forehead and the other frantically flipping switches.
"Mando, what the hell was that?"
"Move." Mando grunted, gently nudging her from the pilot's chair. She lifted herself out, and stumbled when the ship jerked again. "Ravinak."
"Stay off the ice! That's the understatement of the millenium!" The Mythrol complained, frantically rocking in the co-pilot seat. "It's taking us down. What're you doing?"
A flurry of switched were flicked and 'Auto-pilot' flashed across the navicomputer screen. The Mandalorian stood, calmly making his way out of the cockpit. The woman pulled the scarf from her face and replaced him in the seat, while the blue man behind her scampered to the window to watch the bounty hunter. The hatch slid open, and from his vantage point the end of a rifle appeared, aiming quickly at the Ravinak before a blast rung out and the crackle of electricity could be heard inside the vessel. The Ravinak roared in pain, releasing the ship.
"You two are the real deal, huh?" The Mythrol, whose name she couldn't care to remember, asked.
"Guess so." She said flatly, switching off auto-pilot and flying the ship up and away from the broken ice. The Mandalorian returned shortly thereafter. His cloak hung limply behind him, while the scent of gunpowder followed him into the cockpit. Both hunters looked irritated, and the woman muttered something about her head hitting the console as she once again allowed Mando the controls. True to her word, a thin stream of blood dripped from her hairline.
"I'm going down to take care of this." She murmured, descending the ladder to the quarters below.
They traveled off-world in silence, and the Mythrol kept quiet until the darkness of space surrounded them and he couldn't take it anymore.
"I like your ship. She's a classic. Razor Crest, am I right?"
Silence.
"Pre-Empire?"
After a few futile attempts at starting a conversation with his actions-speak-louder-than-words captor, the Mythrol sighed. The desperation was setting in.
"What about the woman? She a bounty hunter too?"
That actually drew a reaction from the Mandalorian. His head angled ever-so-slightly in the direction of the co-pilot chair, but he didn't speak.
"Do you ever shut up?"
A feminine voice rang out behind the seats, and the woman hoisted herself up the last ladder rung. She had changed into black tactical pants and tall leather boots with a light gray long-sleeve top and blasters strapped to either thigh. Her curly hair was tied into a messy knot, the ringlets around her face escaping the band and dangling past her jaw.
The Mythrol sighed, facing back towards the front of the craft. He was not resigned to this fate. "I think I need to use the vacc tube. I mean, I can do it here, but if you've never seen a fledgling Mythrol evacuate his thorax-"
"Go. Just- go." The woman stopped him with a hand and motioned to the cargo hold.
"Thanks." He muttered, stepping aside to allow her full access to the cockpit.
The ladder had thin rungs and his boots slid on the worn metal. The vacc tube was the least of his concerns as he looked around. He found his excuse to his left, but wandered around the hold. He talked loudly, making sure to cover his snooping with his voice. Claiming that it might take awhile, he stepped towards the wall control panel. He tapped a few buttons, revealing an arms cabinet fixed into the rear wall. It slid open, but no sound came from the cockpit. He briefly inspected the weapons, furrowing his brow at the piece of parchment tacked to the top of one side that read 'Zakia's ONLY'.
Zakia was her name then. The Mandalorian was still a mystery, apart from the generic 'Mando' that everyone termed him. Knowing her name could be useful though. It was always good to know your enemies.
Continuing the pointless rambling to distract his jailers, he meandered to his right. There were three slabs hanging from the ceiling, one in front of the other. He approached slowly, calling out about being free for Life Day.
His blood ran cold at the realization that it wasn't just slabs. It was carbonite. Three figures, frozen in carbonite.
"...Maybe even get home to the family." He tried to keep his voice level, "But I guess that's not gonna happen this year."
He was out of luck before he knew it. The Mythrol turned, coming face-to-face with cold steel and a black visor. The Mandalorian grabbed him by the coat and swung him around until his back hit a wall.
"Night night." A sickly sweet voice chirped.
The last thing he saw before the blackness took over was two shards of ice staring back at him.
"Zakia."
The blonde huffed, shifting under her blanket so the disturbance was to her back.
"Zakia, let's go. We're on Nevarro."
The mention of Nevarro had her blinking awake, eyes searching the small living quarters. Zakia located the Mandalorian kneeling beside their bed in full armor, fingers prodding her shoulder. The dim lights glinted off his beskar helmet to cast a yellow glow onto her skin.
"What… was I asleep the whole trip?" She swung her legs to the floor so she could sit up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Zakia's legs ached in protest as she stretched out the cramping muscles. Gallivanting through a frozen wasteland for their Mythrol target had been low on her to-do list, but she knew the money from the job was needed. Prices were higher than ever, and the Razor Crest was far from efficient when it came to fuel usage.
"Yes. I'm taking the bounties in for reward." He answered, standing to full height. Zakia nodded, eyes sweeping over his familiar form. His shoulders were slumped just enough that she could read the exhaustion in his body, and it motivated her to move. The faster they turned in their quarries, the sooner he could come back and rest.
"You should have woke me. You're tired." Zakia stood and lifted a hand, resting it just under the brim of his helmet where metal met skin.
"I'm fine." He monotoned back, lifting his helmet away and exiting the room. A usual response for him.
Zakia knew better than to push the issue, and called after him. "I'll be ready in a minute."
He was checking the vitals of their frozen victims when she emerged into the cargo hold, dressed in thick black leggings and tall boots. Her duel blasters were strapped to either thigh, their weight familiar and comforting. She donned a gray jacket with a tall collar and cinched waist to ward off the occasionally breezy atmosphere of Nevarro.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm ready whenever you are." She told him, leaning against the wall near their arms case.
The Mandalorian dipped his head, nudging past Zakia to retrieve the keys for their bounties. He laid a gloved hand on her back, and gently bumped his helmet against the side of her head. She understood it as a silent apology for his shortness a few minutes prior, and swiftly kissed the cool steel. After spending years with someone hidden behind a mask for the majority of their time together, Zakia had learned to read the little things. The tilt of his head, the slope of his shoulders. All body language and sounds that his modulator didn't quite pick up, but escaped under the brim of his helmet nonetheless.
They walked into the bazaar single-file, as was their usual. Zakia led the way while Mando trekked behind. She knew he was keeping an eye on everyone, all while keeping her within his line of sight. Zakia was far from helpless, but she was petite compared to some of the mixed species in busy bazaars. Mando trusted her abilities, but a nagging fear was always present in the dark corners of his mind. He was cautious by nature- raised in the Fighting Corps where anyone could be lost in a moment's notice. Zakia was far too important to him- though he would never admit it in any presence aside from hers- to lose.
His companion wove her way across town, breaking through throngs of people all too busy to scold her. The tavern on Nevarro which the Bounty Hunter's Guild worked out of was bustling, and Zakia wrinkled her nose at the patrons. It smelled like blaster smoke and unwashed man inside, indicating it had been a good week for most hunters. Some turned and rumbled lowly about the pair as they entered, but no one dared stop them. They all knew who the top hunters were.
As excepted, Greef Karga was seated in his customary booth near the center of the tavern. He stood to greet the pair, gripping Zakia's hand in greeting. She gave a tight smile to the Guild boss, who motioned for them both to sit.
"The pair of you continue to impress me with the speed at which you apprehend targets. Did you catch them all?"
Zakia slid into the open booth across from Greef without a word. On their hunts Zakia did most of the talking, as bounties were generally more pleasant when dealing with her. However, on the opposite end of things, Mando's intimidation factor tended to increase their pay and receive the best pucks.
The keys to the slabs of carbonite aboard the Razor Crest were tossed onto the table, where Mando loosely held onto his end.
"I'll begin the offload." He told them. Greef called something out in Huttese, to which his goonies near the door nodded and headed out of the building. Mando unclipped the rifle strap from his shoulder and sat beside his partner, keeping the weapon within his reach. The small booth had them pressed together along the length of their bodies, drawing some stares that were quickly thrown back with twice the venom.
Greef had counted out credits for them, and Zakia watched with muted interest. Currency was not her specialty. A lack of impulse control could attest to that, and it was agreed that Mando handled the credits. She had a small amount with her at all times, but Mando managed all of the bounties and rewards.
"These are Imperial Credits." Mando deadpanned. Zakia rubbed at the scar on her cheek, kneading the knotted skin in an attempt to assuage the boredom creeping up on her. The argument about credits and which particular currency they came in was a tired one. Greef and Mando had the conversation far more times than Zakia cared to count.
"They still spend." Greef defended, setting his wrists on the table and taking a swig from his spotchka. Zakia cocked an eyebrow at his statement, gaze flickering to Mando and then to the distinctly marked square credits resting before them.
"I don't know if you hear, but the Empire is gone." Zakia could feel the tension in Mando's shoulders as he spoke to Greef.
"It's all I've got."
Mando reach forward and took the keys he had previously left on the table's center. Greef lurched forward, grasping his wrist to prevent the action. "Save the theatrics."
After Mando twisted his wrist away and cast a glare even Greef could see through the helmet, the man relented.
"Fine. I can do Calamari Flan. But I can only pay half." The deal was not necessarily fair, but Zakia knew it was better than the Imperial credits offered previously.
"Fine. " Mando grunted, swiping the Calamari credits from the table. Zakia stood from the booth, nudging the Mandalorian's arm.
"I'm getting a drink."
She swiped one of the Imperial credit chips from the table, ignoring Greef's weak protest at her actions. Zakia's approach was slow, and she pushed through prickly-looking women and burly men to get to the bar. A small area was unoccupied, and she sandwiched herself between a Twi'lek and a fairly large Trandoshan to take it.
"Haven't seen you around lately." The bartender that Zakia recognized as an old man named Jev, walked to her position as he wiped his hands on a rag. "That Mandalorian keeping you locked inside the ship?"
Zakia snorted, handing the credit chip over to Jev. "As if. He gets sick of me after a few hours in hyperspace, I doubt he'd wanna keep me locked in."
Jev chuckled at her remark, inspecting the chip. "What'll it be?"
"Whatever's good today." She told him. The feeling of being watched raised the hairs on Zakia's neck, and she turned quickly to catch the Twi'lek staring at her face. It wasn't unusual- the wound that caused her face to be marred was deep. Deep enough to damage tissue and the underlying muscle that helped her smile. It served to deepen every frown and make even her neutral expression appear angry. But years of living with it had dampened the effect of gawkers and curious stares.
"It's from a Wookiee." Zakia stared ahead at the bar as she spoke. "Nasty, isn't it?"
The Twi'lek woman shrugged, fingering the rim of her own glass while debating a response. Jev set Zakia's drink down as the other woman tilted her head back in the blonde's direction. "A Wookiee?"
Zakia gripped her drink and turned from the bar.
"Yep." She took a sip, cocking a brow at the sharp taste. "A Wookie with a vibroblade."
Pushing her way back to the table was less effort than leaving it. Zakia found her tablemates both leaning across the small surface, Karga extending an old-fashioned holochit to Mando. When the man spotted her reproach, he lowered the chit and halted whatever he had been saying.
Zakia stooped down and slid in next to Mando until their thighs were pressed against each other. Greef looked between them and then back to the Mandalorian as if for confirmation.
"What's going on?" She wondered aloud, casting a suspicious look between the two men. Her icy blue eyes reflected in Mando's visor, giving her nothing but a blank stare back.
"Give me the chit." Mando abruptly turned back to Greef, holding out a single gloved hand.
Greef complied, though Zakia still remained in the dark. Mando immediately climbed from the booth, swinging his rifle back to its place on his shoulder. He held out a hand to Zakia, who only stared at the appendage. A show of affection was oddly uncharacteristic for him, even one as small as a helping hand.
The blonde finished her drink in a single go, sending a scowl in Karga's direction. Not wanting to cause any further grief than what she sensed was coming, Zakia accepted Mando's hand and stood. The Mandalorian brushed out of the tavern, maneuvering Zakia in front of him as they exited.
"What's going on?" She halted as they exited the tavern, pulling Mando aside into a shaded corner between two buildings. A Jawa toddled in her direction, and she shooed it away as it pawed at her blasters.
"A high-profile bounty. No puck. Just the chit card." His voice was strained, even through the modulator.
"And what aren't you telling me?" Zakia asked, hands resting on her hips. She could tell something wasn't right by the way Mando was acting. He wasn't one for long speeches, but he usually explained where they were headed.
"I want you to go back to the Crest and make sure Karga's men didn't mess anything up. I am going to go find out about this target." Mando adjusted his rifle and picked at an imaginary spot of dirt on the sling.
Zakia's frown deepened, pulled down further by the bunched tissue of her scar. "We have Karga's men unload the ship twice a cycle, Din. What are you not telling me?"
He straightened at the use of his name. "I need you to go back to the ship."
Zakia was about to retort, when Din cut in. "Please."
A blonde eyebrow shot towards her hairline, but her expression softened. "Are you… cutting me out of this deal?"
"Of course not." Mando made sure no one was paying attention and lifted his hand, brushing a gloved finger down her jaw. "I don't like how Karga sounded when he spoke of the man putting up the bounty. I think it's better they think I'm working alone."
It was a hard point to argue. The secretive clientele who offered direct commission bounties preferred everything to be on a need-to-know basis. The fewer who knew about their normally illegal business, the better. Zakia smacked her lips after a moment of debate, looking up into the blank black visor.
"Alright, fine. I'll go. But you sync this-" she held up a com unit "-with your helmet, and leave the channel open the whole time. Beep me if something goes wrong."
Din nodded, tapping on his vambrace to do as she said. He withdrew a few credit chips as well, sliding them into the pocket of her jacket. "Pick up some rations for the ship. And I know you wanted a new coat."
Zakia cracked a smile at his thoughtfulness. "Maybe there is a brain under all that steel." She tipped forward onto her toes to kiss the cold helmet where his cheek would be. "I'll meet you back at the ship?"
"Back at the ship." Din confirmed.
They parted ways, disappearing into the bustling bazaar of Nevarro.