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Chapter Six
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Elsi wasn't entirely sure if she was conscious or not.
It certainly didn't feel like she was asleep, but she definitely wasn't awake either. She could still feel her injuries; her spine, her head, and everything else - they hurt - but from far away, like remembering the pain of a childhood injury.
Then, all at once, she was absolutely awake.
Reality grabbed her in a burst of steam and light. Her legs weren't prepared for the rest of her weight, so she crumpled straight to the ground - or at least she figured that it ought to be the ground, because she had absolutely no sense of up or down.
A soft noise, a panicked half-gasp half-cry burst from her unbidden as she fought to regain her bearings. It was hard though, because she really couldn't see much of anything. Her vision was fogged over like window panes on a cold morning. She tried squinting through it, but it didn't help.
Her heart was pounding wildly, but she swallowed down her panic, recalling what she knew about Carbonite and the accompanying sickness. Her sight would clear soon. She just had to be patient.
But patience wasn't exactly something she could afford. The heavy binders that were being snapped around her wrists were evidence enough of that.
Elsi stopped struggling when a pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders and shifted her bodily out of the carbonite harness. She slumped against the wall, resting her head against the cool metal of the Razor Crest's hull and closing her eyes. Through the metal, she could still feel the hum of the engines - still in flight, then. But not for long, according to the subtle jolts and rumbles that made her stomach twist. Flying through a planet's atmosphere was never as smooth as the emptiness of space.
Tiny hands clutched at the hem of her dress. Elsi opened her eyes to see the muddled green and brown shape of the child standing by her legs. He cooed. Concerned.
No matter the situation, Elsi always had a smile for him. With shaky hands, she picked him up and brought him to her chest - albeit awkwardly, on account of the cuffs. His fuzzy little head bumped against her chin. He hid his face against her neck, purring to let her know that he was alright.
Elsi sighed and held him close, savoring these precious few minutes she had left with him.
The baby chirped happily, oblivious to - or perhaps uncomprehending - her despair.
By the time the Mandalorian came for them in the hold, Elsi's vision had returned. She was peeved to see that the bounty hunter seemed none the worse for wear. Where she was bruised and trembling, he stood steady. But then again, only he knew just how much damage the armor hid.
"It's time to go."
The baby laughed when the Mandalorian plucked him out of her arms and placed him back in his bassinet. The hunter then took Elsi by the elbow and pulled her to her feet. Although she had no choice in the matter, he was careful not to hurt her, holding her steady while she reacquainted herself with her balance and not urging her forward until he was sure she wasn't going to pitch back over.
The hatch opened to reveal a planet of volcanic rock and black sand. The shipyard where the Crest had landed was just beyond the gates of a rough looking town of stone. The other ships in the shipyard were much like the Mandalorian's - tough, but broken and cobbled back together so many times that they looked as if a well-aimed kick would knock them down.
The Mandalorian nudged her onto the ramp, keeping a firm hold on her upper arm.
"You don't want to do this," Elsi urged. It was the closest she would ever come to pleading. "They've wanted him for a long time. His life means nothing to them. They'll kill him if it suits them."
The black visor stayed fixed on the town ahead. She didn't think it was because he didn't sympathize with her - if he hadn't, he wouldn't have insisted on the removal of her collar - but she also knew that sympathy wasn't enough. The Outer Rim was hard and unforgiving, and so were the people who lived there. Elsi was a survivor, and it had driven her to try and take the Mandalorian's life. The Mandalorian was another survivor, and it was driving him to turn them in.
She tripped on the rough ground, her weakened body overbalanced and she nearly collapsed. The Mandalorian paused, arm snaking around her waist to prevent her from hitting the ground.
Elsi went for the knife in his boot. The vibroblade slashed upwards, biting viciously into the Mandalorian's side. In a perfect world, it would've been a clean stab, and the bounty hunter would've bled out fairly quickly, but the awkwardness of the binders caused the angle to be bad, so it only left behind a shallow gash.
With a grunt of pain, the Mandalorian shoved her away before she could inflict more damage. Elsi hit the ground hard. The Mandalorian was quick to wrest the knife from her hands.
Elsi gasped when he grabbed her by her bound wrists and dragged her back to her feet. By now, there was no doubt that whatever sympathy he'd harbored for her was gone; and Elsi was done pretending to ask for it.
When he tried to urge her forward once more, she fought. She threw her weight backwards, trying to catch him off balance; she tried to bite the arm that held her, with moderate success. By the time they made it to the gate, Elsi had dragged what should've taken maybe two minutes into almost ten, and she really and truly was on what she thought might be her last legs.
She was exhausted. The side of her face that had been smashed by the Mandalorian's helmet was swelling, and thus throbbing and hot. The back of her head felt even worse. Not to mention the mild carbonite sickness that swirled in her stomach, unhelped by the fact that she couldn't remember the last time she'd had anything to eat or drink. Still, she fought on.
The Mandalorian managed to keep his composure, sticking with the tactic of impassively tugging her forward while she struggled, but Elsi could feel his patience wearing thin. She wouldn't have been surprised if he just went ahead and shot her to save himself the trouble. Hell, she wouldn't have blamed him. But he didn't. He didn't draw his blaster. He didn't try to hurt her - quite the opposite, in fact.
When she stumbled, he caught her every time.
The baby watched all this with wide eyed bemusement, ears flapping in the wind, not knowing what to make of it all.
In town, she continued to struggle, making the Mandalorian battle for every step. It was pointless, she knew. Even if she managed to slip him, she wouldn't be able to get the baby, too. And if somehow she did, he'd catch up with them before they made it off world, but she'd be damned if she was going to make it easy.
Finally, Elsi found the end of the hunter's patience.
"Stop it!" the Mandalorian snarled. The hand that was curled around her upper arm tightened like a steel band and jerked her roughly to the side.
A soft grunt escaped her as her back collided with one of the stone walls. The Mandalorian's free hand pressed firmly against her sternum, holding her in place. He towered over her, menacing, crowding, cornering. A wall of beskar hiding her from the rest of the town - from the baby.
She could hear the child twittering nervously from somewhere over the Mandalorian's shoulder.
Elsi tried to break his grip by ducking sideways. The hand on her sternum relocated to the base of her throat.
"Will you just - "
The other people passing through the narrow street gave the pair a wide berth. The slave didn't bother calling out to them for help. She knew how it worked. If anyone cared about a battered woman getting manhandled, they weren't about to challenge a Mandalorian on her behalf.
Instead she scrabbled angrily at the hand that was putting just a bit too much pressure on her neck and fought to twist out of his hold on her arm.
"Hey!" The Mandalorian gave her a rough shake to remind her that he could make her stop struggling if he wanted. When her gaze finally snapped up to meet his visor, he continued.
"You keep this up in there, they'll kill you," he warned, modulated voice lowering so that only she could hear. "They'll off you as soon as you're more trouble than you're worth. You cooperate, you've got a shot at walking away."
Elsi curled her lip in disdain, eyes flashing.
"Your concern is touching," she sneered. "They're going to kill me either way. I'm a slave. My life is nothing. What are they going to do with the baby?"
He might've opened his mouth to respond, but whatever explanation or retort he might've had was cut off with a pained groan. Something gripped at his back, rippling unnaturally up his spine from hip to neck, and dragged him backwards.
The Mandalorian staggered back a few steps, struggling to whirl around to face his attacker. When he managed it, he found the space behind him empty, save for a floating pram. The pram's inhabitant was reaching towards them with a chubby, three-fingered hand, large eyes narrowed in concentration.
The Mandalorian gasped as the invisible hand tightened its grip, testing the hold. As his spine creaked, both adults were suddenly hyper-aware that the child could snap his back like a twig, vertebrae by vertebrae."Hey! Don't - "
The baby had taken to the Mandalorian quickly, but now the tiny green creature didn't seem so sure. He released his hold upon hearing the fear in the Mandalorian's tone, but then turned his expectant gaze towards his surrogate mother. The child's ears were flattened against his shoulders when he reached in her direction with a frightened squeak.
Elsi, now free from their captor's grasp, made a beeline for the baby. She smoothed the fuzz on his head and pressed a kiss to his wrinkled brow. The baby patted her cheek in reciprocation and responded to her reassuring murmurs with soft chirps.
Guilt washed over her like a wave. It wasn't the first time the child had used his abilities to protect her, and every instance signified a failure on her part. She was supposed to protect him, not the other way around. Even when she couldn't, it was up to her to make him feel safe and secure. What had she been thinking, flailing around like that? Doing so had done nothing to change their situation, and now the baby knew that they were in trouble.
She didn't want him to be afraid. Didn't want him to worry. That was her job.
The nanny nuzzled the top of his little head and breathed deeply, relishing in his familiar earthy smell combined with the stiff soap from his last bath. She let it wash over her senses. Drawing strength from it and committing it to memory. They would be saying goodbye soon, if they weren't already saying it now. Probably for good. No matter which of them died or which survived, she didn't want him to remember her by her fear.
Her dignity - especially in the eyes of the child - was all she had left.
So when the Mandalorian, seemingly unshaken by the baby's actions, prodded her in the back to get her moving, she did so with her head held high.
She didn't beg or plead when they arrived at the thick steel door sequestered away in an alley - the Mandalorian had made it clear that this delivery was non-negotiable, and she wasn't in the habit of repeating an action if it wasn't sensible. She didn't flinch when the sensor shot out from the wall. Didn't cower when the shabby stormtroopers crowded around the trio and herded them into the dark corridor beyond.
The corridor was hot. Oppressive. The air stale. Heavy boots clunked on the dirty floor, stirring up dust that tickled Elsi's nose and threatened to make her sneeze.
The baby squeaked for her, dark eyes wide and nervous. She leaned forward slightly to catch his attention and offered him a soft smile - which he returned.
The trooper behind her jabbed his blaster none-too-gently into her back, causing her to stumble a step.
"Take it easy," the Mandalorian warned, voice low and imposing in the stifling air.
"You take it easy," the Stormtrooper snapped in reply.
They were led to a brighter, but equally dingy room that looked to be a repurposed warehouse. An old man hunched at a desk, ignorant to the smell of mildew and rust. The man's face sagged with age, sullying what probably had once been proud, angular features. The only hair he had left was stiff and white, plastered to the sides of his head, leaving the top wrinkled and bald. He first surveyed the entourage with the disdain born of false superiority until his sharp, beady eyes picked out the green baby floating at the Stormtrooper's hip. Despite his advanced years, the old man immediately stood and hurried over to the pram, waving a blinking tracking fob around in front of the bewildered child.
"Yes. Yes. Yes," the man muttered to himself with an excitement that - based on the curious tilt of a nearby stormtrooper's helmet - Elsi assumed was uncharacteristic of him.
Elsi came to stand beside the cradle, flanked by the Mandalorian - something she was momentarily grateful for. She resisted the urge to fiddle with her cuffs as another man - younger than the first, with tinted glasses and dark, decently groomed facial fair - crossed the room to hover by the old man's shoulder.
The baby whined when the younger man scanned him, squinting when the bright red light shined directly in his eyes. Neither man took notice of his discomfort.
"Very healthy," the younger man commented, voice soft with fascination.
Elsi's insides shivered when the old man fixed her with his cold, watery gaze.
"Its caretaker is to be commended, then." Although the words themselves were not unkind, they made her skin crawl. The old man's presence alone invoked a visceral emotion, the same she might feel seeing a snake in the grass. "I imagine it has not been easy… caring for a child in these trying times. And even more trying circumstances."
She fixed the Imp with her best pleasantly-blank gaze, and said nothing.
Thankfully, the man's attention turned to the Mandalorian. "Your reputation was not unwarranted."
"How many fobs did you give out?" The Mandalorian's voice was as soft as ever, but the irritation in it was anything but.
The tension in the room thickened. The baby whined.
A sneer twisted the old man's thin lips. "This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery. But to the winner…"
The old man paced back to his desk. He reached around the back and extracted a large white, cylindrical case. It was set on the desk with an impressive clunk, showcasing the weight of its contents.
"... go the spoils."
The Mandalorian's head ticked minutely to the side, betraying his anticipation. The press of a few buttons and a twist of the handle caused the case to beep and hiss, and the sides fell away to reveal bars of metal, neatly arranged in dual stacks that gleamed brightly in the murky light.
The bounty hunter left her side with slow, measured steps, leaving Elsi with the baby, a Stormtrooper, and the scientist that was still hovering over the bassinet. He picked up two of the bars carefully and examined them with a sort of reverence that didn't seem entirely justified for any currency.
Elsi made the connection. Beskar. No wonder the Mandalorian had been so bent on the exchange. She didn't know much about Mandalorians, but she wasn't oblivious to the importance of Beskar. Even without taking the cultural value of the steel into consideration, it was a massive amount of credits. A small fortune, at the least.
I was right, Elsi mused. The payment in its entirety was clearly for the baby. Her value had been bartered and exchanged before her eyes a number of times, and she doubted it was equitable to a single bar.
"Such a large bounty for such a small package," the old man confirmed.
The scientist wrapped his hand around the edge of the baby's bassinet and urged it into motion. Elsi tensed, ready to follow, but was halted by a threatening prod from the Stormtrooper to her left. The Mandalorian turned his head and watched the baby as he was carted through a side door leading deeper into the facility. The child was looking anxiously over the edge of its crib, to Elsi.
She hated that she had no way to reassure him.
When the scientist and baby were safely out of sight, the old man flicked his fingers toward the Stormtrooper. The trooper nodded and took Elsi's arm in an iron grip. He shoved her forward and she had no choice but to comply as she was steered towards another door, one different to the one the baby had disappeared through.
The Mandalorian's visor glinted in the artificial light. Fixed on her, now. She didn't try to find the meaning behind the set of his shoulders and tilt of his head, though she passively registered that it might be regret. As far as she was concerned, he was no longer a part of the equation. So whatever amount of guilt he was or wasn't feeling was of no consequence to her. Guilt might be a bit much to expect. Maybe he was just thinking about how good it felt to fuck her and disappointed that he wouldn't get to do it again.
The thought didn't amuse her.
Not that her opinions mattered, anyway. She was ushered out of the room and into a slightly better lit hall. The door slid closed behind her, heralding the end of her brief, almost-freedom.
Not that she had expected anything else.
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