SUMMER INTERLUDE

Spring was beginning to melt slowly into summer, and Din was surprised to find that even the weather on Sorgan was ideal. It rained regularly, but the bright sunshine following every rainstorm made things cheerful and bright again, and the forest and fields were blindingly green. The kid was thriving, and Din had put on a couple of pounds due to Omera's stellar cooking, but he kept busy and thus avoided getting thick and pasty, a state no Mandalorian could countenance. The days were getting longer, and the nights were warm and still and he was even sleeping well—another anomaly.

He took the kid for walks almost every day, and little Teilo relished clambering around on rocks and tumbling down hills, getting dirty and being a total nuisance. An encounter with some kind of weird bird-like creature with teeth had sent the kid climbing up his armor and perching himself firmly on his shoulder, refusing to budge until the creature was out of sight (it ran away, chakking in terror, when Din growled at it). Other than that, life on Sorgan was pretty much an idyll. Good food, plenty to do, a beautiful, intelligent woman to talk to and at least look at, and a kid to keep him sharp made life pretty good. He taught Winta how to play cu'bikad, and didn't mind when she got good enough to bring him to a draw, though Omera was uneasy about her daughter learning how to throw blades.

It was the warmest day of the year so far, and Din had spent almost the entire day at the Razor Crest, doing repairs. He let the kid wander around and chase frogs and butterflies, but he was obeying orders to stay within sight. Din was struggling with a rusted-over bolt when he looked down and saw the kid waddling up to him, holding a squirming little forest creature with a pointed face, beady eyes, a prickly hide and mouth formed into a strangely beatific smile that had to be some kind of evolutionary charm failsafe against predators. That clearly did not work against little green kids, however. It looked like a walking pincushion, so perhaps it wasn't edible.

The boy squealed happily and hugged the creature, which kicked frantically but didn't seem to be in terrible danger.

"Oh no… " Din muttered. "Listen here, you cannot have a pet."

The kid burbled at him and held the wiggling creature up, eyes wide and appealing. He crouched down so that he was eye-to-eye with the boy.

"Teilo, that thing will chew out every electric wire on the ship. We can't take him."

Sure enough, the boy's eyes filled with tears and his little lower lip started trembling, and Din was at a loss as to what to do. He sighed and hung his head, grumbling to himself about woodland creatures and children seeming to have magnets that drew them to each other.

"Need some help?"

He looked up and saw Omera standing at the edge of the clearing, looking thoroughly amused.

Din stood up again, trying to be as dignified as possible when faced with a child and an irritatingly cute little forest critter, but all hope of maintaining his poise was dashed by him banging his helmeted head on the undercarriage of the ship. He saw stars for a few moments, but at least he didn't fall over.

He sighed, looking down at the kid, who was still clutching the prickly creature he had found and shook his head. "If you can figure out how to break his heart without irreparable psychological damage, go right ahead."

She knelt down in front of little Tielo Djarin, and glanced up at him. "You've noticed that Winta doesn't have a pet?"

He hrmphed—outdone again!—and went back to work on the stubborn bolt, cursing angrily in Mando'a when it still refused to budge.

"Apply some oil to it," she called gently, and she began talking quietly with the kid, her voice like aloe on a burn. He glanced back at her and saw that the prickly creature was making tracks for the woods and the boy was showing Omera his prized collection of weird-looking little shells the village children had dredged out of the paddys.

"Distraction, Din. You have to learn how to distract him," she said before returning to studying the kid's shells and exclaiming over them.

He grouched again and retrieved some oil from his tool box and sure enough, the stubborn bolt came out, albeit broken in two. He sighed and looked through the box again for a replacement. Omera settled down on the ground with the kid and played with him, and it did not escape him that this was like a normal domestic scene—the husband trying to fix something (with whatever applicable degree of mechanical competence he had) and the wife tending to the kid with considerable skill. Of course, Omera wasn't his wife, and she was good for far more than just tending to kids. For God's sake, she was an even better shot than him.

He finally found the right bolt and got to work getting it in and positioned right before applying the nut, absently growling under his breath.

"You're muttering to yourself."

"I am?" he asked, looking back at her.

"Yes. Something wrong?"

He finally got the bolt to connect right and resolutely tightened it. "Just… er… "

"Restless."

"I wouldn't say that," he said, still unable to look at her. It wasn't restlessness. It was frustration, and not over his ineptitude as a father. It was because he wanted her. Wanting and having, however, are two different things, and he was sure she was too smart to take on someone like him. A bounty hunter with a less-than-sterling reputation, wanted by the remnant of the Empire, with a kid whose very existence put everyone around him in constant danger. If he brought anyone else into his circle… his clan… they would be in danger, too. That didn't tamp down the longing, though. Just being near her, or hearing her voice, made his temperature rise.

"So what is it?"

He turned around and almost collided with her. Her hand rested on his mudhorn signet, and he felt heat rise from somewhere down below. He swallowed.

"I know I asked you to stay once before," she said softly. "I hope one day I can ask you and you'll say yes."

"I would love to," he said, feeling desperate and lost. "You know I would. But… "

"Teilo."

"I made a promise."

"I know. Would you please take your helmet off, Din? We're alone here."

He drew in his breath. "You've done it already. Go ahead… do it again," he said, gently challenging her, wanting her to know for sure that he did trust her. Totally. With his very life, and with his heart, and he knew he was putty in her hands.

Omera placed her hands on either side of his helmet and gently lifted it off. Teilo waddled over and she handed it to him, and he rolled it over and climbed inside it, gurgling happily even when it tipped over. The boy pulled it down over himself and played hidey-ho, cackling gleefully, his laughter echoing inside the helmet.

Din's knees went weak when her fingers brushed his cheek, and he could only surrender.

Her mouth gently brushed his, making every nerve ending in his body come alive, and his arm slipped slowly around her waist as their kiss deepened, him initially shy and unsure of himself, and she encouraged him to be bold, teasing him and making him hot all over. He pulled back, startled and aroused by her forwardness, and he drew in his breath, struggling desperately to maintain some degree of control.

"You're… you're seducing me."

"Is it working?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Good."

She slipped her arms around his neck and he met her halfway, needing her the way he needed water and food to stay alive. He was too shy, though, to touch the parts of her body that he wanted to touch, and she seemed understanding of his reticence. When she touched his hair, though, he pulled her closer, and when her tongue began teasing him, it took every last vestige of his self-control to keep from carrying her into the Razor Crest and letting her have her way with him. She felt so good, so right in his arms. She was it for him—the first and last woman he would ever kiss. He could only hope that one day, he would lie down with her and that he wouldn't scare her half to death or hurt her.

"We… we have to stop," he said breathlessly before kissing her again, almost desperately. "We have to, Omera."

She drew in her breath, and he prayed he hadn't hurt her. It took him several moments to regain his composure, and the kid dropped his helmet on his foot, making him yelp in pain. Omera started giggling, and he tried to glare at her, but that was impossible when she was so beautiful and he loved her so much it hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, giving the helmet a gentle kick away, the kid pursuing it eagerly. "It's not that I don't want… "

"I certainly do."

"… to… to… you do?"

"I would," she said softly. "Not in front of him, obviously, but… yes, I would. So long as it's done properly."

"Omera, I haven't ever… "

"I know. And I know you'll be wonderful."

"You… what… I… " He swallowed, bewildered and elated and scared out of his mind. "You don't think it's weird or… I don't know… not normal that I'm… ?"

"Please," she said, rolling her eyes. "Since when has that been something to be ashamed of? And why be ashamed? I wasn't ashamed on my wedding night. There is nothing shameful or remotely abnormal in controlling your own body, is there?"

"Was your husband… ?"

"I never asked. And he's dead, Din, and he was so unselfish that I know he would want me to be happy, and you… you big soft-hearted or'dinii…make me happy."

"I make you… you really are crazy, then—you're trying to learn Mando'a?"

She nodded, smiling.

"Omera, I'm the worst bet you could ever make."

"I have no doubts, and I'm quite good at gambling." She smiled fondly at him and bent down to pick up the kid. "I'll take him back and feed him his supper. You might want to cover up that mark on your neck before you come back."

"What mark… ?" he asked, confused. "I… " He felt his neck and jerked a bit, startled. "Oh."

"As we say around here, you shouldn't make love by the garden gate—love is blind, but the neighbors ain't. Discretion is always best. And don't forget your helmet." She smiled at him and walked away, with him watching the gentle sway of her hips. He had never seen any view that could ever compare to her.

He stood there a long time, willing himself to calm down. She had actually made it quite clear that she wanted him, and that thrilled and confused him. Before, he could blame his concussion on why his head was spinning, but there was no excuse now. He was a goner.

Quickly, he put the helmet back on and went into the Razor Crest and up to the cockpit. He started checking the ship's engines, making sure everything was in good shape and ready for flight. He still had to go, he still had to search for the kid's species or the remaining Jedi out there, but one way to ensure his survival and return Sorgan was that his ship was in the best shape possible.

He was checking the ship's armory and blasters when he saw the 'incoming call' button flashing on the panel. Sighing wearily, he punched it and sure enough, Greef Karga's image came up, twitching a little. "Mando! I see you're up and fully operational. I've been hailing you for the past week!"

"Yeah. Been kinda busy."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm okay."

"Where are you?"

"Somewhere."

"Right. Okay. Listen… I have some news for you."

"Oh?"

"Moff Gideon left just hours after you did, and he was apparently not in a good mood. He had every remaining stormtrooper and the last two deathtroopers executed for treason, just because they didn't stop you. He was particularly pissed with the two stormtroopers who killed your friend Kuiil and took the kid—had one of them shot dead where he lay—apparently, IG-11 beat the sh—er, stuffing out of him, and then he cut off the broken wrist of the other nitwit and had him blasted to bits. We all had to hide out in the sewers—apparently he wasn't keen on heading down there. He's a bit of a neat-freak, I think, and there's too many blind corners, and that Armorer of yours is some kind of a hard-knocking fighter. She told me to say that she has left, and took all the remaining beskar with her. I hope she'll contact you somehow some day with her whereabouts… "

"I was hoping he hadn't survived the crash," Din said ruefully. "Should have stuck on a few more chargers."

Karga nodded. "I really wish the son of a bitch had died, too, but he's gone at least. According to the Jawas, he had a rather… interesting weapon with him."

Din shrugged. "What? A pocket DeathStar?"

"Almost as bad. The Jawas claimed it was a sword… a black sword with light all around it, like one of those lightsaber things you hear about sometimes. It cut right through the TIE-Fighter like a hot knife through butter."

The Mandalorian stared at the crackling image of his former employer, his heartrate rising. The Darksabre? With Moff Gideon? How the hell could he have obtained it? Din had only heard brief mention of it, and only in passing. Last time anyone had said anyting about it, it had been lost in the Great Purge, but he had figured it was just hidden somewhere safe. Well, then... that's how the bastard got it then. When you kill all your enemies, of course you steal all their weapons and resources.

Now he understood why Cara hated the Imps so much. He was starting to hate the bastards a lot, too, particularly now that Gideon and his aim-challenged goons were a threat to his kid.

"So what's your plan?"

Din thought about it for a moment, running things through his mind. There was no way he could stay on Sorgan so long as Moff Gideon lived—he would lay waste to this place without a second thought, just to get the kid.

He was going to have to kill him. Simple as that. The man was a threat to his family. Nobody messed with his family.

"Where's Cara?" he asked sharply.

"I haven't seen her lately, but she's still around. She's… pissed, to say the least."

"Angry or just drunk?"

Karga laughed. "Eh… take your pick. How's that little asset of yours?"

Din refused to answer. "Sure you're not being listened to?"

"Gideon's gone from Nevarro, Mando. We're still just trying to rebuild and repair all the damage he and his flunkies did."

That didn't help. So far as the safety of his family was concerned, Din didn't trust anyone, except possibly Cara and any other Mandalorian he could track down. He knew Omera would fight to defend the kid, but he wasn't willing to draw her into the fray, even if she insisted on it. He wasn't totally sure about Greef Karga, but he was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt for now. "Have Cara contact me. We're going to need some more muscle to deal with Moff Gideon."

"How would you go about picking out the right kind?" Karga asked, looking confused.

"I dunno. Find some big bruiser, roll him over, thump his belly and see if he's ripe." Din cut off the line and sat back in his chair.

He had to leave. He had no choice.


or'dinii = fool