Part 2: The Jedi
"The Jedi are long gone," said Doc, throwing down a card with the faded outline of a Twi'lek on it. She and the Mandalorian sat across from one another, each trying to outwit the other. "I doubt we'll be able to find anyone that still calls themself one."
"You aren't a Jedi?" he asked, throwing down a Gungan card. Doc peeked over her cards to look at him, eyes catching the top of his deck. He pulled them away. "Stop cheating."
Doc huffed. "No, I was never a Jedi. My mother was. And so was my father. But my mother gave up that life before I was even born and I don't even think my biological father is still alive. Ha! Torgrutan! I win."
The Mandalorian tossed her the ten credits and she stashed them in her pocket. They had been adrift for a few hours, still mulling over their next move.
"Think of it like the Mandalorian Creed," said Doc, shuffling the cards for another round. "It wasn't one race – it was a collective, an ideal. Not to be confused with sorcerers, though I know that's a common misconception. They were just followers and practitioners of the Force."
"The Force?"
"Right," she said, dealing out the cards. She waved her hands dramatically in the air. "You know – the Force. The thing that binds us all together. The push and pull of all cosmic energy or something. Some people – like the Jedi and Sith – believe there to be a light and a dark side."
"And you?" asked the Mandalorian. "What do you believe?"
"I personally find it difficult to believe the universe is inherently good or bad. I think it just... is. All we can do is try and make the best of our time in it," said Doc. She paused for a moment, flipping the corner of a card with her fingertip. "I'd like to think no one is born good or born bad. I've seen good people do bad things. I've seen bad people do good things. I don't put much faith into the light and dark side rhetoric my teachers tried to instill in me. It's too simple for my liking."
"These Jedi..." he said. "Where can we find them?"
Doc glanced up at him and set down her cards. "You're kidding, right? Did you not hear a word I just said? The Jedi are gone. The Order was toppled with the rise of the Empire. We'd have better luck finding another Mandalorian clan."
"He deserves to be with his people," said the Mandalorian. "We have to at least try to find them."
"The Jedi aren't a people anymore! By that logic, we should've just given him over to the lady with the black eyes on Nevarro!"
"Surely there are others like him – like you – out there in the universe. Maybe they've banded together."
"Mando," she seethed, trying not to lose her calm. "It would be better for him if we found people of his actual species, not going on some blind galavant around the galaxy in search of something that might not even exist. He's only fifty – surely he has parents somewhere."
"These Force people would be able to train him," said the Mandalorian. "You could train him."
"No," said Doc, standing up and wiggling her finger. "No, no, no. Do not mistake a moment of life and death for some kind of spiritual awakening. I'm not a Jedi and I'm sure as hell not a Jedi master. He needs someone proper. Like the teacher I used to have."
"Well, where is she?"
"Probably dead," said Doc, grabbing up the piles of cards left on the table. She hit the clasp and the table collapsed back into the wall. "Either way, we wouldn't be able to find her. I haven't talked to that woman in... Gosh, I don't know. A decade? Maybe longer?"
"Then what do you propose we do?" asked the Mandalorian, sounding more annoyed than usual. "If there's no more Jedi, then what, we're just long-term parents of the kid?"
"I didn't say that," said Doc, messing around with a control panel on the side of the ship. "I think we have kind of two options here. We can either find his species or we can find more Mandalorians. Either one would give him a good life. The Mandalorians would probably be easier to find."
"Agreed," he said. "We should start tracing contacts. See who's heard anything about Mandalorian movements."
"Got anywhere we could start?"
"I know a guy," he said, heading up to the cockpit. She followed in close pursuit, grabbing a ration pack from the shelf as she climbed up.
"Why do I have the feeling this is going to end up in a fight?" she asked, adding some water to her canteen. The soup slowly hydrated from its powder form. Doc relished in the thought of getting an actual warm meal somewhere. "And we'll need to stop at a marketplace soon. Almost out of ration packs."
"Don't worry. Where we're going there'll be plenty of food," he said, typing in coordinates. Doc looked at what he had punched in and her jaw nearly fell open.
"The Core System?" she gaped. "Are you crazy? They take one look at this thing and they'll shoot it down before it even makes it to the Inner Rim."
"The guy I know of is on Atrisia. Besides, don't you have New Republic clearance?"
"Yeah, but I still don't see why we can't get the information we need in the Outer Rim."
"I don't want to go to the Core System," said the Mandalorian. "But the only guy who may have a lead is on Atrisia. If you have better ideas, I'm all ears."
Doc crossed her arms over her chest. She didn't have any more ideas. She hardly knew anyone in the Outer Rim, let alone someone who could lead them to a group of Mandalorians.
"Fine," she huffed, sitting back in her seat. "How are we gonna pay for this little endeavor, anyway? Fuel for something that far isn't cheap, and it's not like people are putting out bounties like you're used to in the Core Systems. These are rich people we're talking about - they only go through the official hitman channels."
"The contact likes to spend his time in a casino," he explained. "A lot of time."
Doc perked up. "A casino, eh? Trying to swindle some pompous assholes out of some of their credits?"
He tilted his helmet toward her. "I thought you might enjoy that."
"Mando, you know me so well," she touched her hand over her heart. "They'll pay up better than you can, anyway. Oh, one more thing. We're going to need to change if we're heading to Atrisia. Well, you will probably be fine, but I'll need to change. No need to turn more heads than you already will."
"Can't say I'm up to date with the latest fashion," he quipped. Doc smirked.
"Don't worry, I've got that covered."
"It's going to be how many credits?" seethed the Mandalorian. They were at a shop just outside the capital city of Taran on the planet Atrisia. Highrises surrounded the small boutique on every side. Citizens dressed in only the latest of fashions strolled by the shop windows as a shopping droid helped Doc pick out an outfit for tonight's affair.
"Relax," said Doc. "I'll make back four times as much tonight. Poor bastards won't even know what hit them."
The Mandalorian begrudgingly threw down the credits onto the counter. Doc took her clothes into the back dressing room and started to change. Everything about Atrisian fashion was so revealing. She had remembered as much when she had come here for a small excursion while she had been at school. It wouldn't surprise her if one day the Atrisians just walked around the streets in nothing but the nude, citing it as the latest fashion.
Even being naked would cost a small fortune in this place. The wheels of capitalism in the Core System never stopped turning, even when the war was over.
She had to have the droid help her with the tying clasps in the back. It laced up and down more intricately than she had the mental energy to figure out. It was a simple enough black gown with a long black slit down the front and back. The fabric fell freely over her figure and exposed the long sleeve of tattoos she had on her left arm. The droid had been merciful enough to offer the makeup as an addition to the cost of the dress, mercy not often found in these parts. Perhaps it was the menacing glare of the Mandalorian that made the final push, but it had offered it nonetheless.
Doc wasn't even sure when the last time she had worn makeup was. It must have been while she was still at the Academy. She had so little practice she had to ask the droid to assist her. And, as expected, it did a much better job than she would have been capable of. Even with the precision of a surgeon, she didn't leave her appearance up to chance. She pulled on the black heels she had purchased and pulled open the door to the fitting room.
She took one look at the Mandalorian before shaking her head. He couldn't stop staring at her, either.
"That won't do," she said, looking at his torn cape. "It won't fly with them."
"What?" He cleared his throat. "Oh, right."
"Got anything we can replace that cape with?" she asked the clerk. The droid examined his cape for a moment before whirring into the back room. It returned a few moments later with a heavy cape. Doc took it from the droid and draped it around the Mandalorian's neck, clicking it into place under the Beskar armor.
"There," she said. "Now we look like we belong."
"You think the kid's going to be alright on the ship?" he asked as they left the shop and emptied onto the streets. Doc called for a speeder taxi with a loud whistle.
"Nala's looking after him," she said. "He's not going anywhere."
"What's our cover, then?"
"Cover?" asked Doc as a bright silver speeder hovered down to a stop in front of them. The Mandalorian helped her up the step, careful to avoid stepping on her dress. "There is no cover. I'm Dr. Allara Martano. I'm here to enjoy some leisure time after work on the frontlines. You're my hired bodyguard."
"Why would a doctor need a bodyguard?" he asked, trying to poke holes in her story. She wouldn't budge.
"I have a terrible gambling problem," she retorted quickly. "Got in with the wrong crowds. Rumor has it I owe money to the Hutts. So, I hired a Mandalorian to protect my... assets. What better bodyguard could a girl need?"
"Assets?" he reiterated, unamused.
She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, a smirk crossing her chin. "You heard me."
The city lights whizzed past them, casting long shadows upon their faces. It was a nice change of pace, Doc decided, wearing fancy clothing and having someone else drive them around. She knew it was all still work, but she couldn't help but feel a tinge of victory in the pit of her stomach as onlookers watched the Mandalorian help her out of the speeder at the foot of the Riker Casino like some kind of trophy.
She looped her arm into the Mandalorian's and let him guide her up the steps as her free hand navigated the excess fabric that threatened to trip her at any moment. The casino was as grand a building as one could be. Large marble stairs led up to a coliseum-like entrance with floods of people heading inside for the late-night activities. She had heard stories of Riker Casino. It was known as the Casino of Tears for the losses of people who were unfortunate enough to fall into the House's trap. Part of the thrill was knowing when to cut your losses.
A dark blue carpet was rolled out at the top of the stairs, welcoming in participants. Doc kept a steady hand on the Mandalorian, eyes scanning the room for anyone who had matched the description he had given her.
"See your contact anywhere?" she whispered into a glass she had taken from a passing server.
"Not yet. Keep your eyes open."
"Back wall," he said. Doc let her eyes wander over to the back wall where the sabacc tables were. At the first table was a man dressed in all white playing a game with a green Twi'lek. Doc and the Mandalorian made their way over to the back of the room and joined the crowd who had gathered to watch the game. Hushed murmurs crossed the crowd as the Twi'lek threw down his cards in defeat.
"Give me your credits," she whispered to the Mandalorian. "Whatever you've got on you."
"Don't lose," he warned, palming her a sack of credits. Doc knew this was all they had left. As new players gathered around the table, Doc slide over next to the contact and turned on the charm.
"Got room for one more?" she batted her eyes as she took the velvet seat beside him. She leaned an elbow on the table and gave him her full attention.
"As it happens, my friend here just tapped out," he said. Other players began to fill out the table, throwing down their bids. "Got something you can match them with?"
Doc threw in the sack of credits and ran her hand up the man's thigh.
"I'm not very good," she said longingly, looking out at the other players. "Think you could give me some tips?"
"Darling, you can have whatever you want," he said. "Do you have a name?"
"Allara," she said, picking up the cards the dealer had set down for her. "I just pulled into town from Naboo."
"Then the rumors are true," he said. "The women from Naboo are the most lovely women in all the galaxy."
He was young. Not much older than Doc herself. His dark head of hair and mustache framed his face nicely as his eyes scanned the table.
"I don't think I caught your name," said Doc, already analyzing her cards. Keeping conversation while she was trying to think was exhausting.
"Val Rendinn," he said smoothly, eyes not meeting hers. He kept them glued to the cards laying down on the blue table. "And your friend who is looming over your shoulder?"
Doc looked back at the Mandalorian with a light smile on her lips. "My... companion."
"Companion?"
"Hired, I'm afraid," she said. "Can never be too careful."
The dealer - Val Rendinn himself - dealt another round of cards to the players. They all looked at their hands, some sighing in disbelief.
"You'll want to add up your card totals," explained Val to Doc. She already had but feigned as though she agreed. One of the players dropped out before the game even completely started. All of the players drew a new card for the first round or chose to stand aside from Doc, who had the Idiot in her hand. She placed it down in the interference field. It was her gambit - her wager. If she was going to win, she would win in style.
The players each called their hand values out. Another player bombed out of the first round, having exceeded a face value of over 24.
"Darling, you'll want to start picking up cards here," said Val, leaning in close. Doc tucked her remaining card down onto the table. "You might get left behind."
"I'm not too worried about it," she said. Before their eyes, the value of their face cards shifted appearance. A sabacc shift. She watched the faces of her opponents. Some of them had tells - the Mon Calamari who scratched the back of their hands. The woman next to her who blinked rapidly. Doc's own cards were fairly crap this round, but she hoped she would be able to make up the difference.
The rounds continued on. The players strategically stashed their cards into the interference field to protect them from sabacc shifts. Doc could feel the Mandalorian's discomfort behind her as the shift dealt her another dead hand. The final round was fast approaching as players slowly left the game. In the end, it was just Val and Doc.
"I'm impressed," said Val. "You've made it this far. And you say you're not a good player?"
"Just lucky is all," she smirked. The cards switched one final time, revealing a face card with a three on it. "Dumb lucky."
"Well, my dear," said Val. "I'm afraid your luck has run out." Val laid down his cards. The crowd cheered as his hand revealed a Perfect Sabacc - a hand that equaled 23 on the face value. He started collecting his winning pot when Doc stopped him with her hand.
"That's a very impressive hand, Mr. Rendinn," she said. She laid down her cards and watched the joy leech from his eyes. It was the Idiot play - a play so rare he could have never assumed it would happen. "But not impressive enough."
She grinned and shuffled the winnings over to her side. The House droid came over to verify the game before scooping up the credits into a sack for her. Doc handed the hefty sack back to the Mandalorian.
"Let me know if you want another game sometime," she said with a smirk back to Val. The crowd parted for her as they began to take their leave.
"Don't you think you're forgetting something?" asked the Mandalorian as he hurried up behind her.
"Give it a second," she said.
"Hey, wait!"
"See?" she muttered back. Doc turned to face Val who had chased after them. "Can I help you, Mr. Rendinn?"
"Join me for a drink," he said, extending his hand. Doc raised an eyebrow.
"Only if my friend here can come along," she said.
She could see his gaze falter between the two of them. "Don't you think three's company?"
"Wherever I go, he goes," she said flatly. "Besides, he enjoys a drink as much as I do."
"Very well," said Val, offering his arm out to Doc. She took it graciously and the Mandalorian fell into step behind them. Val looked up and down the arm that he was gripping onto as he led them up the stairs and into a private room. "You have quite the set of tattoos here."
"You should see the rest of them," she said with big doe eyes. The Mandalorian closed the door shut behind them, pressing the lock on the door and throwing the money bag down beside it.
"Drinks, anyone?" asked Val.
"Please." Doc turned around to look at the Mandalorian. He gave her a knowing nod. Doc slipped off her heels and tiptoed over to Val. Before he even had the thought to register her presence, she hit him over the head with the back of her shoe, sending him spiraling to the ground. The drinks shattered on the floor, sending glass and ale all around. Val tried to squirm away, but the Mandalorian pulled him up and slammed him against the wall.
"Tell us where the Mandalorian convert is," he ordered. Val squirmed under his grip, trying to break free.
"I-I don't know!" He cried. "Please. I can pay you!"
"Darling," said Doc, nodding to the bag by the door. "You already have."
"Double! Please! Just let me go!"
"Tell us what we want to know," said the Mandalorian, pulling his blaster up to Val's back.
"F-fine! There's a guy - Gor Koresh. He's on the planet Serenno. He likes to run his underground fight clubs out of it. The local guys like the business."
"Wasn't so hard, was it?" Asked Doc. She rested a hand on the Mandalorian's shoulder. "What should we do with him?"
"P-Please don't kill me." Val was sobbing now, streaks of tears staining his face.
"Shush," said Doc. She looked back at the Mandalorian.
"He's not even worth the kill," he said, putting his blaster away. "Let's just tie him up and leave him for housekeeping."
Doc smirked. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and gagged him as the Mandalorian tied him to the bed post. She crossed her arms in front of Val and pitched a brow.
"It wouldn't have really worked out between us," she said. "Not really my type."
The Mandalorian reached over and picked up the sack of credits from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder.
"Shall we?" He asked, offering his elbow.
"We shall," said Doc, graciously taking it and letting him lead her out the door. The casino was jam packed of people now. They walked along the upper balcony so to avoid run-ins on the main floor. They weren't going to push their luck even further.
They made their way into the cool night air, taking the first taxi they saw back to the area near the Razor Crest. They said goodbye to the city as they ducked into the hangar where the Crest was kept.
"You know, that wasn't the worst night I've ever had," she said as they made their way up the landing ramp. She threw her heels in the corner, startling a sleeping Nala. Doc came over and pet her ears before checking in on the little one. He was heavily asleep in the hammock they had made for him in the sleeping compartment. They dumped the credits into a chest near the front of the hold, the only place they could think of where they wouldn't be tripping over them.
Doc started do undo the knots that kept the dress snug to her body in the back, but when one caught and formed its own tight knot, she sighed.
"Hey, Mando," she said, coming up into the cockpit where he had begun takeoff procedures. They wanted to get to the Outer Rim as soon as possible. "Can you help me?"
He grumbled, mumbling something about cutting her out next time. She turned so her back was facing him as he fumbled around with the ties from the pilot seat. A few moments of frustration later had him tearing off his gloves to get a better grip with his nails. His hands were warm and would occasionally gently brush against her exposed back.
"Thanks," she mumbled when he freed the last string holding the dress together. She kept the dress against her chest with one hand while the other helped her down the ladder.
"Allara," said the Mandalorian, just as her head was about to disappear under the hatch. She glanced up at him.
"You..." he cleared his throat. "You look nice."
Her eyes cast downward and a small blush crept up her face. "Thank you," she said before dropping down into the cargo hood.