Spoils of War

Episode IV: Two Rules

Toth
Wild Space

In the darkness of night, the flaming freighter bombed down at the flat planet surface, pulling up at the last moment to achieve a crashlanding that came to a skidding, smoking stop about fifty meters from a settlement of tents lit only by small fires. Locals who were awake glanced at the calamity with little interest or concern. Crashes onto the barren rocky plains were common here.

Coughing and squeezing her eyes shut against smoke as the fire extinguishing system finally kicked in, Tala dizzily stumbled down the freighter's still-lowering walkway. Her painted-green armor was on, and the blaster she'd taken from the yacht earlier was at her side—momentarily forgotten as she doubled over and wheezed while clutching her nauseated stomach and moaning softly. Her head was spinning and her ears were popping from the headlong descent from outer space… that, and the psychotic piloting. Speaking of.

The Mandalorian appeared out of the smoke, waving his arm to clear it in annoyance. At the sight of him, Tala straightened with a disgruntled expression. "What was that?"

The Mandalorian was short on patience, pausing his surveillance of the damage to look at her. "What was what?"

Her hands flew around illustratively as her head kept spinning. "That… whizzing around in all directions like a crazed, half-blind twit-hopper!"

He stalked over. "It's called evasive maneuvering, and it's why we're alive right now." Tala opened her mouth to argue, then her only thought was uh oh. Her churning stomach abruptly took control, bending her body over as the motion sickness made her hurl. The Mandalorian's backward steps weren't quite fast enough to avoid misfortune. "Ugh. Really?" He shook his foot.

Grimacing, Tala spit hard beside herself. "Sorry," she mumbled, wiping at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

She heard the bounty hunter sigh as he turned and stalked off, eyeing the ship from a few different angles ending in a crouch as he peered up at the engine through a damaged, charred outer panel. "Anyway. Except for all the screaming, not too bad for your first time gunning."

Tala straightened, her face falling flat at both the underhanded compliment and the solid read. "Wait. How'd you know it was my first time?"

His head turned her way. She imagined that he must have a very deadpan look on his face. "The vomit on my boot, for one." He stood and offered no more input as he studied the damage to his ship in the very intense dogfight with space pirates. "This will slow us down. Repairs won't be possible here." He turned toward the settlement and so did Tala. It looked like there was no electricity in this place. The darkness was complete and heavy, the air chilly. No moons were in the sky above the flat gray plain. The settlement was lit only by campfires, making it hard to see much of anything. "All right, here's the plan. We go find our man, come back to the ship and get everything necessary out, then find a new ship and be on our way."

Tala was caught off guard and still feeling queasy. She hadn't imagined going along for the capture part of the Mandalorian's job, but she absolutely wasn't going to stay with a busted, smoke-filled ship in the darkness either. Off to their left beyond the huge campsite, she could vaguely make out dark shapes that looked like a cluster of starships resting quietly. How often did the Mandalorian switch ships? He seemed so casual about it. "… Shouldn't we get the new ship first?"

"No." His helm turned toward her slightly. "We'll be making a quick exit. I don't plan on buying." He looked at the tents and his tone changed. "All right. Two rules for the job: don't talk, and don't start shooting until I do." He started toward the encampment without anything further.

Disconcerted, Tala trotted after while whisper-shouting, "Wait, who am I shooting?"

His stride was that of someone who knew exactly where they were going. "Anyone who presents a problem." Behind him, his cape whipped in a gust of breeze.

They entered the huddled mass of tents, finding a wide, dusty thoroughfare. Not many fires were lit on the edges of the makeshift street, but where there were tent side fires, Tala could make out rough, slouching characters sizing herself and the Mandalorian up with watchful, foreboding eyes. And she'd thought Bracca felt scary. She held onto her firearm tightly, starting to feel intensely nervous. Without warning, her foot knocked into a small container and she caught herself from falling in an ungraceful couple of hops as she cursed softly. Heads turned in flickering, weak light. Beside her, the Mandalorian sounded irritated. "Play it cool, will you?"

He was acting like she did this every day. Tala irritably struggled to keep up with his brisk stride, straining her eyes into absolute darkness in the hope that she didn't walk into something else. "Sorry, I don't have a special helmet with night vision in it. Ouch!" Something made of clay knocked over and smashed and Tala tripped again, catching herself with all the grace of a galloping, drunken horse. The Mandalorian snatched her by the arm and pulled her away from the side of the street so that they walked more in the middle where there were fewer objects to collide with. Flustered, Tala doubled down trying to be outwardly poised.

The Mandalorian headed to a tent the size of which could be a small house. "In here." Without breaking stride, he threw the entryway open and marched right in like he owned the place. Tala followed with palms that were beginning to sweat. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Inside, oil lamps dimly lit a sparsely furnished interior where about ten male Nikto aliens of various shades were in some sort of discussion. Silence fell. The orange Nikto at the prominent wooden table sat with two others of similar stature. The others in the room, reptilian and massive in build, were lounging or standing in various other positions. Their appearance was rough and dirty, and all of them stiffened at the sight of the newcomers. Weapons were at all their sides, but no one reached for anything. Yet. The orange Nikto rose slowly, a thin scaly lip curling upwards in distaste. "Well, if it isn't the clanker who I warned never to show his face in this system ever again." He crossed thick arms. "Craz isn't here, Mandalorian."

The bounty hunter sauntered fearlessly to a stop in the middle of the room. "That's what you said last time I came looking for your brother's sorry ass, Delo."

The other two silent Niktos at the table got up silently and slunk back watchfully with the rest of the shady-looking characters, conveying that this wasn't their fight, but they might make it such if given reason.

Delo's eyes narrowed at the Mandalorian. "My brother paid his debt to society and deserves to be left the hell alone."

Tala stayed in place, edgily gripping her floor-aimed blaster and watching the silent Niktos closely with a look she hoped was appropriately aggressive. The Mandalorian approached Delo by a couple more steps, squaring off with him across the table. "By paying his debt to society, do you mean blowing up a ship of civilians, or murdering that heiress for her jewels?" He leaned over the table, placing gloved fingertips on the surface. "I'm taking him in. Tell me where he is and maybe I won't kill everyone in this room."

There was a hearty, slow laugh. Delo sat back down leisurely. "Big talk, Mandalorian. You and what army, this shrimpy little wingman?" His eyes slunk up and down Tala very rudely and thoroughly. "Shrimpy but pretty…"

Tala had learned quickly back on Bracca not to let someone have even one step above you. With a roomful of threatening males staring daggers at her, the words were coming out in her most scathing tone without a thought about the two rules. She raised the gun just slightly. "Don't talk about how I look."

The tension in the room grew thicker as the Mandalorian very, very slowly turned his head to look at Tala. She could practically see the exasperation radiating off him. There was a soft, charged sigh under the helmet, then the bounty hunter put Delo back under his gaze. "Don't talk about how she looks." Surprised but not unpleasantly, Tala raised her chin and watched Delo's features play unhappily as his dark eyes went back to the Mandalorian. "Last chance," the bounty hunter warned. "I can bring him in warm, or I can bring him in cold. And just so we're clear. I don't mind shooting you, either."

In her periphery, Tala caught the slightest movement. One of the Niktos in the back of the room was tensing for a quick draw, his hand creeping slowly closer to his blaster. Without hesitation, she turned sharply and blasted him… sending the entire room into chaos. Laserfire and sparks flew as four Niktos jumped the Mandalorian and Tala crammed herself behind a crate and fired with abandon at anyone who wasn't the bounty hunter. He made quick work of the guys on him, somehow shooting two others who weren't even touching him all while punching, kicking, and flipping multiple assailants all while lasers pinged harmlessly off his armor.

Through the ruckus, Tala glimpsed Delo hitting his jammed blaster a few times then abandoning it and fleeing out of the back of the tent. The Mandalorian was squared off with two last guys and Tala hesitated then pursued the runaway Nikto, not even sure what exactly to do except not let him get away. He ran down a dim thoroughfare and Tala sprinted after, sending a shower of sloppy laserfire at his lower half. She got lucky. He went down with a shout, clutching his leg and lower stomach. Another Nikto appeared out of nowhere straight ahead, screaming Delo's name in dismay then rapidly sending laserfire Tala's way. She cut to an abrupt stop and jumped sideways as blasts followed like a magnet and she would have surely been hit—but a large, heavy object vaulted over her then slammed down in front of her, abruptly refracting angry red lasers. It was the Mandalorian, simultaneously shielding her from laserfire while returning it. For an eternity of three or four seconds, there was nothing but screaming laser bolts pelting into the tent above Tala and dinging off the Mandalorian as he returned fire. Then all went silent. It was over.

Panting, Tala vaguely realized that the tent beside them was catching fire. On his stomach and a forearm, the Mandalorian let out a heavy breath and turned his head toward Tala. He sounded grumpy. "You shot first and you talked."

Tala looked at him oddly. The timing of his reprimand was kind of absurd. Her face pinched indignantly and she stood, shaken up by the adrenaline. She didn't say anything, because all she could think of was sarcastic insults and she still needed this guy to get her off this planet in one piece if possible. The Mandalorian got to his feet too, dusting himself off briefly before heading past a groaning Delo to the other Nikto who was motionless in a heap a few paces beyond. Tala noticed that they had made it to the other side of the tent cluster—more plains of darkness were steps away.

"My brother…" Delo said weakly, tears in his eyes as he reached out a shaking, scaled hand.

Tala drifted after the Mandalorian uncertainly, putting two and two together as she looked down at another orange Nikto. Only this one was dead. "Is… is that the guy?" she asked.

"It's the guy."

Delo sobbed, dragging himself ineffectively forward by mere centimeters. "You'll pay, Mandalorian!"

The Mandalorian contemplated the Nikto for a moment. "That's what they all say." He stooped, grunted, then in an impressive feat of strength managed to lift Craz's body and carry it over his shoulder like a sack. He headed toward the darkness beyond the tents. Delo's weak, weeping howls continued and Tala hesitated. The pitiful hurt in his gravelly voice made it hard to be indifferent.

"Come on," the Mandalorian urged from further on. Tala forced the torn feelings aside and followed.

They walked in dimness at the edge of the camp and doubled back to where they'd crashed. As they got closer to the wreckage, Tala realized there was another starship taking off from beside theirs. The Mandalorian made an aggravated sound. As they got closer, he beamed a light from his wrist over his dark, still smoking ship and Tala's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding," she breathed to no one specific as she took in strewn belongings and parts littering the ground near the walkway. "Did someone just strip and rob your ship?!"

The bounty hunter muttered something like, "Exactly why I charge extra for these damn Wild Space jobs." He watched the escaping ship disappear into the darkness above then shook his head and dropped the dead guy in a heap before he disappeared up the ramp into the ship, leaving Tala to follow.

Inside, it was hazy from dissipating smoke. Some running lights still worked, revealing that his armory had been broken into and cleaned out. The Mandalorian poked through the rummaged mess left behind and Tala began to do the same to see what might be salvageable. She found a medkit, some cans of rations, and a couple of his tunics then a canvas slingbag which she put all her findings into. Then, under the tossed-down drawer, she found the little journal. Stilled, Tala rose to her feet and cast a glance around the shambles. Nothing else useful was left, and from the gigantic holes in certain spots in the floor and walls, she could see that even the engines had been removed.

Nearby, the Mandalorian had also seemingly stopped finding anything useful. Tala went over and handed him his journal. "Here."

He hesitated before he took it. "Thank you." He reached into the pouch at his belt. "I found something too."

He handed over her medpen. Tala's eyes went wide as she took it. Yikes. Close call. "Thanks."

The Mandalorian sighed again, looking around his destroyed ship for a beat before he gave a final comment. "Looks like we're both starting over." He was already on his way out as Tala peered after him, feeling bad. She didn't think this was her fault, but she couldn't help but go there mentally.

A very silent moment later, they were on their way toward the makeshift shipyard nearby. Tala carried the bag of stuff and the Mandalorian hauled his dead bounty over his shoulder. Unfortunately as they got closer, sounds of conversation drifted and it became clear that the ships weren't just there for the taking. The Mandalorian motioned Tala over to some transport crates beside where the tents began and there they crouched in hiding. He investigated the darkness briefly. "I see six guys patrolling." He scanned around in a brief, rapid way that seemed to indicate he was about to act. "I'm gonna create a distraction, and you're gonna drag this guy onboard the ship."

Tala took one look at the huge Nikto and sputtered. "He's way too heavy for me to drag!"

She got a deadpan answer. "Give it your best shot."

"Why can't I do the distraction?" Tala hissed. He did another slow head turn that reminded her of in the tent with the Niktos. Tala huffed, folding. Whatever. "Okay fine. Which ship? I can barely see." He pointed a gloved finger over the top of the crates and Tala hunched close, squinting into the dark past where he was indicating. She could just make out a silhouette.

"That one," he said, and she jumped. She'd put her head closer to his than she realized. "The Razor Crest."

She gave him a look because she remembered reading about those ships once or twice. "Aren't those things old as dirt?"

There was a pause and she thought she heard the faintest little chuckle. "See you on board." He pushed himself up to stand and Tala had to bite her tongue not to demand more specifics on what the hell was happening next. He disappeared into the mass of tents and left her with a rapidly beating heart and a dead guy. Exhaling hard, Tala tried to pump herself up. She was strong, but the Nikto had to weigh close to two-hundred and fifty pounds. This was gonna take some grit that she didn't know if she possessed.

Before she had much more time to think, there was an explosion from further back in the tents and Tala went ramrod straight as her breath caught. That had to be the distraction. Something was on fire wherever the explosion had come from and the fire cast shadowy orange light over the scene, enabling her to peer past the crate and see the shipyard patrollers running into the camp. Okay. Showtime. With another hard exhale, Tala wet her lips and prepared to fail. She dug into a crouch, looped her arms under the Nikto's armpits, and began to drag him backward in a shuffle with gritted teeth. Glancing back in the waning light, she could see the burly Razor Crest looming at a distance that seemed miles away.

Very quickly she lost her breath but she kept going, grunting incoherently the entire time as a sweat broke and her muscles struggled to keep up with the immensely difficult task. Out of the darkness, the Mandalorian appeared in a run, firing a couple backward shots as he sprinted for her. It happened without discussion: they switched—she began providing cover fire and he snatched the Nikto up and ran up the distance to the ship then up the walkway, making it look almost easy. Shots from angry locals continued as Tala followed in a half-backward run just a few paces behind the Mandalorian.

With a huge plonk, the Mandalorian dumped his bounty on the hold floor and sprinted for the ladder to the cockpit as Tala slammed the seal-walkway button repeatedly, cursing it for being slow. A laser hit inches from her head and she ducked with a gasp. The ship was already firing repulsorlifts and hovering over the ground, then rocking side to side as it began to climb at breakneck speed.

Losing balance a few times but managing to stay on her feet, Tala lurched to the ladder and hauled herself up, barely able to hold on as the ship pitched this way and that. She made it into the cockpit and plastered herself into a passenger seat behind and to the side of the Mandalorian. In Wild Space, apparently the pirates never took the day off, because just seconds into altitude the ship was pelted by laserfire and Tala clutched onto the copilot seat handles, cursing everything. Somehow calm despite the absolute chaos, the Mandalorian punched several lit-up buttons, flipped some switches, accelerated, then pulled a lever and the ship punched into the safety of hyperspace.

Quiet returned and Tala went slack in the seat. Well, at least their exit was a whole lot less eventful than their entry had been. Rubbing her head as she marveled at all the close calls she'd had in the last day or two, she had to laugh weakly. "This is exhausting." Her muscles were sore and drained, and her nervous system felt throttled thanks to all the adventure. She couldn't imagine doing this all the time and had to hand it to her very intrepid companion. "You probably need to own your own personal bacta tank in this line of work."

He made a soft hm sound and it gave her the distinct impression he found something mildly amusing. "Not a bad idea."

As her heartbeat slowed and her heavy breathing started to return to baseline, Tala glanced around the cockpit. It was a modest size but didn't feel cramped, and the design was solid and smart. "Not bad," she decided, nodding approval. The Mandalorian nodded too and there was a thoughtful aspect to him as he studied the console more thoroughly, running a gloved hand over several details.

Letting out a hard breath as her jangled nerves continued to calm, Tala's mind went over the whirlwind Toth had just been. "Is the job always that… dangerous and crazy?"

He was fiddling with the transmitter and a small comm he'd produced from his utility belt. "Pretty much."

Eyeing him sidelong, Tala had to admit she found his attitude, demeanor, and general command impressive and fascinating. The curiosity about him nibbled at her. "… Does it not worry your family that you're in constant danger?" she ventured, hoping maybe he'd give away details with a leading question… but he didn't reply and Tala exhaled, guessing some things would remain mysteries. "Well. I still think I should have done the distraction," she joked momentarily, shaking her head at the absurdity of her dragging that heavy body across the planet surface like an absolute glit-biter.

His reply was surprising. "You did good." It wasn't clear if he meant in general or specifically. Nice of him to say, even if it was a total lie. "I'm just glad you stopped throwing things at my head." Surprised, Tala's eyebrows rose. Did he just make a joke? He finished whatever he was doing and folded his arms then leaned back in his seat. "I just notified the client that we're on the way. They're meeting me on Nevarro. We'll take this guy in and collect payment. Then you can be on your way, wherever that is."

Nodding automatically, Tala felt an unanticipated twinge. She could be 'on her way.' "Right," she murmured. "Yeah." She was going to be on her own again, just another little speck in the vast galaxy just trying to survive. Where would she go? What would she do? Questions for later, because right now the unknowns spiked her anxiety. Exhaling, Tala figured she better apologize for her oversight while she still could. "Hey look, I'm sorry for not following your rules—but in my defense, I did shoot the guy who was about to blast you in the back." She paused, realizing: "Which I guess, wouldn't really matter because of the armor." She eyed the earth-toned pieces more closely than before, noticing a few light scrapes and dings on the seemingly impenetrable protection. Eventually, her eyes wandered to the shining helmet. "Do you not ever take that thing off?"

"I don't show my face."

Tala's eyes crimped up. "… To strangers?"

His head swiveled toward her. "To anyone."

She couldn't hide her surprise. "Ah." How intriguing. And bizarre. "That's… different."

"It's my religion."

Tala's sense of skepticism was strong. If he was for real, this was one of the most peculiar things she'd ever heard of. "… So no one gets to see your face?"

"No one."

Tala found it hard to believe, while also seeing another chance to try and trick him into telling her more about himself. "… Not even your family?"

She heard the airiest little chuckle, a soft sound kind of like hm. "Nice try."

Tala shook her head, but there was a tiny smile on her face as she looked into her lap. He was consistent, she'd give him that. And she understood being guarded. Maybe she was being too presumptuous. One act of extreme kindness didn't mean they were friends. She decided to be quiet and give him what she was starting to realize he valued highly: peace and silence. She liked those things too. But in the quiet, all her thoughts could dwell on was him and all the things she hungered to know. Who he really was. Where he came from. How old he was. Why his religion barred faces. If he sounded the same with the helmet off. Her eyes dodged sidelong at him and she began to feel a little self-conscious at that last thought. Then the next one: had he never kissed anyone? How would he have if he'd never taken that thing off around someone else? But he clearly wasn't born with the helmet and armor on…

She put her eyes on the soft swirl of hyperspace. In whatever case: this fearless Mandalorian was one of the most fascinating persons she'd ever met. Her mind went back to the most surreal moment of her life when the man sitting beside her had decided to change her fate. But the question of why did he do that? drove her crazy as a thousand theories plagued her. How did he even know about the right of rescue? How had he known claiming it would work? Tala sourly thought of Leon Stryker, who would surely be taking out his anger on all his servants and fellow Vorians currently. She could hear his rants about how some Mandalorian had stolen his last daughter away in marriage. Bothered the more she thought about it, Tala huffed harshly, not realizing how loud and telling of a sound it was.

The Mandalorian turned fractionally. "If you're gonna puke again, at least do it in the fresher this time."

Tala hid her face fleetingly behind a hand, an embarrassed smile weakly stretching her lips in a grimacing cringe. "I'm done puking for now." She could have left it there. But she didn't. Carefully, she tiptoed toward the ultimate question she wanted an answer to. "I'm just… still reeling. Why'd you help me? Seriously." Maybe he didn't exactly comprehend what his decision had done for her, or how much it had changed. What an impact it left on her future. "Please. Or else this is gonna drive me crazy for the rest of my life, why a stranger who was paid to turn me in would save my life, then send me along my way without wanting anything back. It doesn't make sense."

She waited for his reply. And waited. And just when she thought he was going to leave her in silence again, he spoke. "I saw someone who needed help. And I helped."

It was such a simple answer. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"… And the money?"

He shook his head and planted his gaze straight ahead of himself. "Money comes and goes. I couldn't leave you there."

She felt a shiver. The silence felt loaded. "Thank you," she finally whispered, fully convinced that if she were superstitious, she would think he was some instrument of the gods. He didn't respond. The attention seemed to make him uncomfortable. Tala watched him studiously for a minute more, the ravenousness to know more refusing to leave her alone. "What's your name?" she asked again, then sent a sudden impish smirk his way as she folded her arms and sat back in her seat casually. It was absurdly ironic when she thought about it from this angle: "Come on. You won't tell your wife your name?"

Her smile faltered at the turn of his helmet because it felt distinctly intense. She'd only been joking, but… he didn't think she meant that, did he? Great. Now he was going to see her as some fanciful kid assigning stupid romantic notions about the way he rescued her. Any small chance of being in his graces was now gone. Being convinced that she was now being looked down on, his reply came as quite the surprise. "My name is Din." Her mouth opened faintly in surprise, but before she could respond or react, he cleared his throat, turning himself and the pilot's chair away from her. "I'm uh, gonna get some shut-eye."

That was his polite way of saying get out. "O-okay." Tala got up, feeling inordinately awkward. "I'll uh—I'll be in the hold. With the dead guy. If you need me." As she descended the ladder though, she had to smile. Din. His name was Din.

Later
Nevarro City, Nevarro

The Razor Crest settled down onto a dark rocky gray plain that sprawled before a city built into craggy volcanic landscape. Beyond the modest settlement, low mountain ranges marched, hazily obscured by a steady drift of steam.

The Mandalorian led the way down the ramp off the back of his new ship with the Nikto over his shoulder and Tala trailing after. Other ships were clustered over the plain, some coming and some going. Nearby, a burly alien in furs and a helmet impatiently waited with his freighter. "That's the client," the Mandalorian said. "Wait here."

Folding her arms, Tala did as told and studied Nevarro in the meantime. The sky was bright blue and the air clear and tolerable even though a touch sulphury. Domed dwellings dotted dark rocky slopes on either side of a towering stone arch entrance to the city, which looked humble enough but established and bustling. There wasn't a lot of color to the scene, but it had its own rough beauty somehow.

Just a few meters away, a beautiful dark-skinned woman maybe in her fifties stood at her VCX-100 light freighter with a panel off to access her engine. At her side there was a beige and orange R5 droid. Wearing a dusty taupe jumpsuit with a flight helmet slung back on her neck, she caught Tala's eye and gave a friendly little smile as she worked a rag between her hands. "Nice Razor Crest. Don't see those around much anymore."

Tala sent a neutral smile back and watched the woman return to poking around her starship's underbelly. Something hissed and snapped and the woman frowned and muttered, peering into the chaos with a very frustrated expression. After vacillating briefly, Tala drifted over. "Engine trouble?"

"Nothing but rough landings lately," the woman said with an unhappy sigh.
"Something important's loose. I think." The woman smacked one part against another part. "So many things can go wrong with this junk." Near her leg, the astromech's boxy head swiveled and it belched out a rude-sounding blip. The woman gave the droid a withering look. "Oh shove it, Five."

Tala frowned into the mess of wires and connectors then squinted, spotting milky blue buildup on contacts that should have been gleaming silver. She reached up and examined closer. They were barely holding together and would soon fall all the way apart. "I forget what these are called, but they do something with the landing sequence drive," she said. "They're really corroded. Do you have any sealant? It'll give you a little longer until you have to replace them."

The woman inspected the parts and nodded thoughtfully when she saw the buildup. "Huh. You a mechanic, kid?"

"Oh, gods no. I studied engine science and repair, uh—electively." Tala rubbed the back of her neck evasively. "But I never really got to apply what I learned."

The woman folded her arms, eyeing Tala with a smile that had a certain kind of fascinated interest. "Well look, the mechanic here on Nevarro is always needing a hand. You in the market for a job? Kizzo really needs more hands on deck. He's backlogged by weeks, which is why I'm stuck flying this deathtrap around for now."

Tala's ears perked even as her guard rose. "I do need a job, but… I'm nowhere near an actual mechanic." And she wasn't sure who this lady even was or if she was about to be tricked and robbed or something.

The woman's confidence remained. "Lemme introduce you. Even if you're just sweeping up the shop, it's something. Trust me—he needs all the help he can get."

Tala's first instinct was to distrust and refuse. She almost made an excuse and walked away. But. She considered instead, glancing at Nevarro City again. After Bracca, the Mandalorian, and Toth… she felt like she could face tough odds and come out on the other side. And anyway, in a tenuous situation like hers, she couldn't afford to be too particular. With that in mind, she resolved to keep her eyes peeled, her blaster close, her skepticism firing… and just see what happened when she said yes. She nodded and returned her attention to the seemingly kind stranger, suddenly excited even despite her strong, lingering apprehension. "You know, actually—yes. Okay. I'd love to meet him."

"Excellent." The woman wiped her hands on her rag, put it in her belt, and stuck her hand out. "Romy Bolt. Goods transport." She winked.

Tala put her hand out too and grasped. "Tala." A brief moment of terror seized her. "Uh." A last name. She needed a last name. Her first name was very common and didn't concern her, but whatever last name she used from now on needed to be made up. So she said the first name that popped into her mind: "Din. Tala Din." Echoing what Romy had done in giving her job description, Tala again said the first thing she thought of: "Newcomer." Kriff. Terrible choice for a last name and she should have already had a cover story and false name prepared. Tala kept her smile locked in place as she internally kicked herself. More lessons learned.

Romy chuckled. "Tala Din, newcomer. Nice to meet you. Gimme just a minute or two." She jerked a thumb at her ship and then walked down the length of it toward the ramp. Her R5 followed, making puttering sounds that sounded distinctly bad-tempered.

"Great." Tala switched her weight between her feet out of nervous habit before calling after, "Thanks!" Life was really changing fast. And maybe she should feel scared shitless to be on a new, unknown planet with nothing… but she didn't have nothing. She had a blaster, a person about to introduce her to a guy who could give her a job, and the very solid hope that no one was after her anymore. Looking at the tradeoff taking place a few ships down, Tala saw the Mandalorian heading back her way. The ship he'd been standing near taking off. Her spirits dipped as she realized: it was time to say goodbye.

With a squeezing heart, she slowly went the last few steps to meet him and he promptly handed something to her. It was an Imperial credit, and when Tala turned it over in confusion, she saw that the copper-colored metal bar was marked one-thousand. With bulging eyes, she looked at the Mandalorian like he'd grown horns. "That's your cut," he said.

While money would be incredible, Tala was already trying to give it back. "I can't accept this, you've already done enough."

He didn't move an inch. "Take it." He was firm enough that she knew there was no point arguing.

She sighed, gave up, and nodded, studying the credit while yet again overwhelmed by this near stranger's kind-heartedness. "Thank you. Seriously." She didn't use his name even though she could have. It somehow felt too personal to speak out loud. "For everything."

He nodded and turned away… then stopped and turned back. "Look, if you don't want to get found again by people like me, stick to planets without Imperial patrols. Or wear something to obscure the face. That's how I tracked you to Bracca. Imperial facial recognition database."

Tala's eyebrows rose and it took her a couple of seconds to respond. "Thank you," she said, yet again. Then she realized this meant he had a whole other set of impressive skills. She grinned questioningly. "You can slice, too?"

Her impressed tone must have amused him because again, she could make out the slightest lilt of amusement in his voice. "I can pay people who slice." He took a couple of backward steps, indicating that the conversation was ending. "Good luck out there."

Tala nodded, a sense of urgency intensifying as the interaction drew to a close. Reality felt wrong; him about to disappear just as suddenly as he'd shown up. But he turned on his heel after those backward steps and moved toward his ship. Her smile faded. She said nothing, watching the mysterious man in the armor become smaller against the gunmetal siding of his new prize ship. They looked good together, the two of them. Her eyes worked to memorize the visual so she could always remember the Mandalorian stranger named Din whose great compassion had given her a shot at true freedom.

With a bracing inhale, Tala looked over at Nevarro city, taking in the view with intensifying emotion. People who changed your life so profoundly, you simply wouldn't ever forget. They became part of who you were, echoes of their impact altering everything about the life they had a hand in saving. Now Tala had two patron saints she'd look to in dark times: Esha, and Din. Unable to help it, her eyes drifted to the armored figure again.

"Hey, newcomer! You ready?" Romy was waiting with a friendly smile. With another deep breath in, Tala smiled back tightly, nodded, then took her first steps toward whatever life had for her next… but not without one last, stolen glimpse of the man whose face she'd never see. He had paused and was looking back at her, his cape catching a slight breeze. Sending a tiny hopeful smile his way and thinking it was the last time she'd ever see him, Tala set off into the unknown with Romy.

Author's Note: Romy Bolt is played by Viola Davis :)