Recap: Yska and Mando cleared out the old crew's quarters. She felt like she was getting a better read on his body language. We delved into her past; sneaking information at the orphanage and using it to the benefit of others. She began using this skill to research Mando's species in secret, but...she was interrupted with the news that they'd finally reached Makeb.

Dedication: THANKS FOR OVER 14,000 HITS!

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The Mandalorian's Reward

By Noelle Scribe

Chapter Six

"My scanners indicate your crew has shrunk since last we met, Mandalorian." The cold tone was spoken in the Sy Bisti trade language; clipped, with a hint of smugness only aristocracy could wield. "You and your...companion...will be escorted by my men when you land. Geshivi'vos'trilu out." The static blue hologram winked out.

Razzen-va drummed his fingers on the console as he set the landing coordinates for the resort city of Talaos. The ship was only a few minutes out from breaching the atmosphere. He didn't like how the Chiss had stressed that word - companion.

Makeb was an oceanic planet rich in isotope-5, a unique mineral that warped electromagnetic and gravitational fields. The Avesta Mining Corporation had had a monopoly on the mineral for centuries, ever since the first settlers had crash landed. The once-small settlement had only grown more and more prosperous after trading their valuable mining resource. Now, the planet was a hot spot for tourists taking in the sights of Makeb's natural giant pillars - so high they breached the clouds and so big they housed cities. One could enjoy panoramic views at luxury resorts atop a pillar plateau.

Geshivi'vos'trilu - or Ivost for short - was a Chiss who wasn't used to hearing the word 'no.' With a background in smuggling and ties to the Hutt cartel, the Chiss agent had found himself amid the giant pillars of Makeb. For decades, he'd been attempting to carve out a foothold for the cartel. The Hutts were hoping to not only get their hands on the profitable isotope-5, but to weaponize it.

It was the reason the cartel hadn't taken too lightly to the runaway mole - an Avesta Mining Corporation spy - in their ranks. The very reason why Ivost had hired the bounty hunter in beskar. The very reason the Mandalorian was returning with a fresh slab of carbonite in his cargo bay now.

"Yska," the Mandalorian called from the cockpit. It only took her seconds to materialize in the doorway, her hands fidgeting with her too-long sleeves. Razzen-va's chest warmed.

"Yes, sir?"

"I…." He was momentarily stunned. Blue flashes jumped and danced in sparks from the nearing planet (from the isotope's electromagnetic disturbance in the planet's upper atmosphere). It cast the slight human in an ethereal glow. Yska could have been mistaken for a Pantoran goddess in that moment. Razzen-va was grateful his face was shielded, or surely his gaping mouth would have given him away. "I...would like you to dress in something a bit more upscale, yet still functional. You'll appear as a member of my crew."

"Yes, sir," she nodded, vanilla tresses catching the blue light with the movement.

"While we are planetside, do not speak unless spoken to. Be polite, but vague. Be aware. Know you are being observed at all times. Do you understand, Yska?"

A small slip of fear found its way into her eyes. He didn't know how else to prepare her. They were going into hostile territory. She wasn't a warrior like him, but she'd need to watch herself. She nodded quickly. "I'll try not to be an embarrassment."

A dart of cold shot through his chest. Before he could say anything to that, she slipped away to carry out his orders.

Yska chose something simple, if a bit utilitarian; a sharp gray dress with black leggings, polished black boots, and a white leather jacket. She brushed her hair and tied it into a bun, her makeup subtle, with silver earrings.

As she rummaged in the dresser for her accessories, a glint caught her eye. The cloth she'd used to bundle the dagger that had been gifted to her had come unwrapped. She glanced toward the doorway behind her. Thankfully, she had never felt the need to use it against her new…owner (though, that word somehow didn't seem fitting). But now…now they were going into unfamiliar, unsafe territory.

The bounty hunter's rules were reasonable - don't bring harm to self, others, or property. Yska had never done anything to earn his ire or test his conviction. If the Mandalorian caught her with the dagger, the consequences could be…severe.

But, if she was caught in a dangerous situation on Makeb without the dagger, the consequences could be fatal. She'd grown up near the streets. She had an idea the sorts of crowds a bounty hunter might have to navigate.

She'd take her chances and hope that the Mandalorian would be understanding (as he had been thus far). She'd rather be alive, consequences be damned.

Yska hid the dagger inside her boot. It was stiff alongside her ankle and made walking somewhat uncomfortable, but she'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

Yska turned to face the mirror and walked back and forth until she could manage a natural gait with the hidden dagger. She barely recognized her reflection. She could be anything; anyone from anywhere. Yska - an orphan from a backwater planet - found she quite liked the notion. Her appearance in the reflection didn't scream all the labels she wished to hide: orphan, inexperienced, slave.

She also liked the image she would cut standing next to her towering Mandalorian in his shiny silver beskar. She imagined they might look like quite a pair, walking down the ship's ramp with his quarry floating behind them...like she might even belong at his side. She swatted that notion away...hard.

They were greeted by two (obvious) henchmen dressed in white and silver livery. The two lackeys beckoned them onto a paved pathway amid pristine landscaping and gleaming buildings jutting into the clouds. Yska had never been to such a clean city before, filled with flamboyantly dressed residents who smiled so carefreely; ah, the mark of an easy life.

However, before she'd had a chance to look her fill, they were led into a side building, tall and chrome. The path changed to polished black marble and her low heels clicked in echoes off the metallic walls.

Down, down, down the path curved and the lights dimmed. They passed a neon entrance to a nightclub - the music and excited chattering spilling out into the hall - before they were led further underground. Into the bowels.

Finally, they came to a heavy entrance. Two more henchmen in white uniforms - bigger, with weapons - stood guard. They waved a wand-like device over the Mandalorian before asking him to check his blasters. He stood there silently for an uncomfortable length of time before reluctantly passing his weapons over.

Yska's heart jumped in her throat.

Blood thrummed through her ears as the guard waved the wand over her figure. The hidden dagger nearly burned a guilty hole in her boot. The wand beeped.

The Mandalorian's attention whipped toward Yska, lightning fast. Her ears flamed. She removed the dagger slowly and handed it to the guard with a shaky hand.

The Mandalorian stood stock still by her side - a simmering presence - for a heartbeat too long. It felt like a millennia. She refused to meet his helmeted gaze, but she could see the pace of his breathing had sped up.

The guards ushered them through the thick metal doors after entering a complex keycode. They were suddenly alone in a short, dim vestibule that might as well have been the length of a galaxy. Yska's stomach clenched.

"We'll talk about this when we are back on the ship." His low tone was clipped as if his jaw were clenched.

"Yessir." Yska swallowed, voice thin and meek. She kept her eyes trained on the floor. She knew she was naive to this world - she'd never imagined she'd be joining a bounty hunter on his missions - but she hadn't thought she would have been outed so soon.

The Mandalorian opened the next set of double doors and waved Yska through. His back was straight, fists clenched.

The room was dark and hazy, and Yska's nose immediately detected why. Death-stick smoke was heavy on the air. More black marble on the floors and walls. Colored neon lights illuminated black leather seating. A shielded fire-pit spat purple flames in the center of the room. Sensual, low-pitched club-step music filtered the scene.

Black uniformed guards melded into the shadows in the corners. Yska counted six.

A blue-skinned Chiss reclined at the far end, enthroned like a king. He was dressed in a crisp white suit, blue-black hair slicked back with some gray playing at the temples, a few lines etched around his mouth. His prominent feature was his long, thin, sharp nose. It made his face look predatory, like an earth hawk. Beautiful women rubbed his shoulders and lounged against his throne, which was situated upon a furry, six-limbed Chiilak-skinned rug.

"The hunter returns triumphant." The Chiss's voice was cultured, if a little gravelly. "There were no doubts to be had. Welcome, Mandalorian. And...who might this lovely, young thing be?" He tipped his chin toward Yska as he snuffed out his death-stick into an ashtray, his red eyes filling with heated interest.

"Yska. My associate."

"Your... associate?" The Chiss cocked his head, tone smug. "Were that all my associates such striking and lovely creatures." He uncrossed his legs and stood, swatting away the petting hands of the fawning women.

Yska's young eyes narrowed. The women - all different species - were each gorgeously polished and free of bruises, but the matching collars spoke volumes; Yska knew a slave when she saw one. Their eyes were dull and glazed over from spice; a small mercy, no doubt.

The Chiss approached Yska and the Mandalorian with the confident stride of a man who knows how to get what he wants. While the Chiss wasn't nearly as tall as the bounty hunter by her side (honestly, few species were), Yska still had to strain her neck to hold the Chiss's gaze. She'd grown accustomed to the cricked position with the Mandalorian, but the bounty hunter's towering presence never made her feel…cornered…as she did now.

Yska kept her face neutral even though her stomach fluttered with defiance. She had a bad feeling about this man. Everything in her told her to run. Any whisper of weakness in front of this man would be a liability for her Mandalorian.

The Chiss took her hand and placed a gentlemanly kiss on the back of it. He flashed a wide, pearly white smile that some would find charming. Yska found it sharp. Calculated. He had yet to let go of her hand. It took a strong will to resist snatching it back.

"Yska," his tone was low and sultry, "I hope the pleasure of making your acquaintance is mutual. I am Lord Geshivi'vos'trilu. You may call me Ivost." He looped her hand through his arm like an old fashioned suitor and gently guided her toward the seating area. "Before we get down to business, allow me to play host to your lovely associate, won't you, Mando?" He threw the question over his shoulder absently. "Such a refined young woman should taste only the finest things the galaxy has to offer." Ivost had already guided Yska onto a plush cushion beside himself, not bothering to wait for the Mandalorian's acquiescence.

The settee was beyond comfortable and plush. Yska felt like she was sitting upon a cloud. The leather upholstery was buttery soft, molding perfectly to her shape. The highest quality. She fought to stifle a satisfied sigh as she briefly sank into the cushions. The perceptive Chiss - crimson eyes watching Yska's face carefully - grinned. "If you like that, you'd marvel at my boudoir cushioned in only the finest silks, hand-spun by Miralukan nuns."

Yska's stomach clenched at the thought of being laid out on Ivost's bed. She sat up straighter, away from the plush comfort. She wasn't here for this. Thankfully, the Mandalorian joined them, sitting in an armchair next to the settee. His proximity calmed her stomach.

Ivost snapped his fingers. His slaves sashayed over with trays of crystal flutes along with platters of exotic sliced fruits and hors d'oeuvres. Then they faded into the background underneath colored lights, dancing erotically to the sultry electric music.

The sight made Yska's stomach churn. She snuck a peek at her Mandalorian owner. His body language was unreadable. Hopefully, he would never make Yska do things like this. As his slave, Yska had to accept that it was a possibility. She reminded herself that no matter how encouraging the Mandalorian was or how safe he might make her feel…she truly didn't know him.

"You simply must try these Dathomirian seed pods, my dear." Ivost offered a plate to Yska, eyes heavy with lust as he whispered, "They will make you feel hot in all the right places."

The Mandalorian put his hand out to intervene. Ivost only seemed to just realize the bounty hunter was there and that the cartel lord had crossed a line. Not that Ivost cared. It only seemed to make his blue smirk grow.

"We are not here for your food and drink, Lord Ivost," said the bounty hunter in his mechanical vocoder. Yska had never heard the Mandolorian's tone so cold and curt. "We are here to conclude our business and be on our way. I've other bounties to collect."

"What's the rush, Mando? Your bounties will still be there after you've given your associate the proper pampering she so deserves." Ivost's tone was fluid, lingering. He turned back to Yska. "My dear, as a connoisseur and purveyor of rare and delicate…personnel, your exotically graceful features are somehow exceedingly…familiar."

A splash of cold shot through her stomach. Yska steeled her voice against the nerves, confusion, and the rage. Of course this Chiss was a slaver; he was a cartel crime lord, what had she expected? "Thank you, my lord, but I assure you that I'm…quite average for my species. I've never been to Makeb."

Ivost searched her face openly for a long moment. Yska swallowed, the hairs on her neck standing on end. The Chiss hummed as if he found what he was looking for. "Humans are something of a novelty out here. I specialize in…catering to demand for said novelties. I never forget a face. I've seen the likes of yours before."

Dread filled her; froze her.

Again, the Mandalorian came to her rescue.

"Ivost, cut the theatrics." The Mandalorian shifted in his seat, his presence stretching, almost palpable. "I didn't fly all this way to listen to your bantha fodder. You've had your flirtations. Now, can we dispense with the business at hand?"

Ivost settled back into the cushions nonplussed, stretching an arm over the back of the couch and crossing his legs. He snapped his fingers and a slave (a shapely Mirialan) brought him a death-stick, holding a lighter in front of the Chiss lord as he started the cherry. Ivost drew a long drag and exhaled a smoke ring nonchalantly. The Mirialan remained at the back of the couch, rubbing the Chiss's shoulders.

Ivost smirked. "You know, I've been hearing…rumors…of a Mandalorian blowing through a backwater mud pit, buying out the brothel's prettiest little trick for an overly large sum of chits." He took another long draw of his death-stick, cheeks hollowed; confident his audience was captivated as he evaded the issue. Ivost held the smoke in his lungs as the tension wound tighter, enjoying everyone's bated breath. The energy in the room was still. No one dared take the Chiss's power-pause for an invitation to speak. He exhaled a double smoke ring with a cocky smile. "Word is, you didn't even blink at the price, is that right?"

Another slave, a Twi'lek, draped herself on the floor at his side. She held up an ashtray for his death-stick as she caressed his thigh. "People talk, Mando, even if you don't." His red eyes were welded to the Mandalorian's visor. He flicked the ash into the tray with even a glance.

"Besides," he continued, "no one would fault you for…seeking some comfort, you know, after what happened." He stroked the face of the scantily-clad Twi'lek leaning against his knee. The Mandalorian's right fist was clenched so hard that Yska could hear the leather of his glove creak.

Ivost turned heavy lidded eyes upon Yska. "Tell me, girl…have you ever seen him without the armor? Imagine the stories all those scars could tell. So much shrapnel and loss. So much…passion." He glanced at the warrior with a sly grin. He leaned forward, forearms balanced on his knees, undressing Yska with his arrogant gaze. "I'd like to taste a girl who can handle a Mandalorian."

Yska's breath froze in her lungs. Her stomach dropped out from under her. Those ruby eyes trapped her.

He spoke to the bounty hunter with his red gaze still glued to Yska. "Tell you what - you're a shrewd businessman. I'll pay you double whatever you paid for her."

Yska's heart clenched in her chest.

She didn't always understand her Mandalorian, but he was kind in his own way. Or at the very least, he was thoughtful. He provided for her needs. He reminded her that she could say No without fear. There was a feeling of safety with him, even if he did technically own her: even if he did promise rough things to come behind closed doors. She never felt like he would actually hurt her…not like others had.

But this man, this Chiss…this crime lord was not like the Mandalorian. This man had no code of honor. This man only thought to possess her - like the slaves hanging off of him - to treat her like some prized accessory. And when she displeased him….

"No."

Yska's head snapped toward the Mandalorian so quickly it hurt.

Ivost smirked and chuckled with a sneer. The expression pulled his fine lines in an unbecoming manner. "Fine. Triple. And for good measure, I'll throw in some firearms and spice."

"She's not for sale," the bounty hunter countered.

"Not even for one night? C'mon, fair's fair." His smirk never slipped. His tone never became unpleasant. Ivost was not to be deterred.

Yska shuddered. Her skin crawled as a pit opened in her falling stomach.

"Yska is not for sale at any price, Ivost." The Mandalorian's voice remained cool yet firm, dropping the honorific, brooking no argument. His body was coiled, vigilant. Yska could have cried with relief. "I've delivered the bounty. The carbonite is locked with a key code. It's yours for the fifty thousand Calamari flan that we agreed upon."

"Fine," Ivost sighed airily, but there was a stiffness in the way he held his death-stick. "All business and no play makes you a very dull boy, Mando."

Ivost shifted in his seat, re-crossing the opposite leg over the other. "I have another fob for you. Local. Dead or alive. You see, the information that little mole had," he nodded toward the floating carbonite, "almost cost us some very expensive friends on the Business Council. Turns out, he was smart. He hid a copy of his whistleblowing data should an unfortunate accident befall him. It's set to be delivered to the Avesta Mining family heads via ex-military courier tomorrow. This information could ruin all the progress the Hutt cartel has made on this planet. I'll pay five times your normal rate for your expediency."

The bounty hunter shook his head. "I don't take rush jobs." He stood, his stance broadened, his presence overtaking the room. "Transfer the flan, and I'll be on my way." Yska trembled - she did not envy Ivost or the blank glare the warrior had leveled on the Chiss.

"How about ten times your fee, then?" Ivost said, inhaling another puff. "It's an easy retrieval job, Mando. Easy money. The military couriers are far beneath your skill. Think of it as currying favor with a reputable client who will sing your praises in the right circles. You'll be drowning in so much elite work you'll never have to accept a bounty beneath your notice." Ivost raised a challenging eyebrow with a leer. "Of course, I would play a most gracious host to your lovely…associate."

"No."

The Mandalorian turned to leave, motioning for Yska to follow.

Ivost chuckled darkly.

The two were nearly to the double doors when the crimelord called out: "Not even for…the cure to Ardor Defection?"

The Mandalorian froze…and turned around.

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: I'm trying not to be so perfectionist/obsessive - good is still good enough. Plus, I'm pretty sure you might be chomping at the bit for this chapter and forgive a few typos/errors. I hope to be more consistent with updating my fanfiction as well as working on my original paranormal romance and fantasy content. Please subscribe for notifications if you like this fic.

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For the nerds and geeks like me - I used wookiepedia research to create Ivost. And I found information on the Avesta Mining Corp and Makeb as plot inspiration. And an article on the stability of Calamari flan over republic/imperial credits. Force bless Wookieepedia!

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~Noelle Scribe