Chapter Four: Campfire Conversations

Once the helmet was adequately removed and Shay could get a good look at the girl's face, he shakes his head and sighs.

The girl is younger than he was when he got into his first real firefight. He doesn't know whether this shows Mandalore has been slacking in their training process or the Imperials are broadening their recruitment scope.

Quickly being stripped of her weapon by Devar despite her intense objections, the Imperial glares at her two companions with thinly veiled mistrust.

No doubt she believes they will attempt to dispose of her now that her purpose has been fulfilled and the Mandalorian shares her concern on that matter. Not much is known about their other friend apart from her obvious criminal nature. Who's to say Devar might not put a blaster bolt in her head now they are relatively home-free.

Apart from her obvious youth, the girl looks hardy and worn-in by regulation. Thin brittles of blonde hair form a tightly packed spearline across her closely-shaved head and her blue eyes show a blunted exhaustion despite their piercing brightness. Little knicks from training have scarred over time into miniscule marks barely visible to all those who don't look closer.

Despite her minor injuries, the Mandalorian doesn't detect any of the twitchy eye movements or deadness of gaze which comes with real experience. If anything, she looks fresh from the academy.

"Didn't think they were promoting from the academies this young," Shay attempts to confirm his suspicions, earning him an intrigued glance from Devar as she listens in, now throwing away the Imperial's blaster after disabling it.

"I'm not from any academy. " the girl responds, brow furrowing and her posture tightening suspiciously.

"Listen young lady, no Stormtrooper which had been picked from the street stands as straight and proper as you. If we stuck some branches to ya, you'd be one of these trees," Devar interrupts, assumingly agreeing with Shay's assessment.

"Walk," Shay commands the Imperial, making sure she sees his hand hover menacingly over his holster.

Realising the need to move further into the swamp before reinforcements zoom past them, the Mandalorian urges his companions forwards with a simple nod of the head. Enough to get his point across, none of the two argue and the group begin plodding along through the murky and damp paths.

The swamp may provide some manner of cover for a time, but they need to come up with a solid plan if they are to escape Havordia with their heads attached. Something tells him this ordeal is far from over and there'll be a lot of blasting before they get out of this.

"Where's that ship of yours?" Shay leans over and whispers to Devar, recalling her talking about owning a space-faring vessel.

"Rather not talk about that big man," she replies. "Sort of a sore point at the moment."

"If you don't trust me with that kind of information, be honest," Shay shakes his head.

"Mandalorians may appreciate honesty, but Devaronians definitely do not," Devar replies with a devilish grin forming on her face.

They travel for a while, stopping and listening whenever the slightest ripple of a sound reaches their ears but eventually they reach a point where the Mandalorian believes they can gather some information together and come up with a solid plan. Shay leaves the two together for a short time to gather some small pieces of wood to burn and by the time he comes back, both have already closed their eyes and gone to sleep.

Being stuck with amateurs, he resigns himself to the first watch without complaint, leaning against a tree a few steps away from the two girls and scanning the horizon with his helm.

It picks up some minor lifeforms - insects, reptilians and the like - however he knows how quickly that can change. Stormtroopers may be reckless and unstealthy, but speeders negate that disadvantage as long as the Mandalorian and his companions are on foot. All it takes is a moment of surprise for the machines to close the distance.

A simple job.

It hasn't quite turned out to be so simple and he could even say it has gone beyond anything he's ever expected.

From busting criminals out of prison ships to rounding up livestock on secluded worlds, he's taken on a wide range of employment and yet nothing has come close to this. This is not a problem his blaster and courage can solve and if anything, it scares him more than any threat of death could ever even attempt.

Blind trust is exactly the kind of circumstance he's been taught to avoid. Throw him back in the cells they just escaped from and he'd feel more comfortable.

So why did he go with them?

He could have waited, perhaps even turned them in to save his own skin. Instead, he's thrown himself into fugitivity because a young girl and an alien thought it was a good idea.

"Is it not rude to stare?" Shay asks the alien who had taken up residence in the corner of his eyes, hand wavering ever closer to his blaster.

"I don't mind being rude," the alien chuckles. "Helps people stay away from me."

"Then why are you bothering me?" the Mandalorian counters, gently easing his hand up and away from his blaster. He doubts the alien would try and get rid of him so early, especially without the element of surprise.

Stamping the ground to test the solidity of the marshy landscape, the alien plonks herself down with a soft squelch, seemingly ignoring the slight wetness of the ground.

"Wanted to get out of earshot of the Imperial," she replies, shooting an inquisitive look at the Mandalorian. "What do you think? Must be some task she requires to bust us two of that cell and get the whole planet after her."

Taking the time to consider his answer, he wonders whether the alien is already thinking of ditching the girl and carrying on whilst she sleeps. It wouldn't be something unexpected of a Devaronian, but there's too much heat on them at the moment to split up now.

It would be a wise move, albeit it makes him uneasy to leave the young girl alone considering she just deserted the Imperial Army to help them escape a situation they both put themselves in. Imperial or not, facing the death sentence to help two strangers out - for reasons unknown - is something even a Mandalorian can appreciate.

Honour comes in many forms. He won't admit it but he's slightly glad the Imperial summoned some up at the right time.

It would have been far more difficult to escape the holding centre with nothing but a feisty alien companion and his fists. Doable, but certainly more challenging.

"Consider it payment for saving our lives," the Mandalorian finally responds.

"In that case, I preferred the thought of dying in some Imperial cell. Owing people has never got me anywhere but on the wrong side of trouble," the alien huffs stretching out her legs and brushing off some small twigs which had gathered in the creases of her pants.

Hoping the conversation ends there but reminding himself to keep an eye on his more dubious ally, the Mandalorian begins fine-tuning his helmet, adjusting and readjusting the interface until it's perfect. Mandalorians of his particular kind spend the majority of their lives within the helmet, especially when not in the company of family or friends, so it always makes sense to ensure he's got everything running as smoothly as possible.

He can't really remember when he got the helmet, only it chafed his neck until the skin was raw for weeks on end. Instead of doing the sensible thing and getting a more fitting helmet, he managed to grow accustomed to the feeling and eventually it began to fit more snugly.

Helmets are a rare commodity for Mandalorians nowadays. The Empire has made sure the only real way to get one is through service or one of their academies, so he feels lucky to get one without the shame of joining up.

He wonders what the alien would think about wearing a helmet for such a long time. It's an odd feeling to barely know what he looks like considering he hasn't seen his own face in months.

"Wonder what the galaxy looks like through that helmet," Devar ponders out loud.

Adjusting his sight for another infrared search of their surroundings he responds, "complicated. Far too complicated."

"How so?"

"I was taught that a Mandalorian's sole purpose is to serve his family and Mandalore in whatever way gains the most glory and honour. It sounds simple enough, but then I was taught the galaxy is no longer the place for anything like that. Mandalore is a place of values and traditions in a galaxy pushing forwards no matter what and sooner or later, we are going to be forced to accept it is inevitable to change with it," he replies, sighing and wiping some moisture from his visor.

The Devaronian takes a more comfortable position, sliding down a tree until she is seated and leaning against the wood. Hand still placed dangerously close to her blaster, she still remains tense and prepared for action. Someone who has seen much betrayal, the Mandalorian would guess.

She smiles. "You talk as if the Empire hasn't changed the galaxy for the better," she sarcastically says.

"For a select few," he nods. "No doubt the Emperor is added amongst those."

"With some luck, the old man bites the dust soon and everything can return to the good old days where the Republic punishes a poor man for stealing a piece of food for his family more than a rich aristocrat for murdering a whole neighborhood of people," the Devaronian chuckles. "At least now everyone is executed equally."

The sad truth is that Mandalore cannot survive in its current state with either the Empire or the Republic around as both have made it their mission to hunt down any autonomy from those they deem barbaric. Even sadder, he agrees that most Mandalorians have devolved into cold-blooded mercenaries and killers for hire. Honour has become interchangeable with reputation and credits.

A trap he has most definitely fallen into headfirst.

"Movement," the Mandalorian whispers.

Moments after he notices the slight rustling of leaves, he spots two Imperial scouts making their way through the brushes, crushing plants and bugs alike under their boots as they trample their way towards the two. Scouts are never a good sign, but in this case the Mandalorian assumes the worst. Perhaps they have narrowed down their location somehow and sent a forward party to accompany some more speeders. If that's the case, they won't make it far on foot before being run down and they definitely can't get into a firefight.

Beskar can take a blaster shot. The cannons on a speeder is a definite doubt.

"We need to get the kid," he mutters to his companion, whose blaster has already come out of it's holster. "Watch your feet when stepping."

Crouched low and trying not to make noise, his armour clinks and groans as he moves towards where they left the girl. Finding her already aware of the Imperials and keeping a low profile, the Mandalorian kneels behind her and is soon joined by the Devaronian.

"Looks like they haven't given up on us yet," the Imperial sighs. "Thought we weren't going to be worth the effort."

"You're a traitor Imperial, an example needs to be made of you no matter the cost," Devar smirks. "Didn't teach you that at basic, huh?"

"Wouldn't really know. I was in the middle of completing it," the Imperial snorts, shrugging her shoulders at the two on her flanks.

He always knew he was unlucky, but to be rescued by a cadet tops it all off. Serious penance will be needed to return his honour from this.

After the brief exchange, the three of them don't even dare to breathe as the scouts make their way ever closer before stopping on the other side of the brushes the three have camped behind. Using his gauntlet-ed hands to ease out the blades from his bracers to avoid making any sound, he brushes the Imperial to the side to give himself a clear path to the scouts if needed.

"The galaxy's going upside down I tell you," one of the scouts talks to the other, his voice coming out slightly muffled from underneath his helmet. "First a Mandalorian tries to kill an officer and then a cadet breaks him and an alien out."

"Who are we looking for?" the other answers, confused. "I thought we were getting our boots dirty to search for any other rebels. Don't tell me I'll spend the next week scrubbing these for a cadet and some merc."

"And an alien."

"Oh sorry, and an alien. How could I forget?" the scout sighs. "I'm going back to the speeder and figuring out how long we have to wait before we can go back."

"Give it a few hours - the barracks AC broke again last night," the other agrees. "We can see if the rebel has talked yet."

Putting away his blades as the scouts have trudged away from back where they came into view, he turns to the two women next to him.

"Sounds promising," he states.

Imperial barracks are generally well-stocked with all the supplies they'll need to survive in the wilderness until things die down again and if they are lucky they might even be able to steal a speeder or two without anyone noticing.

"Think this rebel can get us off planet?" the alien questions, clearly cynical.

Potentially. Shay would rather not risk incurring even more wrath from the Empire as they already have, but even rebels can be useful and have enough contacts to maybe get them on a shuttle off this hellhole.

"Depends how high up he is."

"Worth a shot," the Imperial pitches in. "The nearest barracks isn't too far way… at least I think."

"This is about to go wrong."