"Word on the ship is you're holding out on me."

T3M4 watches her, silent except for the slight hum of circuitry. Mal strides forward with what she considers her trademark intimidation strut. Lesser beings have faltered from the echo of her boots down a long hall. She corners him next to the hyperdrive.

"Mission says you're a real chatterbox when the two of you are alone. So how come whenever I want to talk, you've got nothing to say?"

Their stare down lasts a full minute before T3 beeps a singular low note.

"Okay, okay. You got me!" Mal throws up her hands in defeat. "I've got no idea what you're saying. But in my defense, I've had a lot of head trauma this year."

T3 shifts, a gentle back and forth motion that comes off inquisitive. Mal groans and sinks down to the cold floor. She props her elbows on her knees and stares hard at the droid.

"I swear I used to know this stuff. I remember understanding. Shit, I wouldn't have even made it this far if I didn't. And it's not just droids either. I'm not sure I know a language until it's already being spoken. Sometimes it's only a fuzzy understanding or the general idea behind it. Sometimes it's clearer than Basic. Either way I couldn't tell you who taught it to me, where I learned it, or how to teach it to anyone else. It's all just…" She waves her hand around unable to find the right words. "And I'm doing my best to put it back together. To make it how I was before. Figure out if I even want to be that way anymore."

The whir of moving parts reminds Mal that she's rambling to an unwilling audience who probably has no interest in hearing her whine.

"Sorry." She grins wryly. "I've made a mess of this conversation. It won't happen again."

She feels T3's active consideration as if she's a rare specimen trapped under layers of glass. Maybe she's as much of a mystery as the little droid is to her. Mal timidly raises her hand and reaches out into the space between them. It's a long moment of waiting. She almost abandons the gesture until T3 slowly moves close enough for her palm to rest against cool metal. There are no grisly visions to steal her attention. The droid remains a fixed point in time, in space, in possibility. An anchor in the storm. The thought makes her smile as she lets her arm fall back to her side.

"So how would you feel about a vocabulator?"

The proceeding beeps and whistles are borderline aggressive.

"Hey, I remember a thing or two about how droids work. Let me poke around in there and I'll have you speaking 600 languages."

T3 slowly rolls away from her.

"I'll take that as a no then." She tries not to pout at the rejection. "I really am good if you ever need anything."

A short response. Mal narrows her eyes.

"That sounded a little condescending. You just wait until we get another droid around here. I'll give them all the coolest mods I know, then you'll be begging me for an upgrade."

The resulting tone is almost placating. Mal laughs. "I think I'm finally beginning to understand you, little one."

The quick patter of feet steals her attention. Mal knows she's gotten pretty good at recognizing everyone by the way they walk on the Ebon Hawk, but these are strange. New. She sighs and shakes her head at T3.

"Work never ends."

"Um, Mal?"

"What's up, Carth?"

"There's a kid next to you."

Mal pauses from stirring the goop of her synthesized breakfast and glances to the young girl happily shoving spoonfuls of the stuff into her mouth.

"Oh, yeah. That's Sasha. Say hi, Sasha."

The girl pauses from eating long enough to glare at Carth and pull the bowl closer to her body. He approaches slowly as someone would a wild animal and takes a seat across from them.

"Mal. Darling." Carth ducks the spoon she throws at him. "Did you kidnap someone's kid?"

"Kidnap?" The notion throws her enough to consider if he's being serious. "Carth. Dear. Do I look like I've got time for something like that?"

"They say you should always make time for your hobbies." He ducks under a second spoon. "Stowaway then. Kashyyyk?"

Mal shrugs. "No clue. I just found her but seems like she's been living here a while."

The sound of clunking feet announces Canderous before he enters the common area. Mal wonders about his need to make so much noise, the warning bell alerting his presence. Who exactly is the courtesy for? He glances at their table before gathering his own meal.

"Who's the stray?"

Sasha freezes, a mixture of uncertainty and terror on her face. Mal places a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiles softly. The reassurance relaxes her enough to continue eating though Sasha keeps Canderous in her peripheral. Mal winks at Carth but his face is glazed over in thought.

"You don't recognize her?"

"Should I?"

Mal leans down to whisper in the girl's ear. "Manlorey is na gon-disen!"

"And what was that supposed to be? Mando'a?"

"Excellent observation, Canderous. She must be one of your long-lost brats come to find her no-good dad."

Canderous looks unimpressed. "You've made better jokes."

"Aww, look at her. You can totally see the family resemblance. There's that signature grumpy face."

His sharp laugh surprises them all as he takes another look at her and leaves. Sasha sticks her tongue out at his back.

"Was that actually Mandalorian?" Carth asks.

"Her version of it. Seems like they kidnapped her before she could fully learn Basic."

"Can you understand what she's saying?"

"Of course! You're talking to the language master here."

"And people say you've got a big ego." He holds Sasha's hostile glare. "Teach me something."

"What do you want to say?"

"I don't know. Tell her I'm a friend."

Mal thinks it over a moment before smiling. She types something out in her datapad and slides it across the table.

"Me na abds yooba. Me poo kut ada."

Sasha bursts into laughter so infectious it sweeps the room. Mal swears she can even hear a chuckle from Canderous float down the hall.

"So what did I actually say?"

"That you're a stinky old man and you won't hurt her."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "I didn't expect anything less."

"It's a made-up language. My options were limited."

A quick shuffle of footsteps accompanied by a heavier, steadier pair approaches. Bastila and Juhani.

"I knew you were up to something."

Mal leans back in her chair until she can see the tops of their heads. The two are slightly out of breath and disheveled from their training session. "I'm literally eating breakfast."

"You can eat breakfast and be up to something at the same time." Bastila smiles triumphantly. "I felt it."

Juhani waves at Sasha who eyes them both curiously. "It seems we've gained an extra crewmember."

Mal sglances at Sasha. "Oh, you mean her? She's been here this whole time."

"And who is she exactly?"

"Her name's Sasha." Mal pauses as a wicked thought forms. "I'm thinking of making her my Padawan."

Bastila crosses her arms and wills for patience. "Padawan? Are you mad?"

"No but sounds like you are. Honestly Bastila, it's never too early to start training your replacement."

Juhani and Sasha seem to be having an entire conversation with gestures and eyes. "I don't feel any Force sensitivity in her."

Bastila sighs. "This is no place for a child. We must send her off."

Mal scoffs. "Yeah, let me go throw her out the airlock while we're jumping through hyperspace."

"Obviously I meant to her home. So where is it?"

"I honestly don't think she knows. It's been too long."

The insinuation derails Bastila's annoyance. She looks curiously at the girl. "Wasn't there someone looking for a child near the Enclave on Dantooine? We should check there first."

"We're almost to Tatooine. It'll have to wait till we're done there."

Bastila looks like she wants to argue, but Carth pipes up before she can speak. "She's lasted this long without us even noticing her. Clearly, she's a tough kid. She'll be safe on the ship."

She turns to Juhani for backup, but the Cathar nods her head. "I agree."

The look of betrayal on Bastila's face is the funniest thing Mal's seen all day. "Fine. But as soon as we're done here, we're taking her back."

Mal raises her hands in surrender. "Smuggler's honor." A smile threatens to burst through at Bastila's unimpressed gaze. "Sorry, Jedi's honor."

Juhani smiles gently at Sasha and follows a grumbling Bastila out of the room. Mal gives up any pretense of eating and empties the contents of her bowl into Sasha's. The girl beams up at her in thanks.

"Why do you really want her on the ship?"

Mal meets Carth's expectant gaze and shrugs. "I meant what I said. Seems like a waste of time to turn around now that we're here." His compliance leaves her suspicious. "Why do you keep staring at her like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you've never seen a child before."

Carth looks away almost guiltily. "It's been a while." Her thoughts must've been clear on her face as he shakes his head. "Don't."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Pretty sure I do."

Sasha pushes her empty bowl towards Mal and smiles. "Me stin-quiw nu ghis."

Mal nods and the girl scampers off to whatever set of panels she's been sleeping under. She turns back to Carth. "Think you know me pretty well then?"

He chuckles. "Come on, Mal. We just made up. Do you really want to play this game?"

She folds her hands together and rests her chin in their cradle. "Now I'm curious. Try me."

Carth holds her gaze for a long moment. Whatever he sees in her eyes must be enough as he slips her the secret of his family. A wife, a son, a tragedy and betrayal. A story that explains his obsession with trust and desire to hunt down Saul. But what does he really want? Revenge for ruining his life and destroying everything he knew? Mal understands that emptiness, that hunger. She's doing the same thing after all. Chasing after a ghost in the hope of salvaging the pieces of a life he ripped away.

There's a question in Carth's eyes that she doesn't know how to answer. A reassurance of her loyalty, a promise not to break him as his former mentor once did. And though the words he needs to hear prickle in her throat, she gives them to him and prays they'll end up true.