Once the Mandalorian had left the bar, an ambiance of obscurity layered the room. It wasn't a comforting feeling. I scanned the corner where the Quarren were huddling, and when it stared back at me—empty—I paid my tab and scoffed. Scooping my bag with my good arm, I swiftly maneuvered around the crowd outside and was behind the Mandalorian, his armor unmistakable. I was struggling to keep up as he twisted through narrow alleys within the bay of the dock, attempting to lose the scent of any potential lurkers. We slipped behind a door and were within the hallways of a small, clean apartment complex, the floors impressively tidy. The Mandalorian used one gloved finger to peek out of a nearby window to make sure we weren't being followed.
"I haven't agreed to anything," I said, clearing my throat. "I have questions." The Mandalorian turned and kept a quick pace as he walked down the hallway. "Where are you going?" I asked, shuffling silently behind him. His broad shoulders ahead of me remained forwards.
"Nevarro."
I caught my breath in my throat, my stomach flipping and twisting into a knot. "Erm, Nevarro?"
The Mandalorian offered no response. Only the echoing of our shoes on the clean floors broke the silence, the occasional muffled cry coming from behind someone's apartment door. When we reached a door, I noticed that strangely enough there was no scripture on it to tell the visitor who was behind it. Finally, he turned to look at me, waiting for me to elaborate.
I managed to keep a straight face. "What is this about the Imps and the Empire? They don't exist anymore," I attempted to be as nonchalant as possible, though it was clear this bit of information was gnawing at me.
Thankfully, the entire galaxy was afraid of the Empire, so this didn't come off to the Mandalorian as surprising. He allowed me only a few more seconds of decision making before he would become too impatient to discuss. "Don't believe everything you hear."
I wish I didn't, I thought to myself, but I instead gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure?" The Mandalorian nodded in response, contributing nothing else. "And they want the kid?"
"Indeed. Are you coming to Nevarro or not?"
"I—I," stammering, I tried to come up with an excuse. "Nevarro hasn't been kind to me in the past," memories flashing in bursts behind my eyelids when I blinked. "Are you sure you want to go there?"
"Yes," he said, the last of his patience thinning, and he turned away, signaling he was through.
The door to the Frog Lady's apartment swung open. The Mandalorian kindly paid his respects to her and her husband as he approached the child and picked him up gently. From the hallway I timidly waved at the Frog Lady and gave her a look that resembled something apologetic. The woman rushed towards me in a frenzy, pulling me inside and gurgling her language as she did so, patting me on the arm with her webbed hands and guiding me to sit. I tried reassuring her I was fine, the small tadpole in the bowl causing my lip to curl and pulled away gradually from her grasp. The Mandalorian stepped between us and confirmed I was well before thanking her again and excusing us.
He moved past me to leave but I caught his arm subconsciously. The Mandalorian's demeanor immediately transformed, his shoulders shifting in anticipation of an attack. I stepped back and raised my hands.
"I can't go to Nevarro." I said, lowering my voice.
He waited a moment and we stood in the hall together, the humming from the lights above filling the void. He wasn't in the mood to negotiate. After helping Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorians raid and steal the Imperial cargo ship, he returned to notice that the Razor Crest was still in desperate need of repairs, no matter how many credits he paid the Mon Calamari. He scoffed. Bo-Katan's recommendation would just have to wait until he could patch up his ship more, and he was certain if he returned to Nevarro, he could get a deal on the parts he needed.
"Fine. Stay here, then." He said dismissively. He tucked the child into the sack strapped to his side and began walking out of the apartment complex. When I didn't respond, he paused at the exit, glancing my way one more time before leaving through the door.
When he was gone, I released a huge sigh of relief, my bottom lip trembling a bit as I did so. The residual nausea from the thought of Nevarro sat with me for several minutes. It had been almost a full decade since I'd been there. Too much trauma was layered within that place and I felt like I was just beginning to peek out from the depths of my previous life—the first one, that is. Things were such a mess, and I certainly wasn't ready to face Nevarro yet. And what was this nonsense about the Empire? I pinched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my eyes.
The sun was bright on my back as I leisurely walked my way towards the docks. Maybe the Mandalorian was right—was I that obviously starting a new life in this place? I pulled my bag further up my shoulder and subconsciously cast a nervous glance behind me. I didn't want to attract too much attention to myself. I found a nearby cart and purchased more provisions before settling in a clean spot on the ground to relax in for the night. Others like me were nearby and doing the same thing, but I still had to force my breathing to slow. Travelers between planets typically resided in these areas, so as far as everyone else knew in this moment, I was just like one of them. I pulled a book from my duffel and tried to distract myself with the words before me, scraping the thought of Nevarro from the edge of my mind.
I was beginning to doze off when I felt a light kick to my foot. I ignored it at first, but when it became more persistent, I snarled and lifted my hood up an inch to peer out. I was slightly irritated and assumed it was a child running about—but instead, I saw the same goons from the bar earlier in the day. I breathed in quick and drew my legs closer in an attempt to protect myself. The Quarren laughed and lifted me by my collar, tossing my bag to his comrade. My breath was quick, and I counted the men that surrounded me, my palms sweating when I lost track after five. The leader shoved me down an alley and ushered me towards a dark hut, grimy curtains covering the doorway. I started to resist by pulling away from the Quarren, but several others lumbered closer to us, threatening me. He brought his mouth close to my ear and whispered dreadful things, threatening worse if I didn't obey.
Each step we took closer to the hut sewed a new stich in my plan to kill the Quarren. I knew I could get myself out of this situation if I needed to, but now was not the time, not with all of these witnesses on the docks surrounding us. When we were inches from the doorway, I saw someone's scowl from within the darkness—their teeth baring at the sight of me—but suddenly, just as I was about to begin my escape, commotion broke out behind me. I was pushed to the ground and before I could process the situation, someone grabbed my leg and began dragging me closer to the darkened hut. I clawed at the cobblestone in a struggle. There were bodies above me being thrown into houses and carts, feet scuffling close to my face. To avoid being dragged further, I bended the earth—it responded by providing me with two handles in which I clung to. The thug who was tugging at me was getting agitated at my disobedience and grabbed the back of my shirt to pull me up. I twisted on my hip and kicked them swiftly in the jaw, their teeth breaking with a gruesome crunch. They whimpered in repulsion, holding their face tenderly, pressing their knee into my hip so I couldn't move. I yelped out in pain. As I was about to bend the air and knock the brute off of me, a whip of cable wrapped around their shoulders and sent them sideways. I spun and laid flat on my stomach, watching as the group of them were now bruised or beaten and scattered around the alleyway. I scanned the area and my eyes landed on the Mandalorian; his silhouette shadowed by the sunlight behind him. He pulled me up by my arm, privately assessing me to make sure I had no broken limbs and directed me towards the Razor Crest.