Chapter One: The Drop Off & Trade Off:

Recap:

He looked around again and whispered "The Bounty Hunters Guild put pressure on the New Republican Senate and made it so that freelancing is looked down on as well," he shrugged and said, "as well as Imp – "he jerked back as my helmet faced him with sudden intensity. He might not have been able to seen it, but he felt my glare. 'Kriffing Greef Karga'

POV of Din Djarrin

I felt like I was going to combust for a moment in sheer irritation and exasperation at such fecking gall. "How?" I asked. The official stepped back like I was a feral animal with bared fangs. The official gulped and said in a stutteringly high voice "Uh, there is evidence of Imperial remnants recruiting among free-lancing mercenaries. The guild's representative brought it before the New Republic Senate and pitched a well enough set of points and even brought in a witness freelance bounty hunter that worked for the Imperial remnant. The bounty hunter was found a few days later, or rather pieces of him were found," the official grimaced queasily.

I thought about it for a moment. There could be dozens of reasons why the freelancer died, but the presentation and all … I came back to myself, and gave the official a slight nod, "Anything else you know about this?"

The official shook his head sadly, "No and I am sorry Mando, I truly am. Everyone who knows you. Or at least," here he quirked his lips in a shadow of a smirk, "everyone who thinks, knows you would rather shoot an Imp than work with one. If we could, those of us who trust you would like to have you instated as a consulting bounty hunter and investigator – "I interrupted him with, "That would not work. You know it and I know it. But that is fine. If the Bounty Hunters Guild wants all freelancers to join that badly, something is up." I glance at him in time to see his startled blink. He starts to say something when I continue, "This maneuver on the part of the Guild smells odd and not in a good way. To start with trying to gather in everyone is going to be herding a bunch of Mudhorns with a vibroblade and a hangover. Now either this is a power play among the Bounty Hunters by the Guild, saying that they can make it illegal for anyone else to hunt down bounties and make it stick by the New Republic, or someone else is using the guild as a way to check, track and use the Bounty Hunters for their own purposes or both." I look back at him after another scan of the crowd to see the official gawking at me. I tilted my head slightly in inquiry.

The official shook his head with admiration and said in low voice "You have just learned about this and already you deduced that." He straightened a little more when I shifted to look at him straight. "This will be my last bounty that I will accept for pay with credits," I said slowly, "There are a few bounties, however, frozen in carbonite in my hold now that I had already accepted from the New Republic and an open bounty that I will trade for information, specifically any and all information on Imperials." I smirk at his startled look. "Ugh, I am sure I can manage that last request. Just give a few days to make sure it is everything we have on the Imps. Meanwhile, we will see the bounties." With that, he went to go up the hatch to where the bounties were. I scanned the crowds a final time and went to follow. "Wait!"

We both turn to face the Mythrol I had dropped off break from his family and stop a few feet away. I tilted my head at him which he took as permission to speak. "I do not know how to say thank you enough, but if you ever need anything, please," he took a deep breath, "Please," he repeated, "do not hesitate. Just ask and I will do anything within my power to help." He ducked his head bashfully and rushed back to his family.

I nodded to them and turned to walk back up the hatch. The official had the scanner from his holster and was scanning the third bounty. A data-pad with the information detailing the bounty scrolling on it with another data-pad beside it saying how much I had earned on this stop. I glanced at it. 'Three-hundred thousand,' I read as I glanced towards the official, 'only the third one. Still six more to go.' That was my routine usually. Grab a dozen or so bounties at one time and hunt. If pressed for funds – which had not happened since I manage money well and have ways of getting money in near every system from the Core to the Outer Rims – I would have returned early and deposited the ones I had found and go out again. The official – I never ask names, so they can't ask for mine politely – is now scanning the third to last.

My thoughts turn dark as I think about the funds stashed away all over the galaxy. It should have been going to a covert with a bunch of ad'ika running underfoot. But I never could find them. By the time I found whispers of a fellow Mandalorian, they are long gone. I hope I will eventually catch up to them. But I know why they are in hiding so well. It is after all, a reason I stay on the move. We know that just because the Empire is gone, that doesn't mean Imperial remnants are not out there still, biding their time to reemerge and overtake the fledgling New Republic. Not that I completely trust said-Republic either.

The official is done, I glance at the data-pad. 'One-million and two-hundred thousand,' Then again, this last run has comprised of a mass-rapist, three high-profile former-Imps that somehow managed to escape prison, a serial killer who had conned and killed four New Republic Senators and then went on to kill the entire immediate family – whose extended family promised a big reward for who could catch the kriffing slimeball – and even a handful of assassins that worked mostly Imperial jobs, but had switched to Core-gangsters when it fell. The only innocent one of the whole lot was the last one, the bail-jumper. The Quarren on the last ice-rock was a lucky find. An embezzler who had made off with about three-hundred thousand credits – that was a big one that someone was going to hate me for. 'But then,' I snorted to myself as I saw the official going through the process of placing the credits into one of my Core-accounts, 'Near every bounty hunter and mercenary worth their pucks knows me. Near all of them I am sure cannot stand to hear Mandalorian or the nickname the New Republic refers to me as.' I started "Do not put the embezzler into that account," he turned startled at me, I continued "I can afford to be charitable. Use that reward to grease the wheels to get the information on the Imperials faster. If there is anything else left over, give it to your favorite charity or save it for a harsher time." He looked at me with open wonder in his expression.

"Never have I even heard, let alone met another bounty hunter like you. Giving away such an amount of credits for information. And saying that I should just give it away or keep it," he shook his head in admiration. "Would that other people thought like you do." I remained silent. He looked at me, shook his head and made the transactions. "I will see about greasing those wheels. In the meantime," he gestures to the hatch, "I will call the other officials of the Hub to have this trash unloaded." I nod as I let him leave the ship before me. He was already on a commlink talking into it. The crowd had dispersed almost completely. No one sane really wants to aggravate a Mandalorian. Well, no one sober.

I notice one group of beings lingering in the corner where shadows made deep pools against the blistering sun. It was a trio of Jawas. I approached and said "[Greetings.]" With as much practice as I have with negotiating with the little people, I am almost as fluent as I am in Mando'a. The Jawas bowed in respect and says "[We saw you land. Anything new to trade?]" I nodded. "[I will trade a very large Ravinak Tusk, a brace of eggs from different species, and four bolts of my DuraSteel-Silk for working on making the Hyperdrive more efficient and a general look over for any parts that need replacing.]" The Jawa got very excited. I saw in the corner of my visor, the group of New Republic flunkies following the official onboard the Razor Crest and beginning to unload the bounties. The Jawa talks on their own commlink and I hear excited chatter of Jawas discussing the trade-off. The tusk – the big one – will keep my things where they are, the eggs for the Hyperdrive and the Bolts of specialize cloth will see to the repairing and replacing of parts and keep the Jawas wanting to keep up good relations with me.

Why others did not try this is beyond me. No matter what could be said about the Jawas, they never broke a contract. This contract with me was actually a record of the longest one outside of their own kind that has ever existed. And they wanted to keep it badly. After all, I treated them with respect so long as they did the same. "[No pesky competitors playing Imp that I should know about?]" They all looked up at me and shook their head vigorously at the same time. I nodded as I turned away from them and went back to my ship. The group with my former load was coming down the hatch with each one. The newest one I would guess looking a little green. I walked past them noticing he had the Quarren. Mischievously, I drawled, "Let that be a lesson to all: what happens when you pull a blaster on a Mandalorian." The only one in the group that did not twitch was the official who talked to me the most who was bringing up the rear with the con artist serial killer. A steel-haired fellow who looked at me with a smirk and said to the group in general, "Aye, let it be a lesson no one hear has to learn the hard way," nodding to me, continued "Don't mind Ghost though. No one here is that stupid or suicidal to get on the wrong end of one of their hunts."

As I pass the slab of carbonite he is pushing, he murmured, quietly enough I barely heard him, "It is a stupid thing the Guild is pulling, but what can you do?" I tilted my head as I paused and murmured back, "Do you really want that answered honestly?" He snorted and looked at me with amusement and then shook his head. "Don't need you to say anything," he said as he glanced significantly down at the slab, "I've seen bounties you brought back that you got mad with."

I go up into my lower level deck and open one of my many hidden storage spaces. I grab my tent supplies, close it; open another and get out a carving specialty kit, close that one. It is all light weight to me, and as I exit the ship again, I see the Jawas' Crawling Fortress. A pulley system is already set up and the Jawas are approaching the Razor Crest. I rest my supplies next to the small set of tusks and bundle them all, but two of the tusks, together with a red ribbon rope with tasseled ends with embroidered with white and blue Mythosaurs on them. The two I don't take, I put in the bundle, I lean on the side of the wall. The ribbon lets the Jawas know that all that is coming with me. I climb up to the level where most people see only the cockpit, but has my personal quarters and more storage. From one of the storages, I pull out the bolts of DuraSteel-Silk, all of them in the shimmering blue-green patterns that are highly prized by today's Inner Rim and Core nobility. The Jawas are not the only ones I trade this with, but when I do, I know that they will get an excellent deal from it and no one has yet to discover who actually is making the clothe. 'If ever I wish to retire and take up another means of income,' I think to myself with a smirk, 'I will just set up shop as a tailor. People would come from the galaxy over to get an outfit from my hand.' Not that I ever would retire and settle down like an old spinster. I mentally shook away the silly fantasies that would sometimes creep up on me. I put the bolts of fabric in a bantha-leather sack that has the same embroideries on it as the ribbon. That tells the Jawas that the bag is coming back with me.

I climb down the ladder to see that the Jawas have already taken the be-ribbon supplies and tusks with them. I put the sack over my shoulders and then bend to lift the big tusk from the bottom – thickest part – and as I lift, I hear a Jawa say, "[Where are eggs?!]" I look over at them and say "[They are in the specialized container that has Jawa in Basic on it.]"

Most of the Jawas go looking for that container, while a pair help me with the big tusk. We carry it out and down the hatch to the Crawling Fortress. I am handing it over when the container marked especially for the Jawas comes hovering out of the Crest, all of them babbling in excitement. I smile with amusement, though no one else can see. The big tusk and the container, along with all but two Jawas go inside their moving facility. The duo gesture me over to the pulley system. As I step on it last, we are pulled up to the top of the Crawling Fortress. We reach the top only for me to see that the Jawas had set up my tent for me. Thanking the ones already there I approach the tent with the sack from my back being taken off and given to the eagerly awaiting Jawas. They open it and eagerly start talking about the bolts. They all dart down into the Fortress, leaving me alone at the summit with my tent. I am glad for some solitude. I go to my tent and close it. Hastily, I take my helmet off and devour a ration bar from my belt pouch and put the helmet back on as I am chewing the last bite. While I trust the Jawas further than I can throw them, they're not fellow Mandalorians, let alone –

I sigh as I wrench my thoughts away from the past and open my tent to enter the sunlight again. The Jawas are already working on my ship and a Jawa was walking up to me "[Good so far, working on Hyperdrive soon. Maybe to sunset. No replacements needed.]" I nod, that is half a day away. 'Thank Mandalore for the built-in stimulants in the ration bar or I would be falling asleep up here.' I get out my carving set and the two tusks. They are about six feet long each. I looked at them and nodded to myself. I put the first tusk down on its side and sat cross legged nearby and began. An hour had passed by when a Jawa appeared and sat down to watch. They loved watching me do things like this. I never could quite figure out why, but since they never bothered me really unless there was an emergency, I did not mind. With more time passing by, more Jawas came up to watch me silently with snacks including – I saw out of the corner of my eye – some of the eggs I had traded for. From the size, I knew these Jawas were juveniles. It did not bother me still, but as I carved, a few began to shift restlessly. Knowing more about little ones than anyone would guess a Mandalorian would ever care to know, I began to hum. They stilled, watching me with their glowing red eyes from beneath those hoods of theirs. This is when I began to sing.

Now, I know a lot of people do not know much of Mandalorians. Most think now that they are just a myth, a legend used to scare people. And of the few that know we exist, only a handful know anything at all about us. Most are used to thinking us Imperial scum ourselves and do not seem to remember that we too were victims of purges from the Empire. But it is rare indeed among the rarity that is a Mandalorian, to hear one sing. I think that even these little Jawas knew what a rare event was occurring. I think I even see a recording device or two hidden in sleeves. I just continue to carve and sing softly. It may lose some of it's ability to come across because of language barriers and the helmet's setting to the lowest pitch I could manage for my voice, but it still calms the Jawas down. I sing softly to them as I carve the story of the hunt on the tusk. I work in a spiral as I carve. The song I sing is easy enough to sing even when full out running after prey. It has to be, since it is a song of a hunt from long in the misty pasts of Mandalore and was used as a way for foundlings as I was to learn the language and culture of our saviors and adopted family while training our bodies to do everything it could at the limit of said-bodies and push the limits even further.

The tusk is finished being carved and it at the very tip of the tusk when I see that the sun is starting to set. I glance over the rim of top to see Jawas still working on the Crest. I might be able to carve another portion of tusk. I set the done one to the side and start the second tusk. Singing a new song about the great Mythosaurs as I began to carve this tusk to be an abstract with a pair of Mythosaurs and a pair of Mandalorians holding together the Heart of Mandalore. It is just as detailed as the one where I carved the hunt of the Ravinak on it and parts of the lore and wisdom to be used on such a hunt. I blinked and cleared my throat realizing it has gone dry. I look up to see an adult trio of Jawas standing in front of the littler ones. They silently pointed down, I looked and saw that the last of the Jawas were leaving and coming towards the Crawling Fortress. "[You sing beautifully Ghost Mandalorian,]" one of them said quietly, "[We thank you for keeping little ones entertained. The ship is good, no faulty things anywhere. The Hyperdrive is up to eighty-two percent efficiency. As a thank you for entertaining and keeping the little ones out of trouble, we refueled for you.]" I stand and bow, thanking them. I looked at my tent or rather where the tent was being disassemble by the little Jawas as they chatter quietly enough, I could not make out what they were saying. They packed the tent, while I packed my carving kit up and the bag where I had been putting all the peelings of ivory from the tusks. This I gave to the Jawas. "[Ivory peelings may help polish even scrap for the unwary.]" I said with amusement. The adults laughed and the little ones giggled.

The tent was handed over to me and I secured it the little ones came up and all caressed the carved pair of tusks. I waited until they all had a turn and only then did; I pick them up and steady them on my shoulder to make my way to the pulley system to let myself down to the ground to go to my ship. The Jawas bade me farewell and I did the same.

The system lowered me down and I approached my ship. I could not tell the difference in the ship just yet. I would know soon enough, but first refreshment, more food, and sleep. Maybe not in that order. I had just set down the tusks in a storage unit near the very back of the ship, when I hear someone calling for me. I go up to the hatch and look out. There is the official who had seen the Mythrol bounty off and had initially warned me about the new policy for freelancers. He was waving something at me as he raced over. "Hey, Mando," He gasped for air as he met me at the base of the ramp. He thrust the data-pad he was carrying in my general direction. It was thicker than usual data-pads and as I studied it, I realized why. He must have had to rush this very fast, to get an entire library's worth of information down into a single data-pad and an attached case of data chips. I looked from the data-pad to the official's face.

He had recovered from his run to straighten at my attention. "You said that you would not mind using the bounty from that embezzler to grease the wheels. Turns out, you are pretty famous in some circles. Is it true?" he asked not once taking his eyes off my helmet. "Is it true that you helped the Rebellions against the Empire? That you're the Ghost?" I thought about it and seeing no reason to lie, nodded curtly. He seemed to hover with awe and said "Well, I told the archivists for the local strongholds that I needed any and all information about the Empire and it's controllers. There was some hemming about security issues, but when asked questions about who wanted it and when I told them it was a Mandalorian, things got quiet. I was told to come to the nearest one. So, I did. I was asked a great deal about you. I told them I did not know much about you at all. They asked about the hangar you were in, but I told them you always landed on the outskirts. They actually looked up the local surveillance to see you and they caught a snap shot of you talking to us earlier." He paused here to take a deeper breath, then continued. "They recognized you, well one of them did. Said you used to help out the Rebellion and were nicknamed the Ghost, because – "I interrupted him with a statement of "Yes, I know why they called me the Ghost." He blushed, "Sorry, anyway, they gave me this," here he gestured to the data-pad I held, "to give to you free of charge with an apology about not ever mentioning you in official reports."

He got a curious look on his face, "I did not know you were a part of the Rebellion." I shrugged, "I was for a time, but only after I earned the trust of the Rebellion. Fett," I said with distaste, "sure gave Mandalorians a bad reputation. The worse thing about that is the fact that he was not a true Mandalorian." I explained to his puzzled look, "He never swore to follow the Creed that all Mandalorians know and live by. Thus, he was not a true Mandalorian." I look down at the data-pad and looked at the specifics. There was enough data here to start with. I knew that I would have to go to Nevarro and meet with Greef Karga and become part of the Bounty Hunters Guild, before I could take anymore bounties, but that did not mean that I could not take a scenic route and just make a few stops along the way, for rest and relaxation of course. I look up and said "It may be free of charge, but keep the reward for the bounty as I told you earlier. If you must, buy everyone a round of drinks and toast to the end of the Imperials for good and a toast to the health of each other and the true Mandalorians in general. Thank you for the promptness."

I turned to go back into my ship. "Wait!" for the second time that day, I halted and turned around at the word. The official was still gasping and sputtered "You are just going to leave like that?" I tilted my head and said "What else is there to say? The bounties are unloaded, the credits and information transferred, thanks have been given on both sides and I have to go to Nevarro and join the Bounty Hunters Guild before I may accept anymore bounties." I straightened my head and nodded to his startlement, "Until our paths cross." I finish as I turn and close the hatch. I hear a phrase that sounded remarkably like an echo of my farewell.

Now, after a few little delays, I could get off this dirt pile and be on my way. I climbed into the cock-pit and started the engines. They purred as they usually did. The Jawas do excellent work, so long as they know you and have a contract with them, I lift off the ground and can see from the visual screens that allow me to monitor the engines and such like from the front seat. I lifted off the planet.

I looked at the data-pad that had been given to me at the last moment and clicked it open to scan if any former Imperial strongholds were on the route to Nevarro. To my satisfaction there was actually two. They were barely a parsec away from Nevarro and apparently one was only a refueling station according to this information and the other a storage depot. I would look into them both on the way. I punched in the coordinates for the station and let the computer do calculations. I looked over more information about the refueling station as the calculations were running. The computer finished before I finished reading, but then I was getting bleary eyed. I needed to sleep, but first, food and refreshment. I started the hyperdrive jump and it was like a dream, it was so smooth. I reminded myself to do something nice for the Jawas to keep the contract running.

I climbed down the ladder after seeing that it would be another day or so for the Crest to get to the Imperial refueling station. Plenty of time. I ate a small stored container of jerky and cheese, with a meloni-fruit while I walked over to the sonic shower on the lower deck. I stripped out of my clothes and hopped into the shower. It was not as refreshing as a real shower, but it would do for now, so that I did not feel like I went to sleep in a clean bed with a reeking and dirty body. I left the helmet off for this of course. My hair felt like oil was running down the nape of my neck. In a word: disgusting. After the sonic shower, the phrase was: refreshingly clean. My dirty clothes I left in the sonic shower. No one was going to use it for a while, so I did not have to smell dirty clothes in my personal quarters. I would do laundry after a real bath. I walked out bare of anything, but hey who would be watching on a ship with a crew of one in the middle of a hyper-speed jump?

I put a slow cooker pot on that would cook a lovely stew while I slept. I usually did these kinds of meals on long hunts, stakeouts and the like. But since, I would be sleeping for most of the time and would be ravenous when I did wake up, I knew this was the perfect dish to have. The prep time took about ten minutes with me adding things already prepped and frozen in storage. I simply took the items out of the bags they had been sealed into, put them in the pot. And put the pot in the special oven fixture that had proven to be able to keep my food on a level surface – unless I have to maneuver in a upside down arc of some sort, then I get to clean up the ceiling of the lower deck – and can keep my food warm. I set the specialty valve the Jawas had installed a few years ago at my urging and allowed the heat from the engines to cook the meal and warm up the bed I was wanting to fall into and not come out of for a while. And since I was done with the meal prep and was going to have to wait at least twelve hours for it to be done, I could go find that bed which seemed to sing with a siren's beautiful croon of hidden bliss.

I climbed back up the ladder to my personal quarters, which were cozy, enough space to fit a bed, a few storage chests and an armor stand; with my armor in a bag slung over my shoulder. I dug through my chest closest to the bed and got dressed in undergarments and sleeping attire. I did not have enough energy to keep awake much longer. I had just enough energy to set the alarm triggers in case anything happened that needed to be addressed and slipped under the covers. I was asleep between one deep breath and the next.