Chapter Eight: On the Way to Canto Bight & Deepening Mysteries:
Later, she got her wish. Both ships had left Hoth. One heading for the Core of the New Galactic Republic, and her Razor Crest shooting towards that Imperial refueling station. If she got to just destroy it and maybe some droids, Din felt like she would perk up.
Reviews: Thank you for the questions:
There were a couple of questions from Clare Prime of Ultra:
"Nice flash back.
Fem!Din & Luke Skywalker!? Ah hell no! Those two will tear each other apart. Nothing romantic about them at all.
Please do Din & Paz. I can just see Din throwing Paz over her shoulder because he underestimated her based on her size. And I can see him trying to court her afterwards, which leads to him constantly getting punched by the female.
I don't know if its just me but that sounds exactly what Fem!Din would do.
Anyone else ship this? fem!Din X Paz"
~ Thank you for the compliment on the flashback – hopefully, the next ones [when they get there] are just as good if not better. As far as the "Nothing romantic about them at all." … I can just imagine Luke trying to get Baby Yoda, not knowing that he was already adopted by Din; only to come face-to-face with a Mando to give him the well-deserved ass-kicking and some reality checks, he desperately needs. As far as Paz, yes, I can definitely see that, but I thought of a better scenario for them to finally meet. It will take Paz a long fricking time to get there with Din, if he ever does. No doubt witnesses will think hysterical and place bets.
~…As much as I love hearing comments from Clare Prime of Ulta, will someone else comment in reviews, please. I feel like They are the only one really reading!
Now on with the Journey: In a galaxy far, far away…
Din Djarrin was finishing her lovely supper while she contemplated her takings from the last two jobs, when she got a communication from the Guild on Nevarro. Making sure her helmet was positioned properly and the haul were still in their bags; she opened the communication. Greef Karga. He looked awe-struck.
"Mando!" He greeted boisterously, "I just received word about your last job! Wonderful. I don't know what you did, but you really impressed the client. He was a little disappointed that you were already on another string of jobs, but he paid the bounty in full with a little extra. If you would, please share what you did to make him so happy. He already has another bounty job; this one for anyone in the Guild. We do need repeat customers." 'So,' Din thought, as she listened to Karga wax eloquently, 'the former client for that gang was so pleased that he paid extra. Hmm, why?' She flipped the switch that would allow her to actually talk back to Karga.
~ POV Change ~ {Greef Karga}
He was surprised when the communication console he was using went from transmitting one way to a hologram of the Mandalorian to pop up on the console. The Mando said, "Why did he pay extra? He had already paid me the full amount and a tip when I was on-planet. The portion from that for the Guild has already been set aside. As for what I did," the Mando paused and made a noise that didn't translate properly, "The job wasn't too detailed on the puck. It had some, but not much. When I arrived, there was already a small group, seven, waiting on me. They wanted money for "rent". Six were shot dead and the seventh played unwilling tour guide, until I found the actual client. The real client wanted me to shoot the idiot in the head. Instead, I shot him in the back of the knee. Enough to cripple the idiot and leave him to the mercies of the Client. It has to be one of the quickest done jobs, not very fulfilling. I trust the Client got much satisfaction from his pastime?"
Karga blinked at the hologram of the Mandalorian. He hadn't expected that the Mando would communicate back or for the information that he shared. The Client – who was actually a gangster with ties to the Hutts – wasn't one to pay double – or even triple, depending on the size of the tip. "Thanks for calling back Mando," he said instead of repeating the information. The other hunters were listening in, some looking impressed, but a lot looked sullen. The job string that had been given to the Mandalorian had all asked for a Mandalorian or the Ghost to have it done. Thirteen jobs, that had been more than had come into the Guild in two years. Hopefully, the other jobs would take him longer to do.
Not expecting any kind of answer, Karga asked, "How are the other jobs going? Are you in route?" The silence that followed made him almost believe that the Mando had hung up on him, but no. "Eight other jobs done, still in route to the tenth." The deadpan statement that came over the console startled him into replying with a "What?" The Ghost seemed to look at him, then shook his head. Now the Mando hung up.
"Already on the tenth?" was a voice that came strangled out of another hunter's mouth. Greef looked over at the crowd. They were all staring at the console with a mix of awe, anger, and – what looked to him – lust that had just shown the Mando's upper body. The Twi'lek that had first read the Ghost's contract after him looked especially hungry. Greef tried to ignore it, stomping down on his own libido. There was something about the speed at which the Ghost seemed to complete his work.
A few of the more inexperienced grumbled about liars and Mandos. It was there that the oldest hunter there – a scarred and white-haired human – looked over at the young disbelievers and snorted. "I should like to see the many pieces the Mandalorian will leave you in if you say that too many times," He said then chuckled, "more pucks for those of us who know better than to pick a fight with the Ghost." Here, he beckoned to the bartender for a drink and said, "While we wait for more pucks, if you care to listen, I will tell you a tale I know about the Ghost."
Greef turned off the console and reminded himself to get a smaller one that he could use without being overheard by everyone that would be fit to use for galactic communications. With one ear tuned to listening to the oldest hunter in the Guild tell the story that already made some listeners turn pale, he started looking down at the list of jobs. There was one from the Client that the Mando had dealt with. The message with the payment had been glowing and the Client had stated that he would put in a word for the Guild – the Mandalorian in particular – with the Hutts.
~ POV Change ~ {Din Djarrin}
Din shook her head as she turned off the communications. She shouldn't have done that, but hey; she didn't want Karga so surprised that he had a heart attack. She had a contract with him and the Guild, she didn't want to waist such a contract. Getting up she put the dishes in the sink to start cleaning. Glancing at the alarm she had set before she made the jump to Hyperspace, she saw she had about five minutes to be in the cockpit to make the approach to the refueling station. She'd have to be quick.
'Well,' she thought amused a little, Forcing the crystals to be in the closet with the carved and still uncarved Ravinak tusks – along with her other trophies she hadn't dropped off at her "Home Base" yet – and Force consolidating all the money (except the Imperial ones, those she put in a separate pouch) from the pouches she got off the dead thugs into her own money pouch, 'I do need the practice.' Climbing up the ladder as the closet door was closed and the money pouch was reattached to her belt.
Din got situated and was ready when the Razor Crest exited out of Hyperspace to approach the refueling station. This one was different from the previous one, by one very big difference. It looked like it had already been attacked and near destroyed completely. She frowned in puzzlement and growing irritation. The last two jobs had been unfulfilling and one had been on Hoth. She wanted to blow up some Imps, damn it!
As she approached, she saw that while it had been mostly destroyed, there were signs that the attackers had taken hardware – lots of hardware. It took a few minutes for her to see what was left and come up with another conclusion than the station just being destroyed. It had been harvested. It wouldn't have been by the Jawas. They didn't have the firepower to take this thing out, even if only manned by droids.
Checking and circling, Din wondered about the puzzle in front of her. Who would do this? Who had the capacity? There was nothing here for her though and it made her even more irritable. She turned on all the sensors and went over everything she could find. She wanted to know who had done this! It took a near an hour for her to find a trail. It wasn't much, but with all the modifications that she and the Jawas had done over the years, she still found it. It was a slight trail, like the ship that had made it had been badly damaged and extensively repaired. Only ships that had seen a lot of combat would leak that kind of gas.
The trail eventually led her to the boundaries between the Unknown Regions and the Outer Rim. The scowl that was on her face was a mix of rage and puzzlement. Who would have done this? Was it an ally? Old Rebels? New Republic? Someone else? People claimed that the Empire was gone, but she knew better. It had just gone underground, off sensors for the most part.
Knowing that she couldn't go any further into the Unknown Regions, she left the trail; making a mental note to have that refueling station marked only as possibly destroyed. It could simply have been recycled by the Imperial remnants after all. She put the trail signature in her database. If the ship came up somewhere else in the Outer Rim, she'd eventually find it. For now, she would continue onto those shipyards.
It actually was a little shorter trip, but she got to the first shipyard. It orbited a small moon and seemed it could only handle two old Imperial Star Destroyers at a time. And indeed, there was one on the dock. The place actually had the look of being in operation though. Din was grateful that her ship was off the sensors of even the newer parts of the Old Republic. After all, her ship was very old and extensively modified. She might want to do this one with some help though. That wouldn't stop her from getting some information for later.
The first things that she noticed was that the Star Destroyer was an older model, not so many weapon turrets as the newer models had had and actually looked like it might have been one of the models that could land on a planet. 'That Star Destroyer…,' Din thought to herself musing as she kept collecting data on the shipyard, 'I might not be able to fly it alone. The crew needed to pilot such a craft would number in the thousands…but I am not getting that many lifeform readings on scanners. Nor am I Feeling that many lives. Why not? Are there droids doing the operations? Or something else?' After a long moment, Din decided to approach the shipyard.
The closer she got, the more her puzzlement and growing excitement. The lifeforms she was sensing were not near enough to pilot such a craft nor operate this shipyard. That must mean that there were a considerable number of droids doing the work. She decided that maybe she could take this thing out on her own. She needed more practice using the Beskad and the Dinuir Haran Redalur in actual combat rather than just katas.
She looked for the blind spot. Places like this always have blind spots. Where contracts cut as many corners as they could to save credits or even where the designs fell through. Twenty minutes later, a predator's smile bloomed on Din's face. A small hangar on the bottom of the Star Destroyer itself was where she put her Razor Crest. Activating on the Ground Zero Security Protocols just in case some idiot Imp came into this hangar. With her Buir's Beskad strapped across her back, under her cloak and her Amban rifle crossed just over it, Din left the hangar; concentrating on the Force to make her as close to invisible as possible.
Two hours later, she got to the command center and looked it over. It was empty, completely deserted. There was not a single droid or organic being on the entire blasted ship. It took her a while to find the place where the Star Destroyer was docked onto the shipyard. When she exited, Din looked for the control center for the shipyard. She had seen it already in her outside scouting, it would take a little stroll to get there. She passed a few contingents of droids, all doing maintenance or recharging. There weren't even any security droids wondering around. She wondered about that a little, but put it out of her mind for the moment.
When she got to the shipyard's command center, she saw seven technicians in Imperial garb. She was very close to killing them all, when she saw the collars. Each of the technicians had a collar that pulsed red. When they looked at the door, she knew they saw no one. One of them, even went and looked out into the hallway left and right; probably trying to see who was playing a joke. When he got back from his check, another asked in a tired voice, "Who was there?" The tech that had checked shook his head and replied in an equally dull tone, "No one." That was about the time the collars flashed crimson in a pattern. The techs to a man, flinched and left the control room together.
Din frowned. Never had she seen collars on Imperial techs before, only on – that's when it hit her. There was no one now in the room but her. This is when she went over to the security consoles. There were cameras at strategic points, including the mess hall that was attached to the Shipyard. It was there, that she saw the missing crew for the Star Destroyer. It was a mixed bag of species, most being humans; they all had the pulsing red collars on them. Correcting herself, she saw that there looked to be officers that didn't have the collars. Din also noticed other differences.
Most of those eating looked hollow-eyed and gaunt-cheeked. Some had visible dark circles under their eyes. The officers looked much better. Some of them had circles under their eyes, but none of them were gaunt. And some, some had a look on their faces as they looked over the crew members, that made her want to take a mind flayer to them. She turned her attention back to the consoles around her.
She saw the console that doubled as an archive. Din smirked, 'Imperials have to be uniform, have to be the same; no matter what the facilities were supposed to be used for.' Din started the transfer of the information on the Shipyards' archives. Seeing how long it would take, she went to the next console that caught her attention. There she found out what kind of security the Shipyard had. There was even a message that she read. That message – with its tone of condescension and arrogance – made her lips curl in a sneer of disgust and rage.
Apparently, the security was towards those pulsing red collars and those that wore them. The Imps were not worried about the New Republic. The thought among the Imperial high-ups was that the New Republic wouldn't have the resources nor the time to look into every single system in the galaxy and that by the time that they got to this specific location, the place would be abandoned; its job done.
The security went on in detail about the collar wearers were basically conscripted slaves and prisoners from the former Imperial prisons like Accresker and Imperial factories. There was one officer that had the "keys" to the collars; the captain of the Star Destroyer. Going back over to the console with the cameras in the mess hall, she saw that the crew were still eating. What they had looked about as unappetizing as a ration could get. She didn't think the people on Jakku would mistake it for food.
The feeling of pity wasn't something Din was used to feeling for Imps, but could these really be classified as Imps? Prisoners and slaves didn't really have any free will or a way to fight the Imps. She read another bit of the security protocols. The Security and Battle Droids were powered down until they were given emergency power to fight off anyone that came calling. The problem was that the security would only be activated if someone landed on the shipyards docking, not on the ship that was already docked. Dark amusement bubbled into her chest. It took only about a minute for her to initiate a self-destruct sequence for when the Star Destroyer left the shipyard and was about thirty minutes out, while broadcasting a distress call for a problem that would cause a self-destruct. What exactly would start the self-destruct would be left to whoever approached imaginations.
Checking the surveillance console, she noticed that the crew was rising and leaving the mess hall. A beeping brought her attention to the information console. The data-block was finished putting all the information that was available on the console for transport. She Force-floated the thing and quickly left the command center and went to look for the Captain. She wanted a word.
[Two hours later]
Din found the Captain in the officer's quarters later. The rest of the officers had already been dispatched and put in the Shipyard's mess hall. The Captain had been remonstrated with for a time before he broke and confessed to everything he knew. Recording the session, her disgust at the pathetic Captain grew to the point she wanted to jettison him into space alive, with enough oxygen and rations to last him for as long as it would take him to die from freezing to death, but she told herself that that would be a waste of resources. Instead, she ended the bastard's life, dispatching him with a slash across his jugular with her vibro-blade, Din didn't need him anymore. Taking the "keys" off the corpse, she went to make sure that the droids were loading the Star Destroyer with everything that could be loaded onto it.
This was when she thought for a moment and sighed with supreme irritation. She knew that the crew for the Star Destroyer were exhausted and would need the rest, but she wanted to leave now. Which meant only one thing: droids. Din didn't want droids anywhere near her, but she couldn't put crew through what was needed without having them drop near dead.
It took about thirty minutes to go back to the command center for the Shipyard and another thirty minutes to give the astro-mech droids orders to be a temporary crew for the Star Destroyer. Going back to the Star Destroyer, she told the astro-mech to set a course for the second shipyard. She wanted to see if there was anything there to salvage there as well.
One her way back to the Razor Crest, she fought the yawns and knew that she would need a nap – a long one. She probably should sleep for at least five hours. According to the Captain's confession, the crew were automatically locked into their quarters and were only released when it was time for their shift and the meals. She felt safe enough for a nap. The next shipyard was about five hours away and it would depend on what she found there, the fate of that one.
[Four Hours Later]
Din's nap was solid, but she knew that she would need an actual sleep cycle soon. Two ration bars and a cup of caf was her meal as she stretched and got ready for seeing what this shipyard had. Checking the data-block that she had hooked up to her big computer, she saw it was done cleaning and downloading the information. Din would look into that when she got back. Exiting the Razor Crest, she strode to the command center and looked at the droid-crew. She didn't trust any of the things, not really, but she needed to use them.
She looked over at the console that blared an alarm. They were leaving Hyperspace in four, three, two, one… What met her eyes was a ruin. This Imperial shipyard had definitely been destroyed. There must have been no ships here at the time, there was no debris that indicated ships, but right now, she wished she was using the sensors of the Razor Crest. The Star Destroyer's sensors weren't picking anything up though. So instead of attacking or destroying another shipyard, she commanded the droids in charge of the tractor beams to salvage some pieces of the shipyard. She was beginning to have a plan for a shipyard – of a sort – for her own.
But that would take time and resources. 'Might as well take the resources from the Imps.' She thought to herself. Even if she didn't get that shipyard she was thinking about, she could maybe sell the pieces to one of those big corporations. Maybe even some of these damnable machines.
It was so irritating though; this was the third target that she didn't get to really blow up. Though this felt more like what happened to the factory than the refueling station. She decided to go back to the Razor Crest to see about the information that been taken from the shipyard's archives. It might be better on fuel if she just went to the next target that was actually there! The salvage work would take a while anyway.
It actually took about an hour and a half to salvage what could be and while that was happening, Din was looking over the information she had acquired from the shipyard. It was as recent as a month ago and dealt with everything in this parsec. It was an enlightening, if sickening read. One of the "Academies" was actually an academy that had been evacuated and abandoned about a standard year ago. The two refueling stations had been recycled and "destroyed" and the parts went the "Project Beyond". The four factories – three more than expected and known – had either been attacked and destroyed or had gone the same way as the refueling stations. There was one storage compound still active, guarded by a legion of storm troopers and the last "Academy" was on the same planet, also guarded by a legion of storm troopers. That made her frown in wonder as she made her way back to the Command Center.
Directing the droids to set a course for the "Academy", her smile made a hidden appearance, again. The "Academy" was two weeks away. The ship had enough fuel – thanks to the salvaging droids – to last the ship for a full year. That would be enough. Her Star Destroyer re-entered hyperspace and left behind the destroyed shipyard.
[Seven Hours Later]
Din saw from the surveillance cameras placed in the crew quarters, that the prisoners were waking up and getting confused. They probably hadn't slept so long in a very long time. It had been about fourteen hours by her estimation since they had been locked into their quarters. It had taken some preparation, but she had found medical supplies, much better rations than what they had been eating at the shipyard and made an actual stew for them the eat, and bodysuits in better condition than what they were wearing at the moment. Not much better, but it was the thought that counted. She had even gotten a Meditative Nap in. Though she would want a real sleep cycle soon enough.
She had disengaged the locking mechanisms for the sleeping areas and was now waiting in the gallery closer to the medical supplies than to the food. The crew, she Felt, were nervous. Then again, they had no idea that Captain and his officers had been disposed of like the trash they were and that a Mandalorian bounty hunter now controlled the ship. The first to actually into the gallery was an elderly Ugnaught.
They looked startled at the sight of her, rather stunned actually. Din tilted her head slightly and then slowly beckoned to them to come forward. "Don't be afraid," she said. A few other crew members looked around the corner to see what the Ugnaught was looking at and looked just as startled as the Ugnaught. The Ugnaught seemed to get over the fact that there was a Mandalorian in the gallery and cautiously approached. They asked in a voice that made her think the Ugnaught was female, "Who are you?"
Din looked at her and said, "I am the Commander of the Ship now. The Imps that I remonstrated with left it under my authority." She could see that the other female had read between the lines and stiffened when she pulled out the "keys" to the collars. Din hated the look of the things, pulsing like some sort of sick-heart monitoring system. She held the "key" out to the Ugnaught. All – the Ugnaught and the other crew members craning around the doorway leading to the gallery – flinched, but froze with shock when the collar fell off the Ugnaught's neck. Taking a brush with a container of bacta-gel, Din approached the Ugnaught and silently offered her the brush and container.
Just as silently, the Ugnaught took the brush and lightly put it on the marks that the collar had left in her flesh. Din was already retreating to get another container of bacta-gel, when the Ugnaught finished. She – the Ugnaught – looked over at her, before turning to the other crew members, some coming out of hiding and starting to approach. "This is a Mandalorian," she spoke calmly – with a hidden tremor in her voice – "They command this ship and us now."
It took a few minutes for all the crew to come out. In total, two-thousand people and one by one they came up to Din and she removed the collars and tossed the wretched things into a collection of crates. The bacta-gel was direly needed and some of the crew actually looked like they needed a bacta-tank – which the ship had, but not enough bacta for everyone – and it pained Din that all that was available for use were bacta-gel and bacta-wraps for now. The first – she estimated mid-thirties – human male flinched and trembled as she removed the top of his body suit and applied the wrap to the mottled ribs. Some of the others had to remove their shirts for the same reason or for whip marks on their backs. Some had to be treated for horrible burns. The others were not as recently marked, but would definitely need feeding up. They weren't as skeletal as Mona had been when Din had first seen her, but it was quite clear that some of them were needing to rest before they fell ill completely from exhaustion.
As she finished treating them, she would point to the food, waiting for them. That is what had actually taken up most of her time earlier, actually cooking enough to satisfy two-thousand starving people. She knew that they probably wouldn't be able to handle too much, but she thought a really thick stew would do the trick.
Some of them for-went treatment – only having the collar removed – and started putting the stew on plates. They were loading up two to three bowls of food and taking them to the tables. At first, Din hadn't understood then she saw some of the older ones being handed the bowls and some of the more injured being fed so as not to smear the bacta-gel on their hands and forearms.
She had looked over the files on this crew when she was making the food and gathering the medical supplies. Most of these people were part of families either sold entirely to the Empire – like the Ugnaughts – or arrested on charges like being Rebel-sympathizers. Some – a small minority – had been out and out kidnapped and held with the threat of what would happen to them if they caused trouble.
It had taken a good three hours all the crew do be de-collared and fed. Now was the time for her to make a speech. She mentally sighed, she had never done such a speech for such a large group before. But she was a Mandalorian. She would do so without looking like a complete idiot. She stood up on the table where the used medical supplies lay. The crew was silent as they all looked to her. All those eyes, trained on her.
A deep breath in and she began, "I am known as the Ghost Mandalorian," she saw some faces look surprised, "You may call me Ghost, Mando or Mandalorian. I care not. As of this moment, the Empire no longer controls you. The collars of which were on you will be taken to the incerator and destroyed." Here there were relieved looks and dawning hope.
Din continued, "There are some of you here who have young ones. Children that were taken with you. According to the files that were in the possession of your former Commander and Captain, all are still at the same Academy." Here she saw a majority of them lose the looks of relief and hope, and gain faces of dread or blank stoicism. She continued, "That is our next destination. It is a week away at our current speed. Those of you who can, are welcomed to fight, but I will not lie to you. There is a legion of Imps standing between you and your families. And on the same planet is a storage compound with another legion guarding that who will no doubt come to the aid of their Imperial comrades. That is a rough estimate of four-thousand Imps."
She could see the crew blanch with fear, but she could Feel determination and a desire to reunite with their loved ones. Din continued, her voice becoming stronger, "But this Star Destroyer is a Victory-I Class Star Destroyer. It is capable of landing on a planet. It has shielding capabilities that the Imps would need serious firepower, not blasters to even scorch the hull. It has enough firepower to blow any Tie-fighter or Imp to kingdom come. It now has two crews. You all and a droid one repurposed from the shipyard you were on. Then there is me," here the crew were looking animated and ready to take on the Empire in its entirety, all eyes were burning.
"I am a Mandalorian bounty hunter with a grudge the size of a parsec for the Empire. I have my own ship with my own weapons. I plan to take both the Academy and the Storage Compound, starting with the Academy. Will you aid me?" She asked. The crew looked almost eager, despite pain and exhaustion. Some were already nodding and none looked hesitant. Din looked out at them. "Will you all run with a Mandalorian and give the Imperials an unforgettable message?" Some were standing now, looking like their bloodlust was up and ready to tear into some Imps.
"Will you all run with me and meet your families on the other side of the battle to come? Will you tear through those between you and them?" Here a ragged cheer started, even those who looked like they were ready to drop into a coma – they were so tired – looked eager. Din silenced them with what she said next, "We have a week. A week for you to regain energy and strength. I can see you have the will. Now all you need is the weapons that will give your will tangible effects. In the week to come, you will eat, rest and heal. Together, we will plan and together, we will win." There was another ragged cheer, louder than the last. Din nodded and came down off the table. She nodded to the gallery. "One of you can ask one of the droid crew to do the dishes and help locate more medical supplies. I will be in the Razor Crest. Good rest to you all."
And with that she turned and marched out of the crew's living quarters. It would take a while to get down to the hangar where her ship was and she wanted a real sleep cycle. And one of her own meals afterwards.