"W-wait," Tesari called, struggling to keep up with Mandalorian's wide gait. Stubborn and silent, he continued across the shipyard. She noticed the Razor Crest sitting in the furthest hangar, just as Greef described it. As the Mandalorian approached his ship, the bay doors opened and he stopped at the end of the ramp. Taseri paused beside him and stared into the dark interior of his ship, a touch of excitement igniting in her chest.

With determined steps, she ascended the ramp and entered the ship, blinking as the interior lights flickered on at her movement. The cargo hold was smaller than she expected, littered with crates and supplies. It was quite dusty, and smelled of oil. To her left was a wall of various controls, and the fuel chute that indicated it was full. To her right, a sorry excuse for a bench jutted from the wall. Ahead, she found the ladder that she assumed led to the cockpit, and a closet that had a makeshift bed.

"Cozy," she commented, not quite meaning to sound sarcastic but struggling to find anything better to say. Perhaps she should take note from the Mandalorian, who continued to stay silent as he slid past her and climbed into the cockpit. Tesara stood awkwardly. She quickly stowed her duffel bag beneath the benc hbefore deciding to join him above. The engine hummed to life as she scaled the first rung. Just as she began to pull herself onto the upper floor, the Razor Crest lifted into the sky, jostling her enough to bounce her head off a metal hatch.

She groaned a stray curse and pulled herself up, rubbing a tender spot on her scalp and settling into the seat behind the co-pilot's chair. She watched through the window as Nevarro grew smaller beneath her and in just moments they faced the long, dark expanse of space.

"Going into hyperdrive. It'll take a half a day to make it that far into the outer rim," the Mandalorian informed her before shifting a lever forward and launching them into lightspeed.

"Oh, ah, okay." Tesara responded lamely, not expecting him to speak. He said nothing after that, simply stared forward at the flashing blue light waves as time ticked forward. She watched in amazement as the lights glimmered off of his helmet, sending brilliant strobes that lit the dark corners of the cockpit.

An ache blossomed in her chest as she watched him, thinking back to the last time she'd seen a Mandalorian helmet. This silver mask looked smaller than the red one she remembered. Then again, in the memory of clutching that scarlet visor, her hands were much smaller. Those of a child.

"It's been a long time since I've seen a Mandalorian," Tesara mentioned offhandedly, not quite sure why she said anything. Some part of her wanted to know more about him, and was curious about his life after the Empire's betrayal. She recalled the rumors about him, about his constant returns to Nevarro, and Tesara hoped it was for more than just the charismatic guild master. She had searched the planet lazily, inconspicuously, hoping to find some clue to the whereabouts of the remaining Mandalorians. She didn't know what she'd do if she found something, but it would have been comforting to know the remaining warriors had found safety somewhere in the galaxy. In the end, she found nothing, no sign of the tribe, until this Mandalorian arrived.

He said nothing, of course. When the silence grew intolerable for her, she'd throw out a stray comment only to be ignored.

"This is only my second time on a ship, you know."

Nothing.

"I'm pretty good with blasters though. And I can shoot just as well with my left as my right. Ambidextrous."

Silence.

"See these axes? They return to my hand when I press this button. Well, they kind of fly straight at me, but I manage to catch them most of the time."

She saw him turn to regard her waist, and the fact that she only managed to grab his attention with weapon talk was not lost on her. Even so, he just observed for a moment before turning back forward. Something slowly began to dawn on Tesari.

"Do you, uh, have any cool weapons?" She asked. It was a strange question, and she felt lame for asking, but she was testing a theory. At first she thought she was wrong, he was just being rudely silent, but then he responded by raising his left wrist and drawing her attention to a strange gadget on his vambrace.

"Flamethrower," he said, almost boastfully. Tesari grinned widely, not just at the Mandalorian's equally lame response, but at the fact that he didn't sound annoyed at all. Perhaps he wasn't ignoring her, but simply had nothing to say. To be fair, her poor attempts to start a conversation left little room for reciprocation to someone who chose their words carefully.

Excited to learn more about him, Tesari bombarded the Mandalorian with questions, mostly about his arsenal. At first he only responded curtly, but after a while his explanation of weapon physics grew more detailed and she listened with rapt attention.

"No," he answered after she asked if his fibercord whip could pull him towards targets rather than the other way around. "There's actually no withdrawal mechanism at all. I choose how much cord is released, then cut the end. From that point it's up to me to reel them in. Or reel myself up, I guess."

That was the most he'd said in the past hour, and it thrilled her to no end. No surprise that a Mandalorian would love to talk about weaponry, but he was surprisingly light in tone considering how standoffish he was on Nevarro. He seemed much more at ease here on the Razor Crest, hurtling through light speed. That was disappointing, in a way. If there truly was a Mandalorian tribe on Nevarro, he shouldn't have been so keen to escape.

"Say," Tesari began, nervous to stride into personal territory, but too curious for her own good. "I have a question. About your helmet."

He sighed. It sounded like static. "I don't take it off. Ever. End of story." He didn't sound angry, just exasperated, like he'd heard the question a thousand times before. That didn't really surprise her, considering she'd asked the question a thousand times before, to a different Mandalorian, in a different time.

"Well obviously," Tesari said, ignoring the sudden lump in her throat. "I was going to ask about polish, actually. Bolomian fat works best on Beskar, if I recall. Whatever you're using is dulling the scale."

He went absolutely rigid. Clearly angry. Most likely defensive. "My helmet is not a fashion accessory. Who cares if it's shiny?"

Tesari threw her hands up surrender. Her intention was never to rile up the Mandalorian, but for some reason she'd hit a nerve. "Sorry!" She exclaimed, attempting to smooth things over. "I just know how important the helmets are to you guys. I thought you might like a tip, that's all."

He scoffed at her. "I don't need advice from you." You're not a Mandalorian. She could practically hear what was unsaid. He was Mandalorian and she was an outsider. Mando'ade ra aruettise. The idea ignited a fire inside her that had long since burned out. The embers of anger and regret burst into an uncontrollable flame and she found herself struggling not to send words of hate at the Mandalorian in front of her. He didn't know, couldn't know, the shame that his words brought forth. Instead, she sought escape, flying out of the cockpit and past his personal quarters and sliding into the cargo hold.

Tesari took out her axes and began flinging them at the nearby wall, summoning them a moment before impact to work on her catches without damaging the ship. She did this without thought, knowing that even if she messed up and cut herself, it would be a distraction from the word that pounded through her skull, in the voice of a man long dead.

Arutti.

—

After about an hour of throwing and recalling her axes haphazardly, Tesari was exhausted. She'd trained that morning as well, back on Nevarro, and her body protested the extra exertion. By now she had compartmentalized her anger, forcing away emotions and focusing only on the feeling of the axe handle landing solidly in her palm. She refrained from trying anything new, knowing that it was more important to master the fundamentals in training so that the footwork could come out in combat. Repetition was key, and training was essential to keeping the mind focused and the body learned. That was one of the first lessons her father taught her, and it had served her well thus far. Her hand to hand combat skills, even after years of disuse, had come to her aid when it mattered most. It led to her presence here today, to her freedom.

A flicker of doubt washed over Tesari. She had won her freedom. She had. Yet a shadow of fear still hovered over her, only growing darker as they grew closer to Apollo IV. Was it sane, to return to the place she'd lived the darkest years of her life? She had escaped, not only with her life but stolen riches. She could have gone anywhere in the galaxy, reinvested her wealth to create a good life, lived carefree. The memories would be just that, memories, painful but easily replaced by moments of bliss.

Tesari heard movement behind her and she spun instantly, swinging her axe in a wide arc around her body. Silver Beskar flashed in her vision and her arm came to a dramatic stop. The Mandalorian stood much too close, his hand gripping her wrist tightly while the axe in her fingers hovered just inches from his neck. Tesari turned pale and hopped back, already beginning her sputtering apologies.

"But really," she finished, her face a little flushed. "You shouldn't sneak up on people. I could've taken your head off, you know." Stupid.

The Mandalorian tilted his head to the side. "I very much doubt that. Sorry anyway." His voice was pretty emotionless, lucky considering their earlier interaction. Tesari wondered if his apology was really for startling her, or for his earlier outburst.

"I forgive you." She said, and meant it either way. His arrival had all but eliminated the fogginess in her mind. Tesari knew her purpose. She knew why she had to come back to this forsaken place. The Mandalorian's silver plated head was the only reminder she needed of what truly mattered in this galaxy. It was a strong symbol, perhaps the strongest of them all.

"You've got good form," the Mandalorian noted. She liked that he had moved on as well, allowing their earlier awkwardness to be forgotten.

"Wanna try?" Tesari flipped the axe that was just aimed at his neck into the air, catching it by the blade between her fingers and holding the handle toward him. He grabbed it and tested its weight.

"Hold out your throwing arm." He took a moment to decide if he would, before holding it out to her. She removed the bracelet from her wrist and snapped it around his. She completely ignored how casual she was being, taking his gloved ring finger and pressing it down on the space where his thumb joined his palm. "Bend your finger like this and rotate your wrist about 30 degrees. That motion triggers the retrieval mechanic. I'd open your hand up as quickly as possible to start out. It's not particularly fast, but there's some acceleration."

He nodded in understanding and Tesari realized she'd never actually seen him in action before.

"Hey, you're not gonna chop a finger off, right? You know what you're doing?"

The jerk had the nerve to scoff at her. As she moved to the bench beside him, she kind of hoped he would get hurt. A tiny cut at least, like her first time.

But of course, he was an expert. He spent a few minutes practicing the retrieval motion, essentially tossing it safely between his hands. When he felt more confident, he began tossing it upward at a weak angle, still practicing with retrieval, but using gravity to ease the acceleration. Only after an hour or more did he try throwing the axe, but when he did it flew far and true, zipping back perfectly into his awaiting hands just before it pierced the bay's far hull.

"How much?" He asked, finally turning toward her.

Tesari snapped her agape jaw closed and shot him a glare. "They're not for sale!"

He just shrugged and returned the weapon and bracelet. If he was disappointed, she couldn't tell.

"Actually, I have something else to give you. It was going to be a bargaining chip, if you refused to take my mission. Now I guess you can consider it a down payment."

The Mandalorian tilted his head curiously. "I've got to check on the ship. Bring it upstairs, there's better light anyway." She didn't get a chance to respond before he was already climbing the ladder.

Tesari took a moment to gather her thoughts. Hanging out and watching the Mandalorian play with her axe was fun, but things were about to take a turn for the serious. He would have questions, and she should decide now whether she would respond with the truth. Though they'd only just met, Tesari couldn't help but feel a kinship with him he could hardly reciprocate. She just wasn't ready to share details about her past, especially with a Mandalorian. Vagaries, then.

She removed the red Beskar pauldron from her duffel bag and held it to her chest and she ascended that ladder. At the top, the Mandalorian was fiddling with switches and paid her interest no mind. She sat in the backseat and waited, anxiety churning in her gut. After finishing his inspections, the Mandalorian finally sat back and swiveled his chair. Surprisingly, he was relaxed when he looked at her face. She could see his visor trail down and Tesari knew when she saw his back go stiff that he realized what she carried.

Tesari offered it to him: a peace offering. A gift, really. And he took it as such, cradling the Beskar gently as he pulled it from her and into his lap. He examined it for a long while, turning it in his hands preciously. His hand caressed the outer side of the pauldron and he murmured something to himself.

"Pardon?"

"Bolomian fat. You have cared for it well. Who?" The question was asked before, at the cantina, but that was in front of prying eyes. They both knew she would tell the truth now.

Tesara' s eyes suddenly stung. She had to clear her throat before she could continue. The truth, but maybe not all of it. "His name was Adono."

"You knew him?"

"Yes," she responded simply. The Mandalorian continued to rub his thumb along the immaculate steel.

"I'm sorry." No voice modulator could hide that sincerity. It moved Tesari in a way she couldn't put to words.

"It-it won't fit you, but maybe you can find someone to work it into something better. That, and the rest of the armor. Mikels Maad should never have put his filthy hands on it. Adono would have wanted his suit returned to his people. I've looked, but you're the only Mandalorian I managed to find." There was both a question and an accusation rolled into the statement, but he responded to neither. In fact, he did not respond at all for a long while.

Finally, the Mandalorian laid the pauldron in the copilot's seat. "You should get some rest. I'll wake you before we exit hyperdrive." It was only then that Tesari realized her head was bobbing toward her chest, and it was a long moment before she could remember her last coherent thought. She nodded and made for the cargo bay, hoping the bench below felt anything like her bed back on Nevarro.

—-

It didn't. When she woke, Tesari felt less rested than before her brief nap. The Mandalorian had paged her to come up over the comms and she was thankful she wouldn't have to wrestle with shit sleep any longer.

"What's the plan?" Tesara asked, moving forward to the copilot seat. She gingerly picked up the red pauldron that still lay there, clutching it in her lap as she stared at the lightspeed waves shooting past. The Mandalorian was fiddling with controls, indicating the descent from hyperdrive was near.

"I go in, eliminate the target, and secure the area. You wait here until I radio, then quickly come retrieve the item and my Beskar." The plan was delivered with certainty.

"Yeah, I don't think so. I can't risk the target escaping with knowledge of the item or the armor's location. We may need to interrogate him for more information." Tesari bit her lip anxiously.

"That wasn't part of the briefing."

"If I recall, I'm the client, and I do the briefing. I can't risk failing this mission so you can play the lone warrior act. You need my intel."

He tensed, prepared to argue, but the console flashed urgently at him and had no choice but to release his annoyance with an exasperated sigh. With a couple button taps and switch flips, they exited lightspeed, coming to a slow with a stomach churning groan. A grey moon hung the space ahead of them, tiny compared to the massive gas planet it circled. Even from this distance, Tesara could see the golden spire of Maad's palace jutting from the moon's north axis. The Mandalorian saw it too.

"Tell me what I need to know."

"Mikels Maad was an Imperial spy. They stationed him on Apollo IV to mine gatsbii, a weak but malleable metal that the Empire used for aesthetic purposes. His whole base is coated in the stuff. After the war, he took to slaving, starting with his workers and eventually working his way to the nearby planets." She jutted her chin at a faraway body that the Mandalorian could vaguely tell was green. "That's New Ghetti. As unnotable as it gets. Maad and his band of Imperial deserters snatch up girls to sell and boys to break from there."

"Sounds like a nice guy."

Tesara threw him a withering glare.

"He'll have a dozen guards or so, Imperial deserters that found new lives with this asshole. Just enough to keep the young or elderly slaves in check. The rest will be in the mines, lording over the able bodied. He won't expect anyone to attack his compound. My item will be near or with the Beskar, which is probably on display, but if he gets a whiff we're coming he'll lock it up tight."

The Mandalorian stared at the moon. She had no idea what he was thinking. Tesari wondered if he was disappointed there would be no shootout.

"Hmm." Was the only response she received, and she was starting to get annoyed. The Razor Crest began its descent, pulling up on the moon many clicks away from Maad's glittering beacon. The Mandalorian slid the ship into a graceful landing on an unremarkable stone outcropping. The engines powered down and the lack of mechanical hum made his silence unbearable.

"Well?" Tesara huffed.

"Well, we've got about half a day's walk ahead of us. I recommend we get started."

He was away from his seat and exiting the cockpit before she could respond. Tesara clambered after him, following closely as he exited the ship and began the long trek across the gray moon. She'd placed the red Beskar in the pilot's seat to await his return.

"And the plan?" She insisted when she found a steady pace at the Mandalorian's side.

"We'll see as it goes. If I can lockdown the area, it won't matter if he sees us coming. Most likely I'll just shoot my way through."

Tesara scoffed, then scowled when she realized he was serious. As if the uptight man would make a joke. Was he not listening?

"You better hope that works. And I expect some part of the plan involves protecting me as well, yeah? That was kind of the goal in hiring someone from a mythical warrior race."

Only a slight tilt of his head indicated he was looking at her. The moon had a low gravitational pull and a thin atmosphere, enough to rouse a bit of a breeze. The Mandalorian's cape billowed around him and the distant sun's white light made his silver helmet almost glow. Tesara tried not to admit, even to herself, that he looked pretty cool.

"Figured you'd be able to handle yourself," he said, surprisingly lightly. "Ambidextrous and all."

Hah, so he did have jokes.