(a/n): Gosh, thank you guys so much! I am so, so grateful for the kind reviews and the love I've received. My heart is so full of happiness! It truly means the world. ^_^ Thank you guys so, so much! I hope you enjoy chapter two!

I did post chapter two a few weeks ago, but it was only up for an hour, I think, and I was deeply unhappy with it, so I reworked it and now have republished it. ;)

CHAPTER TWO

THE PLAN

PLANETARY LOCATION - ZOLAN

It had been at precisely three days since Naea and D2-8A had narrowly escaped their encounter with the Mandalorian on Takodana. Let it be known these past three days have been anything but peaceful, too. Remaining perched at the helm of her (stolen) ship, Naea has spent this time in a perpetual state of wakefulness. She has gone through a handful of worlds with the use of lightspeed, calculating each one to be random and unprecise. It has had its repercussions, though, as she had spent a whole day overcome by nausea and dizziness, with her droid being wobbly and threatening to short circuit at one point. But despite everything, she had succeeded - she had been successful in eluding the Mandalorian, buying herself time.

Naea isn't entirely sure how much time they have, per say, but at least it's something. Any lesser wanted bounty would have been caught much sooner, she expects. The Mandalorian has likely faced challenging assignments before, but she intends on ensuring that the challenges only escalate. And even if her nerves start to rile inside of her, she keeps it well-hidden. D2-8A is anxious enough as is. The poor droid has been restless these last three days, keeping a fervent patrol amidst the traveling, and monitoring their scanners for any possibility of the Mandalorian being even slightly close. A truly loyal droid. Sometimes Naea wonders what she has done to deserve him.

Certainly nothing good.

It is still Naea's intention to go to Selvaris, but there are a couple of things that need to be tended to first. The Mandalorian is undoubtedly aware of what type of ship Naea has, so she means to get rid of it. She will also be getting rid of her current clothes and shoes, as the Mandalorian will be able to track her by appearance, as well as footprints; the less obvious she can make herself, the better. She needs to disappear. If the Mandalorian asks about her as she is now, then she will be needing a full disguise; disappear entirely. Some odd years ago, she would have not only forsaken the ship, but her droid, as well. D2-8A is distinct bronze BD unit with little yellow and blue stains upon his person, from a previous owner. He would give her away, above all else, but she simply cannot part with him. As much as it will cost her by way of descriptions, her droid is a sacrifice she is unwilling to make.

She recognizes this is a sentiment that may very well result in her being caught, but she has no doubts that she can just as easily escape. She's eluded far more dangerous persons before.

That being said, Naea intends on losing their current ship and general distinguishing items on Zolan. It is a warm and arid planet located in the galaxy's Mid Rim, near the Corellian Run. She has not been to Zolan for years now, but her memories of the planet are rather vague and dismal. The natural resources and beauty of the planet had been overshadowed by the Empire's influence, before the New Republic seized it back. She holds no fond memories of this place, but she knows there is a merchant located on the outer edge of the planet's city who resides within a ship junkyard. At least, he had been there years ago, managing a prolific career scamming and haggling with Rebels and Imperials and smugglers alike...but he's her best bet, regardless.

It's a gamble, but a necessary one.

As they enter the atmosphere of Zolan, Naea wills herself to focus. There is a nagging ache in the back of her head, a demanding and irritating presence that reminds her of her need to sleep. She has done a fairly good job at ignoring it, though. She pushes it back, forcing herself to find that deeper state within; where rest is an option. It won't last forever, but it will buy her time. She'll rest once they're off world, someplace far away, and having stumped the Mandalorian again.

She inhales sharply, straightening her back against the pilot's chair. Unfortunately, she's a bit out of practice.

Eyes skimming across the planet's surface, she finds it to be in fair shape. The New Republic has reinstated what the Empire sought to purge, though the remnants of the Imperial influence linger in the patches of dead forestry amidst the almost neon greenery.

The city down below is a familiar view; its general surroundings don't seem too out of place. The assortment of trees and buildings forged around them are all very much the same, and, from high above, Naea can see the telltale glimmer of ships collected together on the outer edge of the city. So, he's still there.

"I don't want you to trade it."

The corner of Naea's mouth raises amusedly. "It's either that or we destroy it. I'd much rather we make some measure of a profit off of this thing," she says, chuckling as the little droid chirps irritably to her logic, perched on the console of the ship's cockpit. She glances at him as he lowers his broad head, a discontented set of beeps and boops resounds from him. "We'll be fine, Data."

Naea has to admit it, she is going to miss this ship. It has flown well for her these last several months, posing no issues save for the occasional mechanical kinks, but those are easily resolved. It has also withstood a fair few encounters with opposing forces, as proven by the singed marks across its sides, but it has remained steadfast. It will be a shame to part with it, but no doubt they will find a ship of equal value, at least one that can get them out of the system.

The droid remains quiet the remainder of the flight. Naea considers taking her ship to the nearby docks, but decides against it; she would rather it not sit and catch attention amongst potentially questionable figures. Rather, she locates a clearing relatively large enough for the ship beside the merchant's yard. The tall trees bend to the will of the ship's power as it lowers slowly, their huge bodies swaying; the roar of the engine almost drowning out her thoughts with it.

This will be a quick transaction. Although she has never directly made dealings with the merchant before, she had been a part of a trade that had transpired years ago. It had been successful, though the merchant had been in no position to deny her associates. While she will be standing alone this time, armed with only a droid and her own forceful influence, she is aware that she will have to be damn convincing.

"Come on," Naea says, offering her arm.

D2-8A doesn't hesitate. He leaps from off of the dashboard of the console onto her arm, proceeding to climb up and rest upon her shoulder, where he nuzzles in comfortably. Naea smiles off handedly to him, before disembarking from the ship.

"So why is the Mandalorian chasing us?" the droid asks.

"He was paid to," Naea explains. "He's probably with the Guild."

"Will he kill us?"

Naea is unsure. Within her visions, she is being fired at by an unknown source, a predator chasing after her; a blurry image in her mind's eye, but present...and very dangerous. She is always running in her dreams, despite her urge to fight back. Something innate inside of her just compels her to flee instead. More than likely, the culprit behind the attacks in her visions is this Mandalorian.

She has spent the better part of these last few years running. No bounty hunters have sought her out.

So what changed?

Realizing that her droid is still patiently awaiting an answer, Naea clears her throat. "Well, I guess that all depends on whether or not I am wanted dead or alive," she explains. "Probably alive. He won't kill you, though, don't worry. If he catches me -"

"I will fight him!" D2-8A chirps determinedly, bobbing his head up and down.

Naea's brow raises to the droid's ferocity. "He doesn't stand a chance."

"You know I will protect you, right?" D2-8A asks, sounding hesitant.

"I know you will. That's my problem," Naea says, reaching up to stroke the droid's head. "If I am caught, which is unlikely, then I need you to find a way to escape. Find a mechanic's shop or some travelers. It shouldn't be hard for a droid such as yourself to find a new companion, eh?"

"But you're my friend," D2-8A says.

"I am. And, as your friend, I want you to be safe," Naea says. "Now stop talking about this. We're going to negotiate now."

Naea pushes away from her ship, approaching the ship yard question. A vast array of different styled ships lay surrounding her, some of them seemingly in good shape, whilst others are glorified sheets of scrap metal and loose wiring. Across the yard, countless sets of different droids scramble to tend to each specific ship, booping back and forth to each other, and sparing occasional glances to Naea. There are a handful of interested figures standing beside superior looking ships, some standing alone and others appearing to be negotiating between each other. Naea pays them no mind, least of all when random droids rush up to ask her about discount pricing and other sales opportunities.

It isn't until she spots a human covered in oil, leaning over the remains of a Y-wing that has seen better days, that she finally spares her attentions. "You!" she calls.

The mechanic turns, wiping his forehead. Based on his short stature and lanky limbs, Naea would wager that the mechanic is a young boy. He has a bald head splotched with oil, whilst a pair of goggles and a scarf cover over his face. His thick leather gloves reach up to his elbows, protecting his skin from the sharpened edges of the metal ships, and the sparks from the general work. His attire are deep shades of grey and brown, permanently stained. Although she cannot see his face, she can tell he does not seem pleased over having been interrupted.

Still leaning over the Y-wing with a wrench in hand, the mechanic turns back around and returns to his work. "What do you want?"

"I'm looking for the merchant," Naea says.

"Radav. You're looking for Radav," the mechanic says, glancing over her shoulder, unimpressed. "I'm afraid he's busy."

"I need to speak with him," she says. "I want to trade my ship -"

"You and everyone else here," the mechanic sighs, impatiently. "I suggest you go out there and wait your turn. Radav will be with you when he gets to you."

Naea stares at the back of the mechanic for a moment, listening to him mumble angrily to himself as his wrench works vigorously on the ship's engine. D2-8A presses his head into her shoulder, sensing his master's sparked vexation. Offering her droid a consoling little pat, Naea returns her attentions back to the mechanic and approaches him. She stands beside him, watching as he works. He tries hard to ignore her, even deliberately twisting himself so his back is facing her. But when she does not move, he straightens and throws his rags down.

"I said -"

"You misunderstood me," Naea say, inhaling deeply. Her hazel eyes narrow on the boy's covered face, her hand reaching up to wave slowly across the distance between them; she can feel the density in the air as the Force tightens around them, primarily upon him. "You will take me to Radav."

She watches as the resolve slowly melts from the mechanic's demeanor. His harshly arched back slowly starts to soften, his shoulders falling forward in an almost relaxed stance, and his own hands raise to remove the goggles and scarf from his face. He has a strangely flat nose and lips that are cracked and chipped, with wide eyes that stare back at her blankly. "I will take you to see Radav," he echoes, throwing down his wrench and rags and turning.

Naea follows after him as he leads her through the yard of ships, until they happen upon an older man in billowing yellow robes hovering over a protocol droid. Naea has never seen the merchant in person, but she does recognize him from holographs. He is not the same as he was all those years ago, which should come as no surprise. He is far older now and possesses a black patch over his left eye, whilst the other is oddly amber like a cat's. The merchant spares a glance towards the approaching mechanic and Naea in pursuit, looking vastly annoyed by the interruption, and proceeds to mutter something in a foreign language. The droid, seeming to understand, turns sharply and waddles away; the movements of its body hindered by the rust in its joints.

"I told you I was busy," Radav says to the mechanic.

"She wanted to see you," the mechanic replies.

Radav raises a thick bushy grey brow at the mechanic and waves him away. "What is it you want then, girl?" he asks, staring Naea down coldly. "I'm a very busy man, you know. Very busy. Lots of deals to make, so little time."

At the very least he is cutting to the chase. Naea has no patience for merchants with fancy words or eagerness to sell more than what is desired, especially under these circumstances. "I need a new ship, preferably small. I'd like to trade mine for it," she says. "It's a Ye-4 gunship I won in a bet. It's in moderately good shape for its age, as well, and has flown me smoothly across the galaxy for some weeks now."

"I noticed it fly over my yard," Radav admits, eyeing Naea skeptically. "If your ship is so useful, why trade it?"

"Like I said, I need a smaller ship. The upkeep is too much for one person and a BD unit," Naea explains.

"Sounds like you need a bigger crew."

"Does it look like I can afford one?"

Radav does not appear entirely convinced, as his strange amber eye takes her in slowly; flickering across her face. Finally, he sighs loudly and waves a plump hand. "Fine," he says. "Do you have registration?"

"I'm afraid I do not," Naea says. "As I said, I won it in a bet - a game of sabbac, specifically - and I doubt the person I won it from had gained that ship honestly. The ship is just outside of your yard, in that field over there. You're welcome to look through it for inspection. But I've kept it in pristine condition and I've ensured there are no loose kinks."

"Wouldn't matter, anyway," huffs the merchant with a deep snort. "Registration doesn't mean anything in these parts. I'll look your ship over and decide it's worth...droid!" He spins around, bellowing out towards the protocol droid who had positioned himself in the doorway. "Check the Ye-4 gunship out now! I will be right there!" He turns back to Naea. "Shouldn't take more than an hour to determine its shape..."

"Could I go into the city, then? I need supplies," Naea says.

"Fine," the merchant says. "No one to stop you. I said look at the ship, you useless droid! It's over there!"

Naea watches as Radav the merchant walks away from her, his robes billowing around him as he rushes towards a droid; throwing his hands upward furiously. Only once he and the droid are out of sight does Naea allow a cold look to flash across her face. Jaw tightening, she turns around and strides out of the yard, passing by various mechanics and droids alike, until she's out of the yard and advancing towards the city.

"I don't like him," D2-8A says.

"Neither do I, but it's only business," Naea assures. "Let's just get some clothes and get the hell out of here."

"Do you think we're still safe?"

"I never think we're truly safe, Data. But I think for now, we're okay."

"This feels incredibly illegal," drawls D2-8A.

Naea snorts. "Probably because it is."

Nestled between the structure of two buildings in a narrow alleyway, Naea is glancing upward towards lines of clothes that are hanging to dry in the bright afternoon day. The windows attached to the strings are currently closed, with the occupants - according to Naea's senses - being currently absent. There are no set of eyes upon her or her droid as they stand at present, and this is the easiest solution to her problem without spending any ounce of her very necessary credits...besides, the clothes above her head look comfortable and bland; hard to distinguish.

But that being said, it is still modestly high up, and there are only two available options at her disposal. On one hand, she could utilize the Force to reach for the clothes in question, tugging them down from their clips and bringing them towards her. But that is a risk all its own. If someone were to spot her, it would draw too many questions and unnecessary attentions, and she's already made a big enough risk with her little stunt at Takodana Castle. A necessary way to escape, though, she assures herself, as the voice in the back of her head quietly ridicules her for her foolishness.

"Are you going to steal their clothes?" the droid asks.

He sounds a little displeased. Despite the fact that Naea has caught her droid picking pockets before and shamelessly plucking various parts off of unsuspecting ships, he can be quite finnicky. He is, what she has affectionately dubbed him, a selective criminal. He takes great offense in such claims, under the pretense his actions usually have justifiable cause, but Naea need only remind him of the time he stole a woman's broach at a cantina simply because it was shiny. (He had a good eye, she admits, as the broach itself sold for a pretty set of credits off-world.)

Naea shakes her head. "Not me. You," she says, calmly, and smirks as the droid boops in stunned horror. "I can't reach that high."

The droid rustles against her shoulder like an annoyed bird, his hardened metal feet gripping her tightly. "I know for a fact that isn't true! You can use the pull!" he says, rustling again when she shakes her head. "How am I even supposed to reach that high?"

"You're going to climb," she replies.

The surface of the buildings' walls are covered in a vast array of vines and, in any case, the structure of them are composed of various types of stones which provide for good traction for climbing. Arguably, Naea would be able to climb this herself, but the vines could snap under her weight and even if she successfully made it upwards, she is far more noticeable than a smaller droid.

"Well...which clothes would I even get?"

Naea tilts her head up. "Those brown pants, that loose shirt there - yes, that one - and that cloak," she says. "Now don't give me that look. We're short on time as it is. So, up you go."

The droid pinches her shoulder irritably before leaping up onto the wall, grabbing a hold of the vines tightly formed across its surface. He chips indignantly once more and then proceeds to make the climb, his little body scampering upward effortlessly. Naea watches from down below, periodically glancing from side to side to ensure no set of eyes are going to find their way upon her. When D2-8A reaches the thick lining where the clothes are connected, he carefully pulls it towards himself, along with the clothes in question. She watches as he very carefully uses his little built in snippers to cut the clips, and thus allowing the clothes to fall slowly to the ground; almost caught by the light breeze.

It is here that Naea discreetly utilizes the Force, influencing the clothes to fall in her direction. She seizes them one by one, before gently ordering the droid to remain upon the wall. Ensuring that there are still no eyes upon her, Naea makes quick work of removing the outer layers of her clothing, consisting of a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a jacket overtop it, and handing them off to the droid to carefully place upon the lining overhead. The new clothes she finds are a pair of brown trousers that fit a little snugly, with an itchy texture. The beige, slightly oil stained, shirt is a little loose around her, so she knots it and adjusts the sleeves accordingly. The cloak itself is more like a poncho, with strange little needlework details upon its body, hints of colors such as yellow and purple.

A small, fond smile finds itself upon Naea's face as she brushes her fingers upon the threading, but doesn't dwell too long upon it. She pulls it over her shoulders, grateful for the hood attached to it.

"Good job. Now come here," Naea says, waving the droid to jump onto her shoulder.

"That was a rush!" trills D2-8A.

"That's my droid," Naea says. "Let's get back to the shipyard."

Feeling comforted now, Naea pats her droid affectionately and slips through the alleyway and across the city. The city itself is large and seems to be entirely one with nature, as its buildings are covered in lush flowers and vines, as well as having been built around trees. The banners of the New Republic hang loyally overhead, though she hasn't come across any New Republic militia - yet. Certainly she has no doubts that they exist somewhere within the vicinity, but she's had the good fortune of not having run into them yet. Meanwhile, the planet's occupants, primarily consisting of the planet's key species Clawdites and an array of humans, have paid her no mind. Some have spared her a glance here or there, but otherwise she has done well with blending in. All things considered, she has been fairly fortunate.

Once reaching the city, she had used a small bit of credits to buy some food for herself and some oil for her droid. She made small talk with some of the shop's staff, mostly about the overall peace the planet has seen, and the lack of Imperial presences thanks to the New Republic. She also had the opportunity to make a purchase of new shoes - some tall boots that are a little bigger than her natural foot size. She had then traded her own shoes to a peddler in exchange for a set of old, cracked goggles. Naea had taken great satisfaction in watching the old peddler walk away in her shoes, the imprints obvious against the ground.

She's covered her tracks well, as far as she is concerned. And now they go back to the shipyard.

This should throw off the Mandalorian for a little while.

Despite the fact she feels more or less comfortable having masked her trail, she still keeps her head down as she wanders through the market. In a similar fashion, her droid keeps his head low and tucked into his body, sitting like a square against her shoulders; his metal feet hooked into her. She can hear him occasionally chirp and beep with vibrant curiosity when they walk by an exotic vendor, but Naea knows what such a thing will look like. Her droid is too curious for his own good - as well as convincing, and mildly a kleptomaniac - if they happen upon something interesting, he'll want to linger. If he lingers too long, he may just pocket something. That is the last kind of attention they need right now.

Besides, they shouldn't stay long. Whilst keeping a very careful eye on her droid, Naea makes the purchases of some inexpensive rations and water, though does indulge herself in some exotic looking orange fruit; a small one. It tastes a little too sweet for her liking, but it reminds her of before, when such luxuries were readily available to her, and despite the vast array of terrible memories attached to such remembrances, she can't help but to feel a little nostalgic. It's a bittersweet flavor she can always swallow, despite how it occasionally chokes her.

Once an hour has passed, Naea decides they've dawdled long enough. It's time to go back. By this time, Radav should have concluded that her ship is in decent enough shape to trade with - sure, it has some dents, but what ship doesn't? Especially nowadays. She may not get a great ship in exchange for it, but it'll be different. And, with any luck, she can convince him to forget that he saw her. So when the Mandalorian eventually comes to this planet searching for her - make no mistake, he will track her here, even after she's gone - the merchant will have nothing to tell him.

Tossing the peels of the fruit aside to some strange rat-like creature scavenging among some old containers outside of a shop, Naea turns and ventures further through the city. The hustle of it is also yet another nostalgic reminder to her former life. Arguably, this isn't much different than before. She had traveled frequently, too. Her position demanded it. But, at least, she had something of a home to go back to, keenly someone. But that someone is long since dead and whatever remains of her home is gone; something for scavengers, like that rat, to pick apart. All she has now is the clothes on her back, the droid on her shoulder, and a ship that she will trade out again. Most likely she'll be trading it within the next week, on another planet, to keep the Mandalorian off of her trail.

Naea has to wonder who sent him. There is only a small pool of people who would know about her and even a smaller number who are still alive, so it could be anyone's guess. Naea has tried to keep track of everyone since the Empire fell. Their names, identities, the aliases they take up, and so on, but it's gotten trickier. She supposes this is a good thing, given how well she has managed to keep herself hidden. It comes as no surprise that others in similar predicaments to hers would also be good at concealing themselves, though it makes it frustrating when she's trying to figure out how to avoid someone...still, she can't think of anyone who would actively seek her out, much less find a Mandalorian. That seems like overkill.

Then again, maybe they know too much about her.

That thought causes her eyes to narrow.

If they know who she is, what she did, then that's too dangerous to be left alone. Idly, she wonders how much the Mandalorian is aware of his quarry. It would certainly be unintelligent for this nameless client to reveal too much to their bounty hunter. Likely they made up some story - though made ample certain to convey how dangerous she can be - but then again, maybe they were upfront. Either way, she doesn't like it. Whoever sent the Mandalorian after her is going to have to die, one way or another. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when.

The Mandalorian knows, obviously, her inner thoughts muse, causing her to scoff. Right. But I'm not inclined to interrogate a Mandalorian.

Despite the fact she doesn't doubt her abilities, Naea is less than inclined to admit she's rusty. While she could hypothetically take the Mandalorian on in a fight, it's been too long since she's had a proper battle. Her reflexes and prowess are still sharper than most, but she's yet to face anything quite as dangerous. She's sparred hand-to-hand with undesirable types in local cantinas or in alleyways before, but those were muggers or lowlife types; nothing to the caliber of a fully-armed Mandalorian, whose religion is based around weaponry. It's foolish to even consider...too stupid. Stupid. Yet why is she still weighing her options?

She tries to subdue these thoughts as she approaches the shipyard, but once it's in sight she stops.

She could do it. She could hypothetically take him on, maybe subdue him long enough to find out...

"Are you okay?" asks D2-8A.

Naea lifts a finger, a wordless gesture to stay quiet.

The droid chirps confusedly, yet does as he is told, tucking his head against her neck. Naea glances across the shipyard in front of her, watching the various scavengers, mechanics, and lowlife types dawdling amongst each other. It's been three days since she managed to outrun the Mandalorian on Takodana - granted, it's been exhausting and excruciating, but it's been effective. It's only a matter of time before he catches up, though. For all she knows, he could be nearing the atmosphere right now (though she hopes she has enough Force sense to be able to feel a disturbance approaching). He might be days away or hours or mere minutes. He has been sent to capture her. And she has no doubt he means to capture her dead.

She's useless dead, after all. She knows too many things. Any person who would seek her out would want to know these things, pick at her mind, and ensure that whatever she knows, whatever she's done, remains buried. Naea dead is arguably more dangerous than herself alive. This gives her some measure of hope. With this in mind, she expects the Mandalorian will go no less easy on her, but he will also be cautious. He may hurt her, but he won't do any serious damage, if it came down to a fight. But maybe it wouldn't. Maybe he'd try to get her to come quietly. That's promising on its own.

Naea swallows, feeling herself split directly down the middle.

The first half of her wants to run. It's the most sensible thing to do, to go with her initial plan once she realized she was being hunter on Takodana. Selvaris is a desolate planet. The New Republic hasn't touched it since the Empire and any occupants who still reside there aren't anything to note. It's hardly a protected place, but it would provide her enough cover to disappear for a while. She could lie low. It's still the best bet for her. But the other half of her wants to meet the Mandalorian, face him head-on, and get inside of his head to the best of her ability. Who is hunting me? Only he knows. And if he doesn't want to yield it willingly, then so be it. Naea is no stranger to interrogations, cooperative or otherwise.

Either way, she can't stay here. This planet is too heavy populated. If she were to partake in a fight with the Mandalorian, then it would strike too much attention and, possibly, casualties. The New Republic would have no choice but to come sniffing around. If they did, they could find her, and then she'd be in deeper shatko than she already is. That alone is heavily undesirable. Brow knitting together in dismay, Naea finds herself in a worse state than she was days ago, when she first ran from the Mandalorian. Her knuckles clench at her sides. She can walk into that shipyard right now, gather her new ship with her small, yet practical, amount of supplies and disappear, ensuring her tracks are covered. Or she can gather her ship and make it easy to be followed.

Kriff.

"Can I talk now?" asks D2-8A.

"Yeah, of course. Go ahead."

"You're thinking about doing something stupid, aren't you?"

Naea, despite the troubling decisions she must make, smiles. Her droid knows her too well. "I'm weighing our options."

"We're going to Selvaris."

"We could," she says. "We could hide out there, or we could face him." When her droid doesn't reply, doubtless because he thinks it is ridiculous, she elaborates. "We're being hunted for a reason. I'm being hunted. Whoever is after us clearly knows, to some caliber, who I am. I don't like that, and you shouldn't either. Obviously the Mandalorian knows who his client is. So...we could find out."

"Do you think he'd tell us?"

"Not willingly, but I can be convincing," Naea says.

The droid chirps, understanding. "What do you think?"

"I think I stand a chance. But it's your life on the line, too. What do we do?"

"I think you should do what your gut says. Or that thing you use a lot. The quiet that that..." D2-8A waves his metal leg, briefly wobbling on her shoulder.

Naea dare not say the word out loud, but she understand. The Force. Slowly, she nods, and presses forward towards the shipyard. She quiets her mind to the best of her ability, allowing her thoughts to seep out of view from herself. Every advantage and disadvantage slips right out through her fingers. Her mind, for a brief second, is blank. And with this blank canvas, she finds herself able to think clearly.

It doesn't take long to find Radav, who is sitting on a pile of old ship parts that have formulated the strange semblance of a throne. He is leaning back against the mismatched pieces of metal clumsily melded together, with one leg folded over the other. He does not notice, perhaps he does not care to pay any mind, to Naea as she crosses over the yard. His gaze is rather fixated upon a strange woman standing in front of him, wearing a fine black dress with a white, stainless cloak around her shoulders. Her dark hair hangs in curls around her shoulders. With her back turned to Naea, she cannot make out the features on the woman, but she can tell by her demeanor alone that she is posh.

She comes from money, this much anyone could tell just based on her clothes. Naea skims her surroundings, becoming keenly aware that the woman is definitely not alone. While not flanked on either side of her, rather stationed off handedly, there are two clearly altered IG-100 MagnaGuards. Naea had seen her fair share of them throughout her life, but she can tell these are not standard-designs. They glisten and shine like silver, standing tall with their metal hands behind their backs. The altercations to their persons are not obvious, but they are there. This woman must definitely be important.

Naea makes the choice to keep close, but maintains a generous distance as not to be noticed. Her head lowers, her eyes remaining fixated upon the woman's back. Through Radav's animated gestures, she can tell their conversation is a heated one. So, she strains her ears, and attempts to catch their words.

"...appreciate your protection. I have the credits. I just need more time," Radav says.

The woman chuckles. "Of course. We are anything if not generous."

"And I'm grateful - damn, am I grateful," Radav says, sparing a worried glance towards the droids. "But like I said -"

"Yes. Time. But how much?"

"Just...a week."

"That's quite generous..." the woman's voice trails away.

Naea can practically hear how Radav's heartbeat intensifies.

"Three days," he amends.

"That, Radav, is doable," the woman says.

Radav's tense shoulders visibly slacken. "Three days," he says. "I'll have your credits, Lady Qi'ra." His head turns, briefly spotting Naea as she stands sideways, feigning interest in a rock by her foot, which she fiddles with. "I -"

The woman, Qi'ra, turns to peer over her shoulder. Her heart shaped face is met with a set of pronounced cheekbones, with an odd set of pale blue eyes staring back at Naea with indifference, though there is a smooth smile upon her ruby red lips. She appears to be in her thirties and is, Naea supposes, an attractive woman. But there is something about her that stirs something deep within; a wariness, otherwise untouched. Naea averts her gaze.

"I see you have a client. I won't keep you," Qi'ra says, and spins around.

The droids instantly move to flank either side of her as she makes her way through the yard, but not before sparing an odd glance towards Naea as they cross paths. At once, Naea decides she does not like her, and to find out more about her later. Those strange, knowing eyes of hers set her on edge.

"Sorry. Business," Radav says, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll take your ship. It's not worth much, but I'll trade you my scout vessel. It's old, built just before the Clone Wars, but make no mistake, it can still fly. Unlike your piece of junk."

Naea's lip twitches. "I'll take it," she says. "Where is it?"

Radav tilts his head, his eyes taking her in slowly. "Different clothes?"

"The climate called for it," Naea replies, easily.

"I recognize that poncho."

Naea's brow arches, feeling D2-8A tense against her, and she inches closer to Radav. She has a split-second decision to make here. The quiet space she had found her mind in, her deepened state of wondering how best to deal with the Mandalorian tracking her - fight or flight - all narrows down to here and now. Whatever her decision is, it needs to be now. So, slowly, she straightens out her back and dares to meet the eyes of the man before her. He stares down at her expectantly. It is cleared based on his expression he has no intention of ratting her out. A man like him can't afford to lose business. He is simply prodding her, just as how she has thought of prodding his mind - albeit, she has far more influence, none he can fathom.

Drawing in a breath, she braces herself to be caught in the undertow, knowing full-well that she has no means of going back now. "I'll be taking that ship now," she says. "I'm going to Selvaris."

Radav scoffs. "That's a waste."

"I'm meeting a friend."

The merchant looks her over once more and shrugs, waving a hand dismissively and calling one of the mechanics over. The young, bald man helps her retrieve what few personal items she has on her ship and they bring it over to the smaller scout vessel. True enough, the thing is very, very old and, as of such, old-fashioned. But Naea does not mind. So long as it can fly and get her to Selvaris, that is the most she needs. Once her items have been gathered and the trade has been finalized, Naea quickly sets aside her personal items, including the food and water she collected, and sets herself to the cockpit of her new ship.

D2-8A perches on its console, trying to balance against the more curved structure. "Why did you tell him where we're going?"

"Because he'll tell the Mandalorian," Naea replies, calmly. "And then the Mandalorian will find us."

The droid hesitates as the old ship rumbles to life, sounding like a guttural cough. Definitely old. Once they get to Selvaris, she'll see what she can do about fixing it. Since she plans on meeting the Mandalorian there, she'll have some time to properly work on this thing. He might find her quickly or it might take a day. Either way, it's time that can be spent productively. After all, there won't be much to prepare for in meeting him...it'll all be straightforward, Force willing.

If it comes down to a fight, so be it. She only has to subdue him...that's all she needs. That's all she can do. Get the information, deal with him, and find the client looking for her.

"I have a bad feeling about this," her droid says.

Naea slowly raises the ship from the yard and towards the sky, holding her breath as they exit the atmosphere and, moments later, jump into lightspeed. "It'll be fine," she says, even as she recounts her visions of something blasting by her head, and someone chasing her dangerously close. "All we're going to do is wait. And once it's over, we'll find the client and handle him...and then we'll be safe again. But first, we deal with the Mandalorian."

(a/n): Woohoo! Chapter two, here we go! Also a light cameo from an old Star Wars fav. ;) Will we be seeing Qi'ra again? Hmmm possibly. We shall see, won't we? Hehe. Next chapter we'll be seeing Mandalorian! And possibly learning more about who hired him. It's already halfway written, so the wait shall not be long, I promise!

I love you all so much! Thank you for all of the love, you all motivate me to keep writing!

Read, review, favorite, follow, etc.! Thank you! *heart*

~REVIEW RESPONSES~

Love. Fiction .2022: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. ^_^

J-James: Aww, thank you so much! I hope that you enjoyed chapter two. :D

the. apple .seed: Haha, welcome into another one of my fanfictions! ^_^ It's a lil different than my Hunger Games trilogy, but I am very, very excited to have you along for the ride! I hope you enjoy Naea's story! :D

LargePintoBean: Is it sad that I got teary eyed? I'm an aspiring writer, so to read such a wonderful and complimentary review such as this really, really filled my soul. *heart* I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it, and I am looking forward to chapter three, which will include some Mando POV. ;)

~CASTING~

Qi'ra: Antje Traue

Radav: Ranveer Singh