Spoils of War

Episode VIII: Lessons

Repulsors thundered overhead as the ship slowly descended to Nevarro's surface. Tala took a step or two back out of the looming shadow, shielding her eyes when she was once again in the blinding noon sun. Romy's Corellian freighter finished landing and settled onto the flat rocky ground, then outgassed and groaned as the engines cut off. The ramp began to lower and Tala wet her lips in anticipation, hovering in place as her nerves teemed.

It seemed to take forever until Romy came sauntering down the ramp with R5 trailing behind. Tala's expectancy intensified at the sight of a slim, book-sized paper envelope under the smuggler's arm. Looking dapper and strong as always, Romy extended the envelope to Tala as she reached the end of the ramp and raised her flight goggles up, letting them clap to her coiled hairline. "Here you go, newbie. The very mysterious package you paid me to bring halfway across the galaxy." She studied Tala's apprehensive reaction to the item with interest and a hint of concern. "What's in there, anyway?"

Tala's eyes snapped up. R5 toddled by, belching bleeps. Romy had proven to be a good friend in the past few months. But some things didn't feel safe to say. Thankfully, her notable silence was interjected by the abrupt sound of liquid spraying. Both women looked: R5 was outletting built-up oil (a shiny, gooey sludge) just a few paces away. Romy was immediately dismayed. "Five, do you really have to do that so close?!" She put her hands on her hips and exhaled hard, shaking her head as she looked to Tala wanly. "No manners. None."

Glad for the change of subject, Tala chuckled uneasily and eyed Romy's ship while she bent the envelope and crammed it deep into a large coverall pocket where it could stay hidden. "How's that catalytic thrust installation working out for you, by the way?"

Eyeing Tala with pleasant knowing, Romy didn't bring up the unanswered question. "Haven't had any more problems with the launch sequence. But I'm sure I'll be back soon to see you whenever the next thing starts falling off." She winked.

"Job security," Tala joked—which was usually Kizzo's line. Backing up with a friendly smile, she made her exit. "Thanks for the delivery, Romy! I've gotta get back to the shop." Romy saluted jokingly and then went to go complain at R5.

Tala's face lost expression as she turned and headed back toward town with racing thoughts, weaving through a few closely disembarked, silent ships. In the pocket where she'd shoved it, the envelope practically burned. The more she thought about opening it, the more her stomach churned.

Nearby, a cluster of townspeople circled a gleaming luxury Solar Sailer—a rare sighting in quiet out-of-the-way places like Nevarro. Appreciative comments drifted and as Tala passed, a member of the crowd happened to glance over, locking eyes by chance. It was Greef Karga, whose gaze narrowed hard in an unmistakable expression: recognition. Stomach flipping in panic, her pulse rocketed and hammered so hard it felt like she was being pummeled, Tala kept going, trying to act like nothing was wrong. But with every carefully timed step she took, she was more and more convinced that she had just been caught.

Thoroughly rattled, the anxiety only persisted and intensified as Tala went about her day. It left her so edgy that she felt sick. She skipped lunch, installed an entire panel of cooling coils backward, and couldn't focus. It was a lot: the envelope and Greef recognizing her… both on the same day. As she felt more and more pressure mounting throughout the hours, she began to question if he had recognized her. It might be paranoia. Right?

Ever since arriving here, she'd been so careful to avoid Karga and anyone else who she had been able to identify as a potential risk to her security. She never went into the cantina, she wore a blast helmet around town half the time, and she always kept an eye out for anyone who looked Guild-affiliated.

Now it was all over. She could already picture it: Greef striding in here with twenty armed men demanding that the girl who had cost his guild a fortune be either sent to her father for the money owed or punished for her crime of kriffing his financials up. The entire debacle left one thought standing: Nevarro had been a terrible choice in place to settle.

I should leave. I have enough credits to last a few weeks at least, and skills I didn't have a few months back. It would be safer to cut and run while I still can…

… But I love it here. I really do. I have a home of my own, even if it's meager. I have the sparring club. I have a job and freedom. I've even made some friends, sort of. And Din. He's here.

Her chest pulled. That last part probably shouldn't matter. But it did. Around and around the thoughts went, creating mayhem in her mind and tightness in her body. She'd have to make a decision about this soon.

But what if Karga didn't recognize you and you're overreacting?

That thought drove her craziest. Deep in her chaotic focus, Tala's senses dulled and she robotically went through her tasks in the shop, at one point straightening with a box of various-sized hydrospanners to carry them across the converted hangar. She turned around and barely managed to turn a would-be scream into a very loud gasp as she dropped the box and several of the tools clattered loudly to the rough shop floor. Why? Because right in front of her, a silent and familiar Mandalorian stood.

Her reaction to his appearance had caught him off guard. "… Everything all right?" The increasingly familiar husky voice was cautious. Maybe even a little concerned.

"Fine!" Tala squeaked, fully flustered by her clumsiness, his sudden reappearance, and her stress. "You just, you startled me." She squatted and scooped the tools back into the box while shaking from adrenaline before shoving it onto a shelf and giving Din an expectant, possibly rude look. Why was he here, anyway? And at a time like this, especially?

"I stopped by to ask if you're free tonight." At the look on her face, he clarified. "The bike lesson. Did you forget?"

Bike lesson. Tala stood there blankly, embarrassed and skittish. "No, just—I, I got to thinking about it and thought maybe you were just saying stuff." A day or two after he'd offered, she'd managed to fully convince herself that it had just been a polite but insincere proposition.

His pause convinced her that he was giving her quite the doubtful look. "I'm a Mandalorian. I don't just… say stuff."

Tala made a face. Right he was. She glanced at the shop chrono, her nervy mind firing on half-cylinder. "Well, I'm off in two hours…"

Din nodded once. "See you then. Let's meet outside the city gate." He turned and began to leave the shop without anything further.

Surprised at the sudden plans she'd foggily agreed to, Tala almost stopped him and made an excuse. She felt choppy and mentally disconnected. Every instinct said to hide herself away. But her mouth stayed closed and she watched the Mandalorian disappear out into the sunwashed stone street.

With a gigantic sigh, Tala told her frazzled mind to calm down, hang on, and dig in. No excuses, no hiding. Every opportunity to learn something that gave her more skill should always be taken. It didn't matter how tired or freaked out she was. Esha's words repeated in her mind, a mantra Tala returned to more and more the older she got: Kill your tears. Calm your mind. Focus on your survival. Nothing else can matter.

That Evening
The Northern Plains

In the straining light of day, a Skybird zoomed toward the northern mountain ranges, leaving a line of churning dust in its wake across the plain. As the terrain began to incline upward, the swoop bike still maintained breakneck speed. Anyone close enough would have heard the woman piloting laughing gleefully and a Mandalorian mumbling curses under his breath as he hung on and questioned his life choices.

Once they reached the summit of the low mountain range, the bike jerked to a halt with a spray of dusty rubble and Tala jumped off, looking nothing like she had earlier when they'd begun the lesson (sullen, dodgy, distracted, tense). Instead, she was rosy-cheeked and grinning, windblown. Din experienced a mood shift the second he saw her face. He'd never seen her smiling like that. Carefree. Wild abandon. No worries or fears. She had little dimples, and her eyes sparkled.

"Amazing! Unbelievable! That was so fun!" she gushed, exhilarated to the point that it was like she had become an entirely different person. "Wow. I should have tried that ages ago! I've had this thing ready to go for two months!" Her enthusiasm was poignantly sweet. A glimpse at who she might have been without childhood trauma and lingering obstacles to peace: a free-spirited adventurer. She aimed her grin at Din with hands on her hips as he climbed off the rocking bike. "Din! Come on! Don't you ever get excited?!"

Shaking his head at her in something like exasperated fondness, Din was honest. "Not really."

Too elated to be bothered by his blandness, Tala rolled her eyes in good nature then grinned and set off toward the highest point of the summit. Din trudged after. She was a pretty quick study—and had herself a little too much fun at his expense once she got confident. He was still a little dizzy from all the loop-de-loops she'd covered the plains with before zooming up to this height. But at least the situation hadn't ended with either of them puking on each other's boots.

Breathless at the mountain peak, Tala looked like she'd never seen anything so incredible. Din joined her in taking in the vista. From where they stood on the low mountain, they could see the light gray rock plains below sprawling into the more textured, dark part of the planet. Nevarro could be seen in the distance, nestled beneath a larger range. Smoke rose here and there. The approaching sunset cast everything in soft, warm pastels. "Look how far we can see," Tala breathed, earnestly captivated by the mediocre view. "It's so beautiful."

Din chuckled lowly and folded his arms. It was beautiful for Nevarro sure, but for someone who'd been all over? "It's all right."

Tala glanced over. "You've probably seen it all, huh?" She sounded wistful, like she'd like to see it too.

"Nowhere even close, but I can tell you this much: Nevarro isn't exactly memorable in the grand scheme of things."

Another considering look came his way, then some of her playful side. "Well. Someday I'll find out for myself if that's true or not."

He hoped she did, but also experienced a pang of an unnamable something at the thought of her being somewhere out there instead of right here. "Good," he said, hoping she couldn't hear the conflict in his voice.

For a moment, the pair was quiet. Tala's high spirits steadily calmed and quieted, and when she spoke up again, he heard troubles in her voice. "You were right about something being wrong with me earlier," she admitted, which immediately drew his attention. Yes. He'd known something was off. She hesitated several times before telling him. "I saw Greef Karga today. He recognized me, or I'm pretty sure he did, anyway." A surge of uneasiness came over Din. "I wanted to ask you how worried I should be."

Quiet, Din's mind arrived at one conclusion as he considered the implications. He peered at Nevarro in the distance doggedly. "I'll find out."

Tala immediately was reluctant. "No, no—you don't have to do all that."

"It's my job."

She took a turn for resentful at his blunt reply. "Your job? Why? Because of our… situation?" She got very awkward when she got to the word 'situation.'

He felt awkward too and looked away from her to avoid her intense stare. "Call it what it is. Marriage isn't a bad word."

She withered, then got mad. "We're not married. You don't own me—I'm not yours."

Din turned his helm to her. "Never said I did or that you were."

"Then why is it 'your job'?" she challenged.

He sighed. It was hard to explain without further angering her, but essentially, she was his responsibility in the eyes of the Mandalorian code—and that loyalty was until death. He didn't think she'd understand. "When I said I would honor my Creed, I meant it."

This indeed soured her. "… Is that why you're giving me bike lessons?" she asked, voice hard. "Some kind of… 'spousal duty'?"

Din crossed his arms, turning to squarely face her accusations. "I'm giving you bike lessons because we're friends."

Tala lost her fire. "Oh." Then a quizzical frown bloomed. "… Since when are we friends?"

He hesitated. "Aren't we?"

A quick gallery of emotions ran over Tala's face: surprise, deliberation, then realization and agreement. "Yeah. Friends. Okay. Yeah." Then she scoffed, laughing weakly as she finished laying the scenario out: "Friends that are accidentally married—from a certain point of view, depending on who you ask."

Din looked off, turning his body to the view again. "That does sum it up." He wished they could stop talking about this.

She must have been thinking the same thing. "Whatever," she muttered huffily. "Anyway. You think Karga will say anything to anyone?"

The odds weren't in their favor because if Din knew one thing, it was that Greef was fond of bloviation and hearsay. "He likes to talk," he muttered flatly. "Like I said: I'll find out."

Uneasy at his side, Tala shifted her weight between two feet and nodded with a tense jaw as she frowned at the vista unseeingly. "Okay."

Din reached out and put a hand against her shoulder to stop the jitters. She went still, turned her head to him, and her eyes looked straight into his, guarded and uncertain. It unnerved him for a beat, the brief way it felt like she could actually see him. "Don't decide it's a problem until it becomes a problem," he advised.

A scuttling sound down by the bike caused them to whirl in sync. A furry fire rat stood on hind legs attempting to chew low-hanging wires on the bike's underbelly. "Hey!" Tala yelled. She whipped her blaster out and attempted to fire a scare-shot, but the blaster jammed, and she yelled in frustration and smacked at it a couple times then hurled her weapon at the rat, who dashed off with a cry. Tala marched over then scooped her firearm up disdainfully, shaking it and cursing it.

"That blaster of yours is a dud," Din commented, sauntering at his leisure as he wondered what ever happened to her original firearm.

Tala gave him a colorful look for his obvious comment, then exhaled with exasperation, aimed the blaster at the ground, and fired. This time, a laser whizzed out and plunked into the ground, leaving a singed, scorched circle of gravel smoking. "Piece of druk," she complained, then shoved her unreliable weapon into the holster irritably. "Here I was worried the Stryker blaster would identify me when the whole time, my face did the job." Tala shook her head stormily, clearly missing her original firearm as she eyed Din's helm fleetingly. "Maybe helmet life is for me."

The statement was surely a joke, but Din found himself considering what it might be like if that actually somehow happened. Stilled, his voice went soft. "It could be."

A strange look came his way. Her guard was back up. "I was just kidding around."

Din nodded, dropping it. He shouldn't have said that. "Let's head in."

He made for the Skybird and swung on first, causing Tala to pause. "You're not gonna let me take us back?" It seemed to amuse her.

Din started the engine, which roared then purred. "Not on your life."

Her smile faded the moment it visibly clicked in her brain that she'd be the one sitting behind and holding on. Hiding her misgivings, she climbed aboard. The bike rocked as she shifted then gingerly held onto his middle from behind with hesitant arms—a touch from anyone else he would have barely noticed. From her, every sense he possessed focused on it. As she settled close, he had to distract himself. Gunning the engine loudly, he pivoted the bike with a boot on the ground, then took off. Tala's arms tightened and he heard an approving chortle in the base of her throat. Wondering something, he went faster and faster, telling her, "Hold on."

They hit the plain at full throttle and Tala shrieked laughter with abandon as they raced even faster than she'd dared, turning into a streak of motion. Her arms and legs clamped around him and she pressed her cheek into the back of his shoulder when the wind began to sting. Her weight against his back, her hands holding onto him tight… Din would think about this moment for years to come.

The town was soft orange in sunset light by the time they reached Tala's residence. She chained the bike in the alley adjacent to the stairs to her rooftop and they said their goodbyes. In the oncoming twilight, Din turned his sights onto what needed to be done next.

Later That Night

Greef bumbled into his apartment, pleasantly drunk and enjoying himself—but the second the door whooshed closed behind him and he switched the house lighting on, he knocked backward into his minibar. The Mandalorian! "H-how'd you get in here?!" he sputtered, groping around for his weapon. It was a futile attempt. He tried the wrong hip first, then got the correct one and gave up—if Mando wanted him dead, he already would be.

The bounty hunter advanced on him. "Do you know why I'm here?"

Greef laughed sloppily because even in his stupor, it alighted on him with a click. "Ah-ha. Ahhh, haaa! I thought that was her," he said, his words syrupy from spirits. "And you being here confirms it." His brief mirth transformed into inebriated anger. "Now just why the hell would you bring Tala Stryker here, Mando?!" He waggled his finger at him sloppily. "If Leon finds out—"

The Mandalorian grabbed his finger hard, stilling Greef. "He won't if no one says anything—which is why I need to know you can keep her identity to yourself." He yanked Greef closer by the finger.

"Well yes, of course," a sweating Greef readily agreed, relieved when the Mandalorian let his digit free. And then he remembered that he might have already let it slip. Thanks to his inebriated state, he couldn't stop himself from blabbing about it. "But—well, here's the thing: I, I, I… may have mentioned that I thought maybe I saw her to another guild member earlier tonight—" Greef was suddenly shoved into the nearby wall. Items from the mini bar went crashing and rolling as the silent, helmeted face of a very deadly warrior loomed so close that Greef's nose almost touched the smooth surface. "But I said might have seen!" he protested. "And maybe thought it was her!"

The Mandalorian's gloves creaked as his fingers tightened around the bondsman's shirt. "Who'd you tell?"

"Maxie Mon!" Greef answered truthfully, quickly adding on: "He probably already forgot, Mando! You know how it is—we're talking shop late at night, both of us are drinking… it's nothing serious, just gossip!"

The Mandalorian lingered in Greef's space threateningly. "If anything happens to her, this is on your head." Greef remained silent and uneasy, nodding once or twice. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell was going on between the Mandalorian and the girl he'd rescued instead of turned in. Keeping his mouth shut, Greef endured another shove from the Mandalorian, who afterward left out the front door without another word.

That same night on Tala's rooftop, a wide and low old metal bucket served as a fire pit. In it, a small blaze crackled that would begin to burn low within the next hour or so. Maybe then she would finally find it within herself to sleep. What a day of opposites it had been: the bike lesson so invigorating and thrilling, while her worries about Greef so pitting. She wondered if Din would find anything out, then pushed it out of her mind so she didn't obsess.

Satisfied that the fire was properly stoked, Tala set down the metal arm she had used and stood from her crouch, eyeing her roof with a scanning glance. After nearly four months here, this little space really did finally feel like home.

The rooftop was a rectangular pale stone space enclosed on all sides by a half-wall to prevent one from walking off the building's edge. A rough stone stairway along the alley-side wall provided access to and from the street level. The roof boasted two major elements: in the far corner, the apartment itself (more accurately described as a large shed), and more centrally there was a hemispherical stone air vent linked to the shop below. This dome was such a size that it provided three hundred and sixty degrees of seating thanks to the raised stone lip circling its edge. Tala had set a few potted plants along half of the ledge, leaving the other half free to sit on.

The roof had been barren and trashed when Tala first arrived, but through hard work and a series of thrifted personal and practical touches, the space now felt complete and cozy: a faded patterned rug on the ground, a clothesline strung at an angle, some raised planter beds with herbs and flowers, her spare boots sitting beside the metal doorway to her apartment, and beside those a funny statuette of a surprised Wookie holding a wind instrument she'd found at a rummage sale.

The city gate was a stone's throw away, the cantina across the wide street below, and the mountains somewhere north in the darkness. Tala looked that way despite being unable to see. Standing on that point today had been blissfully triumphant in the most surprising and brief way. The bike ride back stood out too. Holding onto Din's middle. Something about even the smallest instance of making contact with un-armored parts of his body had felt utterly scandalous, and for whatever reason she was still thinking about it now. Tala shook her head, marginally embarrassed at herself. These were silly thoughts of an inexperienced girl.

Her gaze went to stare apprehensively at the quiet, unmoving object where it lay in the same place she'd put it hours ago: the envelope, on the wooden chair beside some of her flower planters. There it waited, smoothed and unlabeled, torturing her. Inside of it, information she needed to know yet feared to read: the locations and statuses of all five of her sisters, the last of whom had been married off when Tala was fifteen. The eldest two she could barely even remember; she'd lost them at an age so young.

Tala bit at a fingernail for a moment, driving herself crazy. What was she thinking? What could she actually do with this information? What if she read the files and discovered one or more of her sisters were dead? What if she read the files and found herself too cowardly to take action? The thought made her feel queasy. She'd been feeling bold and empowered the day she sent off via the HoloNet for this information under Romy's name. Now, she felt stupid and naïve. Powerless and ineffective. But as the only escaped Stryker daughter, she felt like she had to do something.

A soft sound startled her, drawing her attention to the top of the stairs. She strained, listening. Someone was climbing them. With a racing pulse, Tala silently slipped her blaster out, prayed it would actually work, then positioned herself to open fire from cover behind the dome. And then she exhaled cantankerously and shook her head when her visitor's shiny silver head became visible. Din. His smirk at her defensive position was audible. "Good."

"Good?" she repeated grumpily, standing then crossing to meet him at the top of the stairs. "I almost shot you!"

"The way that thing jams, I doubt it." He got quite a look for that one. But he was right. He hesitated then cleared his throat, reached for his belt, and produced a beautiful piece of weaponry: a sleek gunmetal and wood-handle IB-94 blaster that looked practically identical to the one holstered on his hip. He held it out like he was giving it to her, which really confused her. "For you."

Wait. He was?! Tala's eyes bulged as her brain locked up. Immediately, she attempted to reject the gesture. "For m—? What? No, no, I couldn't possibly—"

"Take it." He was firm. "I'll feel better if I know you have a sidearm that actually works."

A shimmer of a feeling she couldn't name ran through her, and Tala vacillated. Was he trying to buy her affections or loyalty with these gestures? Were his people urging him to woo her so they could count another Mandalorian in their ranks sooner rather than later? She didn't trust his intentions. "Is this part of you 'honoring your Creed'?" She would not take the very nice and tempting weapon if this were some sort of calculated move to lay some claim to her.

His answer softened her. "It's looking out for a friend."

This was the second time that same day he'd characterized them as such. Friends. Tala had grown up around manipulators and smooth talkers and liars. Din was none of the above. She knew that much. Therefore… she had to believe him, or try to anyway. So, she cautiously allowed herself to accept his gesture, even though it made her feel uneasy and indebted. "Thank you." She took it carefully, appreciating the solid weight, sleek detailing, and practicality. "It's beautiful," she breathed, never having been able to study one of these up close.

"Take good care of her."

Abruptly convicted that his gesture needed one in return, even if it was inadequate, Tala wracked her brain and came up with only one idea: "Would you like some tea?"

Convinced he'd say no, Tala was close to shocked by his off-the-cuff answer. "Sure."

"Oh. Great!" Under abrupt self-imposed pressure to perform and impress, Tala got slightly overwhelmed. "Just… give me a minute, will you?" She holstered her new firearm and took the old one into her apartment, leaving the doorway open behind her. It was too small to invite someone in. There was barely enough space to take five steps in. Floor-to-ceiling storage and shelving and gadgets crowded every wall, and they were half-filled with belongings now—all thrifted of course. Even the teeny fresher door had built-in storage panels and cubbies. Above the tiny kitchenette, a small bed bunked. And that was about all there was to the place.

"Nice armor."

A cup clattered as Tala looked over and saw Din leaning in the doorway casually. He'd spotted her Stormtrooper armor neatly stored on one of the shelves. She sent him a conspiratorial smile that was half stress "Thanks." It made her edgy to see him standing in her doorway, but not in a completely bad way. Fortunately, he didn't linger there long and distract her. When she next looked, he'd disappeared.

Tala finished making the tea and took two steaming mugs out, finding that Din had sat himself on the lip of the stone dome, and she found the sight sort of surreal. Tala handed him a mug and a small, thin metal tube, by which he was given pause. "… A straw?" he asked after he turned it over in his hand.

Tala decided to just be honest, even though she thought it made her seem a little too eager. "Saw it at the Exchange. Thought it might come in handy for a friend of mine someday."

He gave an awkward pause. "Very thoughtful." He pressed some unseen button under the rim of his helmet, and after a de-pressuring sound, he guided the straw in under his helmet and sipped.

Tala was immediately tickled by the sight of this fierce warrior primly sipping tea through a straw, and a soft laugh escaped. "It's funnier than I pictured it would be," she explained at his questioning silence. "And it was already funny in my head." An even funnier idea came to mind and feeling impulsive, Tala plucked a small yellow bloom from a flower planter nearby and set it on his shoulder in the folds of his cape, near where a pin might normally go. The sight was more comical than Tala had anticipated, and she smothered a laugh. "It brings out your eyes."

With thumb and forefinger, Din plucked the flower off, looked at it, looked at Tala, then tucked the little bloom into his utility belt pouch. Tala was immediately mystified, wondering what he was going to do with it—if anything. "Did you drop that?" he asked, nodding to the item Tala had forgotten about and got flustered over as soon as she realized. The envelope, on the chair.

"Oh! Yes. Thanks." She rose, put it into her pocket, then debated where to sit nervously and ended up sitting beside Din at arm's length. Abruptly, awkwardness slammed down and paralyzed her mind. All she had was a steaming mug of tea and copious unpreparedness for pleasantries, or whatever else Din expected. Why did he agree to tea, anyway?

"I went to see Greef," he said as if he heard her thought. "And you were right. He did recognize you." Tala's chest caught. "But he won't say anything about it."

Just like that? She wanted to question him for more details, but she bit her tongue. Still very confused by his kindness, Tala was humbled, releasing a breath that let her hypervigilant muscles relax a bit. "Thank you," she murmured. If she could have seen his face, she would have seen a guilty look about his half-truth. "That's a relief," she concluded, a hand to her head as she laughed her jangled nerves off. Still. "What a mess. This entire thing. A mess."

Din sipped at his tea, sounding distracted. "That's life."

Tala agreed in a murmur. "Apparently." It was hard not to smile at the sight of the hardnosed warrior indulging in tea through a straw. Having him in her living space felt more intimate and personal than she guessed it'd be. It made her reflect on how a secret group of people living underneath their feet recognized the two of them as spouses. Such a bizarre thought and confusing situation. While earlier today she'd been almost hostile when the topic came up, she was beginning to feel ready to indulge some of her lingering questions. Since Din tended to be come-and-go so much of the time, Tala decided to just ask now while she could. "While you're here… I've been wanting to ask you more about our situation," she ventured nervously. "If that's all right."

His attention came her way, and his tone was indecipherable. "What about it?"

"Well." Tala tried to sound casual. "What does marriage mean in the Mandalorian culture?"

Din studied her, then set his cup down. With a glance at it, Tala could see he'd already finished it. She sipped hers, trying to catch up. "Two people choosing each other. Oneness. Family. Loyalty." In his pause, Tala tried to imagine such an arrangement existing. Where she came from, oneness was forced. Family was not something she understood the way others did. And loyalty? She had observed more self-loyalty than any other kind. "Our particular situation is unique," Din ended up reflecting. "It… doesn't exactly fit the Mandalorian considerations."

Tala was nervous about how it would reflect on her to ask this. "Then what does marriage mean to you?"

He was caught off guard. She could hear it in his voice and see it in the way he postured. "I… never thought about it much." So, he did now. And after a long pause, he came back with three alluring words. "Partnership. Trust." The last one, his voice broke softly on: "Love." Tala was transfixed by his quiet tone. "My… parents. They loved each other. I remember that most clearly."

Tala felt starstruck. "… They loved each other?" she murmured, so captivated by this thought that she set her tea down. She had never known anyone married for love. She immediately wanted to know everything about such a relationship.

"Yes," he confirmed.

His tone gave her pause and made her remember about his mother. She asked for more information without directly asking: "… You sound sad."

"They died in the wars."

Tala nodded somberly, understanding a little bit more about her mysterious friend. "I'm so sorry." She tried to think of what else to say. She might hate her father and have never known her mother, but she'd loved and lost. She knew how world-ending it felt. "How old were you?"

"Just a boy."

Compassion welled at the thought of it, and quick math left her with one conclusion. "You must be somewhere around my age then."

"I'm twenty-three."

Younger than she'd imagined. Interesting how these small pieces of information made her feel closer to him. More aligned. More alike. She wanted to know more about him—and his parents who had loved each other. But she set the curiosity aside in favor of respect. He didn't like this subject, and it was obvious. Why would he? She understood. She looked skyward, trying to figure out how to say what she felt. She was only eighteen but had left childhood behind long ago. Moments like today on that swoop bike were bittersweet… an instance of wild joy she had tasted very little of in her young years—the years when she'd most deeply longed for adventure and laughter and friendship and exploration, she'd instead learned to fight for her life, live with the enemy, and suppress herself endlessly. "I know we're young, but don't you feel a thousand years old sometimes?" she asked presently, then leaned back against the sloping dome. Overhead, the stars were bright and sparkling.

Din gave a soft, humorless laugh. The sound had great weariness. "Every day."

It was strange to be sitting with a Mandalorian whose face she'd never seen, on a planet she had never heard of six months ago, in a home she never thought she could have… unrestricted, uncontrolled, and sipping tea. She studied her friend Din in the soft orange glow of firelight. Surprising her, he copied her by reclining too. He looked over, and Tala burned with a sudden intensity, craving to know what sort of expression was on his face. "What age did you start wearing that thing, anyway?" she asked after a long deliberation.

"Early adolescence."

"Don't you ever wanna take it off?"

"No."

Tala turned onto her side, propping on her upper arm as her hand supported her face. "But what is it exactly about someone's face that should be hidden?"

"That's just our religion." Din's head turned skyward and Tala realized when she studied closely, she could see obscure stars reflected like blurry freckles of light on his shining helmet. It was a beautiful sight. "Individuality isn't what's important," he continued, oblivious to her more moony thoughts. "Loyalty is. A united front to carry our ideals."

"You can't do that without the helmets?" Tala asked, still finding the concept beyond her grasp and on the irrational, strange side. "Look, I just don't get it. Spouses can't even see each other's faces?"

"No."

Tala deliberated for a moment on the absurdity of the practice. "Well then how do they kiss?"

"They probably don't."

Tala focused on one very interesting word: "Probably?"

"Well I didn't exactly go around asking." Din gave her a look that had to be sassy because his question sure was: "Do you need me to find out?"

Her eyes widened. "Wh—no!" Tala's cheeks and chest burned as she laughed and pushed up to stand, heading to the fire to stoke it and conceal her flaming face. "You're a real bantha's rear, you know that?"

He chuckled, sitting back up too. Then he surprised her: "It's my turn to ask a question." Immediately, Tala was intrigued as she crouched. She had a feeling she knew what he'd ask. She was right: "How do you know about engines? Weapons? Combat?"

Tala poked the fire a few more times than necessary, eyes dodging between the flames and Din's helmet. "You've asked me that before."

"And you've never answered."

It wasn't that Tala didn't want to talk about this with him. It was the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to hold herself together. Already, her eyes were shining and her throat was feeling thicker because she was going to tell him. A single name left her lips, and it was so much harder to say than she had guessed it would be: "Esha." She stood and aimed herself away from him, going to stand at the half-wall overlooking the quiet city. She dug her fingers into the stone ledge, rubbing the texture tensely.

Din shifted. "A what?"

Tala shook her head. Her voice was already wavering. "Not a what. A who." She shut her eyes hard and a tear leaked onto a cheek that she quickly dashed away. In her mind's eye, she saw Esha as she remembered her best: clever, bright, so strong and quick, unbeatable, invincible, endlessly resourceful and kind and tough. "She was my chaperone. Each of us Stryker kids had one. They were… like a private tutor and full-time caregiver, I guess you could say." Tala almost couldn't utter this sentence: "I don't remember life before her. Just after." If anyone had been Tala's mother… it had been Esha, and the memories hurt.

Concentrating on staying composed, Tala explained the basics—it would take days and days to fully describe everything Esha meant. The place she held in Tala's heart. "She taught me things I shouldn't know. Skills and knowledge that were passed to her that she shouldn't have known either. It was for our future liberation, she always used to say. But I loved it. All these things I wasn't supposed to learn, they drew me in. I never felt like I fit in with anyone else but her. She gave me so much." Tala's eyes swam and she shook her head. Behind her, Din was quiet and listening. "When I was ten, she made me vow I could keep a secret… and then told me she was with the underground—women working to overthrow Vorus and claim freedom. That's when I met others like her. In secret places on the space station." Tala remembered stolen hours of training and drills and simulations and education units. Right now, it felt like a fever dream. A different lifetime. "I was the only kid there. We trained like we were going to war." And maybe that had been the plan. Tala still wasn't sure. And maybe never would be, either.

"What happened to her?"

Tala had a hard time staying in thoughts on Esha, and Din's innocent question almost broke her. She continued to talk with her back to him, struggling with her emotions. It felt like if she wasn't careful, grief would choke the life out of her. "Executed for crimes against the family," she breathed hollowly, still destroyed by it three years later. Tears fell despite her best efforts, but her voice managed to stay steady through a few dips and wavers. "They took away the only real friend I had. The only safe person I knew. I was fifteen. And she should still be alive. I don't know how they found out who she was." Her head bowed, her teeth gritted, her fists clenched as hatred boiled her heart and she wondered the same old question as always: was it me? Did I somehow get her caught? It took her a very long moment to gather herself before she spoke again. "I hate Leon Stryker. He took everyone I ever loved away. And being the only one who gets to walk free…" Her voice dropped to a bare whisper as she finally got to tell someone: "I feel guilty."

Din came closer—she could hear his soft footsteps. "I know that feeling."

Tala turned slowly, wondering what he meant by that before realizing she knew exactly. "Your parents?" He nodded faintly. A mixed silence commenced that found Tala's mind wandering and pining. "How did you know they loved each other?" She just needed to hear something nice—something beautiful to soften the ache away.

Din didn't answer for a long few seconds. "They… laughed and smiled a lot. They liked being together." His voice caught ever so faintly. "They held hands when we walked places. You could just tell."

The sweet visuals and affection his words suggested were heartbreakingly poignant—but then Tala frowned, hitting a snag. "Wait. How did you know they were smiling?" She mimed something in front of her face. "With the—the helmets."

Din seemed to think something was darkly amusing. "Trust me. They were smiling."

She could sense something there. Something she'd someday find out about. But for now, she appreciated the opportunity to leave the serious stuff behind. "How mysterious."

It was striking how a turn of a helmet could come across so sarcastic and joking. "I have to keep my image up."

"Mm," Tala agreed, beginning to realize how emotionally drained she felt from what she'd just revisited. She was out of words, and fatigue rolled over like a wave.

Din sighed and looked down, then into the city, then back at Tala in such a way she recognized he was getting ready to make his exit. "I should go."

Nodding, she pulled in a long breath, glad for his timing. "Yes, it's late." Digging deep and putting a little bit of forced energy into herself, she patted the firearm at her thigh. "Thanks again. And announce yourself the next time you come up the stairs, now that I have a blaster that works."

"Will do." He headed for the stairs, got two steps, then turned back around. "One more thing. I'm about to need an extra set of hands soon for the next round of modifications I'll be putting into the Razor Crest. Figured I'd ask my preferred mechanic if she's available for hire."

Tala's eyebrows rose as a slow, genuine smile grew. Briefly, she could forget all the heaviness she felt. "Oh, I'm your preferred mechanic now?" She crossed her arms, enjoying the chance to joke around. "I'll warn you, 'Mando'—I'm pretty expensive. And, I still have no idea what I'm doing."

She heard the softest, briefest chuckle behind his helmet. "You'll hear from me soon."

He began his exit. Tala drifted to the wall adjacent to the stairs and propped her elbows, watching him descend the stairs and head out into the dark street. Her mind felt full of thoughts, but she couldn't quite articulate anything. Had she stayed at her post a second longer, she would have seen him glance back her way. But she'd already turned and headed inside to succumb to exhaustion.

Next Week
The Sparring Club

Sweaty, sore, and satisfied, Tala exited the gymnasium after dark a bit later than most other fighters. Tonight had been a streak of wins, so she was feeling in high spirits… and not paying as much attention as she usually might.

One second she was walking down the quiet city street floating on moments from the night—then the next she was yanked into an alley from behind, being choked painfully with what felt like a metal chain. Whoever had her was tall, and swept her off the ground instantly, leaving her feet to dangle uselessly as her windpipe was rapidly crushed. Gagging silently in an attempt to get a breath in, Tala's brain panicked as she tried to find something, anything to upset her attacker's balance and give her some kind of chance to break the hold. She only had seconds before she passed out—and her vision began to waver as she got zero air and fought with everything she had uselessly. In her ear as she thrashed, a familiar voice she couldn't place: "Your father sends his regards."

No! The world began to go dark as Tala realized she was done for. And then she went suddenly flying in tandem with an explosion of blaster fire. Coughing like mad with hands clutching her wounded neck, Tala gasped and choked and hacked and wheezed even as she tried to get up and run away—then fell back into a cluster of barrels thanks to the lack of oxygen.

In the alley, the guy who'd attacked her was lying dead, his back steaming from several laser hits. From the shadows, a hulking figure came into view—her rescuer. A Mandalorian… but not the one she was used to being rescued by. She wheezed and grimaced in confusion. "… Paz?" She hacked gruffly, the sound so rough and gruesome she wondered if there had been permanent damage to her vocals. Brushing shaking fingers against her neck, she could feel a harsh indent left by the chains.

Paz stabbed a gloved finger at the dead guy a few steps off. "Who was that? Why has this man attacked you?"

Tala froze and flinched at the yelling, and looked at the assassin's body again—then caught sight of his ginger hair and realized why she knew his voice. "He's—he's one of my father's men," she rasped, devastated and frightened. "I—I knew him." It was her brother Ord's old chaperone, Anzil. Leon really had sent an assassin after her. How had he known where to find her?! Total terror descended and Tala began to get paranoid as alarm grew and grew.

Much more composed, Paz made a gruff hmm sound then stalked over to Anzil's body, searched him, and found a small blinking device—some sort of tracker or marker. He grunted his displeasure. "This thing means there's a price on your head," he growled, then crushed it in a macho show of strength that really wasn't necessary: punching it with his other fist two or three times until it was just a bent, sparking bunch of cracked components. He tossed the destroyed device sideways irreverently then bent and heaved Anzil's body up, dumping it into a nearby barrel. He made a fist and keyed his wrist control. Tala ducked and gasped as a thick stream of fire shot out from his wrist. Was he nuts?! He was literally burning a body in an alleyway like it was nothing!

Unbothered, he finished setting the corpse on fire then approached a shakily standing Tala commandingly. "Come with me," he ordered. "You'll be safe underground with us until your husband is back to deal with this." He grabbed Tala by the shoulder and roughly steered her along.

"W-what?!" Ducking out of the hold, Tala walked backward with a cracking voice. She didn't like the husband comment, she didn't like the forcefulness, she just wanted to hide away from this brute and all the other leering Mandalorians who surely hated her too. "No, I don't think so."

Turning to face her straight on, Paz approached by two steps. "Lemme be frank: I don't like you. But because you're Din Djarin's riduur, you're one of us. Or you will be." He sounded absolutely irritated by what he was doing and saying.

Tala's protests were barely audible because her voice was giving out. "The one in charge—! She told me not to come back!"

Paz marched into her space, towering menacingly. "Walk or be dragged!" he bellowed impatiently.

Incensed at the bully theatrics and pumping with adrenaline, Tala decided to speak the language she was beginning to see he preferred: altercations. She hit a grounding stance and her foot shot out, curving to slam heel-first into the back of his knee, causing him to lose his balance. She was already following it up with one of her most powerful attacks: a lightning kick in the chest. Thanks to the element of surprise, he hit the ground back-first like a small tree, and his stunned reaction portrayed disbelief. Obviously, he could pulverize her or even set her on fire… but at least now he understood she had some tricks up her sleeve. Tala now towered over him with a tight face and a lecturing finger. "Don't—yell—at me," she warned in a pitiful rasp, then set her jaw and offered her hand in good faith, her expression silently telling him not to kriff with her again. After a moment's hesitation, he took it firmly and rose to his feet, dwarfing her again—but this time with a slightly improved sense of respect.

"So walking then," he concluded. Tala threw her hands up in defeat, eyeing the flaming assassin over her shoulder with disbelief, confusion, and increasing fear. What choice did she have? A question that was becoming the theme of her life. Her chest constricted as her thoughts began to go doomsday. She turned her mind to repeat the words that had saved her life before and would do so again: Kill your tears. Calm your mind. Focus on your survival. Nothing else can matter. Taking in a bracing breath,Tala grudgingly went with Paz, her shoulders sagging and her spirits low, but her mind made up: she would not live her entire life running from Leon Stryker.

Author's Note: omg this chapter was my favorite! That rooftop scene, sigh. Next chapter you can expect to learn a little more about the sparring club and we'll see what the Tribe thinks of Paz dragging the pesky outsider back in! What I can't wait for of course is for a certain someone to find out that Leon tried it—what do you suppose Din might do about it?! Thanks for reading, and as always, I appreciate reviews. They power the muse-machine haha. Have a great week friends!