Poe's ball-astromech stared at him for the entire journey. Cassian presumed this was its version of silent treatment – he had been adamant BB-8 stay with him. It was a calculated move on his part: Poe was insistent on returning to his own time, and he might just attempt to escape to avoid going backward with Cassian. The spy was banking on his staying put to reclaim his droid, but in the event the bond between them was something Cassian's tired mind had simply conjured out of nothing and Poe attempted to leave without the astromech, then BB-8 alone would serve as information for the Rebellion well enough.
Poe hadn't taken Cassian's move well at all. The Mandalorian, as always, remained utterly silent as K-2SO dragged the X-wing pilot off his ship.
Their trip to a planet several parsecs away from Geezor was fraught with silence. The reprieve of conversation allowed Cassian to bask in the searing pain in his back, shoulders and neck. It was something he clung to; a grounding force in this otherwise ludicrous situation. He had tried to use it to sink into sleep. He had no idea where the Mandalorian was taking him, or even when they might get there. But rest eluded him.
During their trip, BB-8's little antenna stuck out as it attempted to scan the Mandalorian's ship, but it was promptly scolded by the bounty hunter. In fact, any time BB-8 moved even an inch out of place, the Mandalorian hissed at it. The spy couldn't determine whether it was just a reaction to a foreign droid on his ship, or whether it was something deeper. If he had to guess, he would have picked the latter.
Cassian wondered if it had attempted to contact Poe. Poe did have an X-wing, even if it was damaged. What were the chances he could repair it in record time and come take BB-8 back by force?
Low, Cassian mused. Once Poe completed his repairs, K-2SO would likely place him back under arrest until Cassian returned. Poe might have been quick on his feet, but he hadn't directly dealt with Kaytoo.
Finally, after what felt like hours, BB-8 whistled his broken binary. They were approaching a planet.
Lothal.
Cassian's eyebrow crinkled upward. He made a show of leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees as a pained hiss escaped his teeth. "Why Lothal?" he asked the Mandalorian.
The answer that emitted from the helmet was short and curt. "A contact owes me a favour. She may have a ship for you."
"Owes you?"
The Mandalorian ignored him, and all pretence of conversation dropped once more.
The ship landed on a wispy brown surface, kicking up dust under the engine's vacuum. Lothal appeared to be bred from the same material as Geezor. Its fields bore pale yellow wisps that leaned in unison at the slightest puff of wind.
They'd landed right next to a large tower – communications, maybe. It'd seen some renovations recently, a miscoloured metal platform added just a storey high from the ground that served as the deck for a door.
The Mandalorian rose from his chair. Cassian half-expected him to drawl some order to stay put, but he remained silent (as expected). Curiosity powered Cassian's movements, fuelling his ability to get out of his chair. Every muscle in his torso protested. At least his legs were still able to carry his weight.
He followed the armoured man silently. The wind kicked at the back of his jacket, dust blowing across his eyes. A highway led itself into town, though it was devoid of any traffic or signs of life.
His knowledge of Lothal was exhaustive, but he was certain it used to be more populated.
"It's polite to call ahead before landing here."
The spy looked up to find two blasters trained at them from above. Their wielder was a woman who stared down at the men with narrowed honey brown eyes, a slight grin trained across their lips. Gold and white tints peeked through her black hair, clipped short around the ears with a long fringe pushed across to the side.
The longer Cassian stared, the longer he recognised Mandalorian features. Along with her suspiciously unique blasters, she wore a minimal armour set, including a chest plate marred with splotches of paint. He'd bet credits it was beskar. The corner of Cassian's mouth twitched downward.
"Figures you would take us to another Mandalorian…" Cassian muttered, raising his hands carefully.
The Mandalorian (Cassian's Mandalorian) turned to peer at the spy for a moment. If Cassian hadn't known any better, he would have said he was being judged. "This man needs your assistance," he called to their 'host'.
"Yeah? What kind of assistance?"
"A ship. One you're prepared to part with permanently."
The black-haired Mandalorian twirled the blasters before replacing them into their holsters. Cassian lowered his hands. "What have you dragged to our doorstep?"
Before the Mandalorian could explain, Cassian stepped forward. "What do you know about temporal anomalies?"
The grin on her face dropped to reveal something more… knowing. She raised her chin, crossing her arms. "I know enough."
"Then you know if people were here from the past or the future, they'd need to return home immediately."
Her eyes regarded him for a moment, thumb tapping against her upper arm. Cassian glanced to the other Mandalorian, but he, too, was locked in a solemn stare with their host.
"I'll give you a ship," she finally stated. "But while you're a fish out of water, you stay in my sight for as long as you're on Lothal. Not that you'll be here for that long, anyway."
"Yes." Cassian agreed.
"That goes for you too, Mando," the woman turned, pressing a keypad to open the door. "Come on up. Let's talk about how you're getting back."
The Mandalorian - now 'Mando', apparently - gave a quiet hmph. He brushed past Cassian, approaching the ladder with the spy in tow. But there were still so many unanswered questions.
"Who is she, Mandalorian?" Cassian asked.
"Right now, she's a friend."
Vague, but his tone held enough information for Cassian to make some theories. He doubted the idea she was an old flame of some kind - their exchange seemed too terse for that, too brief. Yet her voice, while casual, had been littered with sarcasm. So she has held a conversation with him, productive or otherwise. Maybe they encountered each other during a conflict? Mando hadn't seemed very phased by being on the dangerous side of her blasters...
But earlier, Mando said she owes him.
What have you dragged to our doorstep?
Our doorstep? Cassian frowned as he climbed the ladder behind Mando. The implication was this woman wasn't alone, yet she was taking responsibility for their arrival.
His neck spasmed as he pulled himself up onto the deck, and he dug his fingers into the muscle.
He couldn't shake the feeling he was missing something important.