Suggested Listening:
Main Title - Marc Shaiman (from City Slickers) | ... road rules
Padre Ramirez - Ennio Morricone (from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly) | ... the client
Billy Bones - James Newton Howard (from Treasure Planet) | ... a broken heart
"Watch out!"
Din yanked me by the elbow, stopping me just before an erratically driving speeder made me into mincemeat.
"Hey, outta the way, lady!" Shouted the Ithorian behind the wheel.
I stared after him, flabbergasted.
"You saw that," I said crossly to Din. "He came out of nowhere!"
"Road rules are really more like guidelines in Mos Espa," he answered, amused. "Haven't you been here before?"
"Actually no," I said as we crossed the street, heading deeper into the center of town. "It always seemed like a risky place to be."
I noted how good it felt to be confident enough to be here now — a feeling only fortified by my company.
I looked up at the kid, who was peering out over Din's shoulder from his carrier with wide-eyed delight and reaching his arm out toward a food cart. He squealed. Din reached back and moved the kid's hand down with his finger.
"No food," he said to him. "Not right now."
"Oh c'mon," I said, watching the kid's big ears deflate in disappointment. "Can't we get him a skewer?"
The kid looked at Din, expectantly. Din stopped and heaved an annoyed sigh.
"Fine," he said begrudgingly, and wandered back to the cart. I smiled to myself as I watched him hand a skewer of spiced meat up to the kid. Then he took two more from the vendor and made his way back to me.
"Here," he muttered, handing one to me. "But don't count on that working every time you do it."
I chuckled, taking a bite and following them.
I hardly ever saw Din eat — he was obviously a very private person, and he tended to vanish for periods of time on the ship, during which I assumed he was bathing, eating, and any other thing that might involve removing his helmet. He never said anything, but I understood that during those times I was to stay in the cockpit and give him space.
Now, I watched him with careful curiosity as he tipped his helmet up ever so slightly — almost inscrutably — to take a bite. I caught the tiniest glimpse of the bottom of a chin and felt a thrill — followed immediately by a crash of guilt for even wondering. Not very respectful to steal glances, I scolded myself in my head.
We arrived at a pub at the far end of a dusty alley. I squinted into the dark as we stepped inside, my eyes adjusting from the bright desert sunlight. As the dingy, dank interior faded into view, I understood immediately why we were meeting here — this client was a bigwig in the gambling world, and this venue was definitely out of the way from his fellow fancy friends.
"Pssssst!"
A hiss pierced the stuffy saloon air. We wheeled around to see a man in a laughably opulent gold vest and cloak sitting in the corner booth alone, waving us over obviously. Din and I exchanged a look before approaching the table.
"Are you Blor?" Asked Din in a low, gravelly voice — his Bounty Hunter voice, I realized with a touch of amusement.
"Shhh," hissed the man, waving for us to sit down. We exchanged another look and sat at the table, facing him. He leaned forward and knit his bushy brows together, seriously.
"Do you have what I asked for?"
Din reached into a utility pocket and pulled out a rag, placing it on the table. He opened one corner and the hot, electric light of the rocks spilled out, illuminating the dim booth. The kid giggled. Blor panicked and grabbed the bundle, closing it back up before anyone else could see.
"Excellent," he breathed, clutching the bag to his chest. He looked from Din to me with a half smile, excitedly. "So, what kind of things were down there? I wanna be able to spin a good yarn, you know — is that from something big?"
Blor pointed at Din's dented helmet, giddily. I looked at Din, practically feeling the eye roll all the way from under the helmet.
"Acid lizards," I jumped in, humoring him. "A whole nest of them. Very dangerous."
"Ohhhoho!" Blor rubbed his hands together. "What else?"
"… And, uh…" I looked at Din and the kid for help, but neither offered me a thing. "Parasites! In the water. You should see our skin under our clothes — positively nibbled-on."
Din looked at me, and I could tell an eyebrow was raised.
"And of course the eels," I continued, getting really creative.
"Eels?" Asked Blor, loving every second.
"Oh yes! Slithering all around down there, the size of three pod-racers each!"
"Oh this is great," He laughed, putting the Dakka Rocks in his bag. "I can't wait to relay all this to the guys — with me as the main character, of course."
"Our payment?" Din's voice was stony.
"Ahh," said Blor, with less enthusiasm. "Of course. I'm so appreciative of your service."
He put a pile of credits on the table — significantly less than I was expecting. Din looked down at it, then back at Blor.
"This isn't what we agreed on." His voice was becoming more dangerous. "We agreed through Peli that the rate was two thousand."
"Ahh," demurred Blor with a clear of his throat. "That doesn't sound right — I mean I appreciate your service, but it wasn't that big of a task — you were only down there for a bit, and they're so small. Twelve-hundred is more than generous." He tossed us a tight smile and moved to stand up, but Din had whipped out his blaster and pointed it at him under the table before he had the chance.
Blor froze, and the color drained from his face.
"Let me be clear," growled Din. "You're going to pay us the agreed upon amount yourself, or we can retrieve it for you."
"Oooookay," I interjected, wrapping my fingers around Din's wrist and pulling his weapon back. "This doesn't have to get salty, gentlemen."
Blor was clutching his bag to his chest and holding his breath, fearfully.
"Look," I said to him with a soft, warm voice, leaning in with my elbow on the table. "I get it. You work so hard for your money, right? It's not just dumb luck, there's a real skill to being a winner, isn't there?"
Blor nodded, gulping.
"I mean, two thousand credits isn't chump change, you want to know that your money is an investment — one that'll pay off, like all those wise bets you make. Right?"
"Yes!" he breathed, sounding relieved that someone understood him.
"Here's the thing, Blor," I reached a hand across the table, inviting him to hold it. He obliged, tentatively. "Is it Mr. Blor?"
"It is Mr. Blor, thank you!"
"Great." I cocked my head and gave him my best, prettiest, most demure smile. "Mr. Blor, you have a reputation for being one of the best guys in Mos Espa, did you know that?"
He shook his head, hanging on every word. Hook, line, and sinker, I thought to myself.
"I mean, I don't want to talk out of school," I looked away, coquettishly. "But the girls in Mos Pelgo, we talk about who we admire over at the races, and you're known to be smart, noble, generous…"
He puffed up in pride.
"So that's what you're investing in," I said, sticking the landing. "Your stellar reputation! I mean, I know we're a little pricy, but I went all the way down into a big, scary cave full of monsters because I knew you deserved the best product." I lowered my voice to a delicate, disbelieving whisper. "Don't you think that's worth two thousand?"
He smiled and raised my hand, dropping a kiss on the knuckles. I winced inwardly and felt my other hand tighten involuntarily around Din's wrist, but outwardly I was the picture of grateful serenity.
"Of course," he said, magnanimously. He released my hand and tossed the remaining credits on the table, sliding them deliberately to me. I placed my hand over them and slid them to Din. Blor's eyes flicked to him and his smile dropped into a resentful scowl.
"I take it that's sufficient?" He muttered.
Din nodded, silently. Blor stood and made to leave, but turned around suddenly to stand at my side. He leaned over me and cleared his throat.
"You wouldn't care to accompany me on a private tour of some of the race tracks, would you? I happen to have some pull here and—"
"Thank you," I said immediately. "But we're called away to another job."
"Ah," he said, dully. "Very well."
He swept out of the bar.
Din turned to look at me, pointedly.
"What?" I said, defensively.
He cocked his head a little.
"I'm just saying," I said, holding my hands up. "There are other ways to do business. You don't need a blaster to get what you need."
"Clearly," he said, his voice thick with dry amusement.
I scoffed, biting back a smile — and a blush.
"Listen, I was a bartender for a long time, okay? I learned that sometimes, the best weapon in your arsenal is to take what they assume about you and let them believe it's true — just long enough to get what they owe you."
"You mean… like how hard they assume it was for you in the 'big, scary cave full of monsters'?" He deadpanned.
"Okay," I rolled my eyes.
"I'm just saying, if I'd known you could do that I would've insisted on more money."
"I'm leaving," I laughed, standing.
"Come on, kid," he joked, following me. "Let's see how many of those skewers she can get us for free."
When we neared the outskirts of town, I started to head back toward where we'd parked the speeder bike, but Din stopped me.
"It's a long ride back to Mos Eisley. We'll stay here tonight. There's an inn down this way."
I looked around at him, immediately conscious of what he was doing.
"Mando, you don't have to shell out for an inn," I protested. "I can camp in the desert, I'm fine."
"I'm tired," he demurred. "And the kid could use a real dinner and a good night's sleep."
Over his shoulder, the kid babbled happily — not an ounce of tiredness in his wide, glossy eyes.
"Uh huh," I said, one eyebrow raised.
"Come on," he commanded, and started walking the other way. I had no choice but to follow.
He got us a room each, and we decided to get settled and freshen up before meeting in the tavern downstairs for dinner. I closed the door behind me and looked around at my room — it was sparse but clean, with a comfortable-enough-looking twin bed and an inviting bath. Most enticing was the wide window that looked over the race tracks and the sprawling desert beyond. I approached it, moving aside the gossamer white curtain and perching on the ledge as best I could. The two suns were beginning to set, pitching the sky into a rich, warm tapestry of reds and oranges. I took my hair out of its braid again and ran my hands through the waves, untangling the knots.
It's unbelievable, I thought to myself, gazing out at the vista. How different my life is today than it was a couple weeks ago.
I bathed — and great galaxy, did it feel good to scrub the week's dust and grime away — and made my way down to the tavern. Din and the kid were already settled at a table, the former standing when I arrived.
"Feels good to be clean," I said, taking a seat.
"I ordered for the kid already," said Din. "But I didn't know what you'd want."
"That's fine, thanks," I said, tossing him a smile. I realized that I was nervous. So far, our work relationship had mainly been centered around being in the throes of imminent danger — or at the very least, being on the move. Sitting here at a restaurant, freshly scrubbed, making small talk felt… awkward.
The waiter appeared and we ordered — the stew of the day sounded palatable — and when he left, we were left again in awkward silence.
"I wanted to give you this," said Din after a moment. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a few credit tiles, placing them gently on the table in front of me.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Your share," he answered, leaning on an elbow. "We didn't discuss exact percentages, but this feels like a good place to start."
I spread the credits with my fingers — he'd given me 200 credits — 10% of his pull.
"You don't have to give me this," I said, shaking my head and sliding it back over to him. "I didn't expect to get payment — you're giving me room and board, transportation and protection. I don't need payment, too."
"You should get more," he continued, matter-of-factly. "But since most of this is going toward repairing the ship, I figure we can work up to it."
I looked at the credits, my shoulders relaxing. I'd had to leave my savings in the saloon back in Mos Pelgo, and there's a certain shameful sense of limitation moving through the world with next to no money. Giving me the chance to earn my independence was a great gift. I swept the credits off the table and put them in the coin purse on my hip.
"Thank you," I said. He nodded, holding my gaze for a moment. Something flipped over in my stomach.
Just then, a familiar voice made my chest ice over.
"Kyra?"
My head whipped around to see Marfa, my old boss, stumbling toward our table with his arms outstretched. Mando's hand instinctively flew to his blaster as his body prepared for conflict.
"Marfa," I breathed, standing.
He didn't look good — his face was always quite ruddy, lending his cheeks a jolly glow, but now his skin was blotchy and bloated. His eyes were bloodshot, and at the moment, full of tears.
"You're alive," he sobbed, his face broken open in hurt and confusion. He took me by the shoulders and peered into my face as though trying to understand if I was actually real. "I thought you burned up, I thought you died, I—"
"I'm sorry," I sputtered, in shock. "I'm so, so sorry."
Din was standing now, his figure coiled in readiness for anything, trying to catch up.
"What happened?" Marfa said, gripping my shoulders a little harder and shaking me — not with violence but with drunken bewilderment. "I don't understand, I—"
His eyes widened and his speech froze as his hand flew up to his neck in panic. I touched his hands and tried to figure out what the hell was happening to him, when I heard Din's urgent voice.
"No! Stop that!"
I snapped my head around in time to see Din grabbing the kid's outstretched hand and pushing it down — he must be causing this somehow, I thought.
"Kid, it's okay!" I cried. "Stop!"
The child released his invisible grip on Marfa, who coughed and sputtered in relief before collapsing into a chair.
The tavern had fallen silent and everyone was staring at us.
"It's okay," I announced, putting on a smile. "It's just, um — he's got allergies! He's okay now."
The crowd's staring dissipated as they struck up conversations amongst themselves — I'm sure about what they had just witnessed.
"I'm sorry, Marfa," I said in a low voice, sitting in my chair and scooting it closer to him. "Are you alright?"
He turned his wide, swollen eyes to me in disbelief.
"No," he quavered, shaking his head. "No, I'm not alright. My business is gone, my home is gone, I thought you were lost in the fire and it was my fault, I— I don't understand what's happening, I…"
The waiter appeared with our food and a glass of water for Marfa. I thanked him and placed it in his shaking hand.
I felt like I'd swallowed a massive stone that was slowly poisoning me, organ by organ. I was wretched with guilt and shame, and furious with myself for not even considering the fact that beyond just losing his business, losing me might have mattered to him.
I knew he felt responsible for me, to a degree — he had given me a job and a place to live and had shown generosity and care when I had needed it most. But it didn't occur to me that if I were to disappear, he would feel any grief. I never thought I mattered to anyone that much — and I realized now that while that could sound noble and self-deprecating to a passing ear, what it actually was was ignorant, impossible selfishness.
I grasped his hands and leaned forward, looking him intently in the eye.
"Marfa, this is my fault. I had to leave Mos Pelgo because I was in danger — someone from my past had come to find me and to survive I had to flee. But they burned down your saloon, and it's my fault. I'm so, so sorry."
He shook his head, trying to understand through the haze of inebriation and pain.
"I won't be on Tatooine long," I continued, unhooking my coin purse again. "But please, please take this."
I pressed the purse into his hand.
"You've given me so much," I lamented, my eyes beginning to brim. I swallowed the hard, painful lump in my throat. "You were the closest thing I had to family since I got here, I'm sorry — I'm so, so sorry that I didn't understand that well enough to take care of you, to protect you."
He shook his head and pushed the purse back at me.
"I can't take this from you," he protested.
"Please, maybe you can put it towards another business! I know it's not much, but—"
"I don't want your money!" He cried, standing indignantly. He swayed a little, the liquor catching up with him. He composed himself, sniffing as a tear spilled over his cheek. "I won't tell anyone back home I saw you. You can stay dead if that's what you need to be to be safe."
With that, he stumbled out of the bar, disappearing into the night. I stared after him, completely destroyed. I heard the kid coo, confusedly, but I didn't dare look at either of them. I knew they were staring at me, and it was excruciating — I felt so much shame, I didn't even want to be seen.
This is why you can't make any connections, I berated myself, silently. Everybody that you let close to you ends up hurt. You are a burden and a time bomb, and your selfishness destroys everyone around you.
"Kyra," Din's voice murmured through his vocoder, tentatively.
I wiped my eyes aggressively with my hand and turned back to the table, stonily.
"Kyra, you did what you had to do—" he began, but I cut him off.
"Where are we going next?"
He was silent for a beat. I couldn't look at him, so I stared into the meal I was never going to be able to eat.
"Nevarro," he said, finally. I was grateful he had decided not to push me any further. "There's an armorer there, she can fix my helmet. And I need a few more pieces of information from some friends there."
"Great," I said, emotionless. I took a sip of water and began pushing my food around, desperate to make the time speed ahead to when I could retreat to my room and exile myself — a solitary confinement in penitence for my crimes, even if just for a few hours.
Din seemed to see that whatever walls I had let down the last few days were right back up. He ate in silence and left me to my thoughts. When we got up to leave, I excused myself and asked the barkeep if Marfa was staying there. When he relayed to me that yes, he was living in the inn for the time being, I asked if there was a mailbox I could leave something in. He pointed me to it and I slipped the coin purse inside, closing it quickly.
We headed up to our floor, silent the entire way. My stomach was in knots as I fell into a thought loop of pathetic self-flagellation - Marfa didn't want your money, you only gave it to him to make yourself feel better. But if you hadn't given it to him, he would never be able to recover from the financial ruin that you brought upon him. But he didn't want it, so you're only trying to ameliorate your own guilt. But…
As we parted ways for our separate rooms, I was snapped out of the spinning wheel for a moment when Din spoke.
"You gonna be okay tonight?"
"Fine," I replied. "I'll see you in the morning."
He hesitated, like he was considering saying more.
"See you in the morning," he echoed, finally.
As I slipped under the covers, gazing out the open window at the spangled velvet swathe of night sky, I made a resolution to myself.
I will never let anyone feel that way again. I will never let anyone care about me enough to miss me.
I repeated it to myself over and over, counting down the seconds until we could leave this town and get off this wretched planet.
Nevarro. I've never been to Nevarro.
Perfect.