Suggested Listening:
Silver Bargains - James Newton Howard (from Treasure Planet) | ...pounding the pavement
Fluffy's Harp - John Williams (from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone) | ... warm in the inn
Goodnight Sweet Possums - John Powell (from Ice Age: The Meltdown) | ...new life (and just because I wanna make y'all cry)
Family Stories - John Powell (from Solo: A Star Wars Story) | ... striking a deal
The job market in this town is an absolute travesty.
… At least that's what I found myself thinking as I walked heavily through the wet slate streets of Trask, my fists balled and my brow knit, scouring the buildings for businesses I might have missed the first three times I'd canvassed the place. Truly, it was a marvel anyone could live here if not a single job for a mostly nice, skilled-at-random-things, non-crazy (depending on whom you asked) girl to apply for was available.
Not to mention, it had begun to rain — and to get dark. I clutched my hood around my chin as a gust shook the few spindly grey trees lining the sidewalk, causing massive blobs of cold water to leap off the silvery leaves and spatter directly onto my head.
Food. Job. Place to sleep.
I had been repeating the mantra in my head with each step. Now, the words were lagging wearily — and so were my feet. I found myself all the way back at the docks where I had started. I scanned the now-empty pier, deliberately avoiding looking at the battered metal heap in the distance. Still here, I guess, I thought to myself. To my right shone the dull red neon of a small sign — the inn. The one that Mando and the kid had gone with the Frog couple.
The truth is, I was in a foul mood — not just because it was wet, I had no leads on a place to stay or any way to make money, and I hadn't eaten since we had shared a few paltry ration bars in the cockpit — but because I was furious at myself. To be specific, one part of me (probably the same little-me part that had sounded wounded and vulnerable in my head earlier) was throwing an absolute tantrum at another part of me. The grown up part. The one that had forced separation from Mando and the kid.
They are the closest thing we've had to real friends since we can remember, agonized the first part. We could've stuck with them, they didn't ask you to leave!
The connection I had felt with them — the sense of commonality, safety, levity that had led me to feel so very comfortable with them in such a short amount of time — had completely thrown me for a loop. I didn't understand how a couple days with a little green child (whose name and species were a complete mystery) and a man — I assumed he was a human man, but who could know — who for all intents and purposes was nameless, faceless, and completely strange to me… could make me feel so at home so quickly. It felt ridiculous. I exhaled a sharp, fiery breath through my nose and clamped down on my jaw, feeling a bit like a petulant child.
I don't have friends, I don't need friends, I just need food, a job, and a place to sleep!
With a huff, I turned on my heel and strode toward the inn. Maybe they were in there, maybe not, but I couldn't let whatever was going on in my head stop me from what might be the last vestige of food and shelter.
As I passed through the door, I was met with an immediate sense of comfort. Lilting, gentle music floated through the air, and the low-ceilinged tavern was illuminated by the cozy orange glow of a crackling fire. I felt my shoulders relax a little as my damp, cold body felt the rush of warm and calm.
A quick scan of the room (not that I was looking) told me that Mando and the kid weren't here. I tried to ignore the immediate sink of disappointment in my stomach, and strode through the tables and surly patrons toward the bar.
"What can I get you?" Asked a Mon Calamari, pouring a frothy ale for a rough-looking Quarren sailor slumped over a bowl of chowder.
"Actually, I'm hoping I can do something for you," I replied, placing my hands on the bar. "I'm an excellent barmaid and I'm looking for a job."
The Mon Calamari put the flagon down carelessly in front of the Quarren, spilling a little froth, then leaned toward me, intently.
"Can you work tonight?"
Half an hour later I was slinging pints and breaking up quarrels like I'd worked there forever. This was a belligerent clientele, these sailors, and I was grateful to my time in a Mos Eisley alehouse for teaching me the best ways to maintain authority in the face of a riotous room. The Mon Calamari — Yerix, I learned, was his name — had hired me, tossed me the dirty rag from his shoulder and the register keys from his pocket, and had slipped out the back — apparently, he had a date he was dying to get to and was so grateful for the opportunity to leave that he would hand over free access to the money in the register. Now that I was serving these unpleasant seamen, I could understand why.
Just as I was wrapping up admonishing a Quarren who made the grave mistake of thinking he could call me "sweetcakes", I heard the door open and my heart leapt into my throat. Mando himself strode into the inn, the kid tucked under his arm looking a little worse for wear. My first thought was excitement, my second a stern word with myself about squashing that excitement, and my third — where's his bassinet?
He didn't see me. Instead, he headed straight for a table, followed by three people in blue armor. It looks like his armor, I thought with a small gasp. He must have found the Mandalorians he was looking for...
I noticed that the three newcomers had their helmets in their hands, while Mando's remained where it had always been. They sat around a table and the statuesque woman with auburn hair caught my eye, holding up four fingers. I nodded and began pouring, swallowing hard. I realized I was nervous, after our dramatic goodbye in the fog, to casually see him again.
They were huddled and speaking in low, intense voices as I approached the table.
"At least you ordered something this time," I murmured to Mando as I placed his ale in front of him. He did a double take, and the kid squealed happily.
"Kyra," he breathed. "You're working here?"
I nodded and placed the rest of the drinks down on the table. The red-haired woman met my gaze with an intense, almost ethereal stare. I immediately found her intimidating and fascinating.
"Thank you," she said warmly. I smiled in response, and she took some coins out of her belt and placed them in my hand.
I nodded at the table, making eye contact with Mando and giving him a small smile before heading back to the bar. I felt his gaze follow me, curiously.
They conferred for a while and I fought the urge to gawk and eavesdrop, instead focusing my attention on the customers at the bar who had been trying to reach their tentacle-ish hands around to fish out a bottle of rum themselves.
After a while, the four Mandalorians stood up abruptly, their chairs scraping the floor as they flew backward. The three in blue grabbed their helmets and headed out the door — the redhead gave me another nod of thanks before she disappeared into the night. Mando picked up the kid and treaded over to me at the bar.
"Hi," I said with a smile. A small part of me wanted to come around the bar and grab his arm or hug them — something to keep a hold on them before they walked away again.
"Hi," He said, coming to a stop at the bar. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Only place in town hiring," I shrugged. "But nothing I haven't done before. Something for you and the little guy?" I turned my attention to the kid, my heart melting a little as he reached his arms out to me, beaming and babbling.
"Actually…" Mando lifted him and placed him down sitting on the bar. He looked from Mando to me and back, his wide green ears swishing. "I need to go on a job. It's not safe for him. Would you watch him for me?"
I was surprised. Mando was asking so plainly — almost like he'd suspected they would stumble upon me yet again — but there was also an urgent note of concern in his voice.
"You want to leave the kid with me?"
"I know you're working, I'm sorry, but it would be a big help," he murmured. "Please?"
"Yeah," I said, gently pinching the kid's toe playfully. "Of course, leave him with me."
Mando put his large gloved hand on the bar, a few inches from my own. I looked up at him, his T-visor too dark to make out anything behind it.
"Thank you," he said intently.
"Any time," I said, and I found that I meant it.
He looked down at the kid, affectionately straightening his collar ever-so-slightly.
"You be good," he said, firmly. Then he pointed at me. "She's in charge, got it?"
The kid squealed in response. Not sure that means he's got it, I thought with a smile. But I'll take it.
Mando straightened and looked once more at me. He gave me a nod of gratitude and left.
I looked down at the kid, perched happily on the bar, and sighed.
"Well, kid," I said. "Wanna learn how to make a Rum Punch?"
The night flew by — the kid was kept happily entertained by the many shiny, oddly shaped objects that can only be found on the shelves of a well-stocked bar, and the customers for the most part behaved themselves. We shared a few snacks and bowls of chowder, my body relishing the satiation of a full meal after days of deprivation. By the time midnight rolled around and I tossed the last few coins from the final departing drinker into the register, I realized I had no idea when Mando was coming back. The Mon Calamari had told me I could sleep in one of the empty rooms upstairs for the night — should I bring the kid up there to sleep? Would it be days?
As I stacked the last of the glasses on the shelf, the Frog Lady appeared at the bar, waving her arms enthusiastically. My face broke in a grin — I had missed her too, in our few hours apart. She croaked, emphatically.
"You… oh, you want us to follow you?" I asked. She nodded, and waved us along. "Okay, we're coming!" I picked up the kid and we followed her to her room off the tavern, where we found her husband crouched down next to the familiar cylinder of eggs. The Frog Lady joined him and gestured for us to kneel down and look closely. Sure enough, one of the eggs had split, and out was emerging a tiny, precious-looking little tadpole. I sat on the floor with my legs crossed and gazed at it in awe. The kid reached up from my lap and reached out a little green hand, his breath fogging up the glass. A noise of wonder escaped his mouth.
"Yes," I whispered into one big ear. "Friends, not food!"
I watched him peer curiously at the little newborn swimming freely and felt a growing feeling overtaking my chest.
I had spent the last six years essentially in hiding — in exile — staying completely still, eschewing all connections, in a mode of complete, stoic survival. Had it been necessary? Maybe. Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't settled in Mos Pelgo, if I'd kept traveling the galaxy and met more people.
But the whole purpose of me running away had been to reclaim and refocus my life — to get away from the place where the only thing I could do was harm, and to find somewhere that I could actually do some good. That little flame of purpose that had given me the courage to escape my old life had gone out somewhere along the way — somewhere between being chased on Naboo without rest for two full days, nearly starving on a Corellian moon, and having to fight my way out of some more unsavory "job opportunities" in Mos Eisley, my sense of hope had been replaced by a heavy, icy spike of fear. And I was sick of it.
"Kyra?" Mando's raised voice calling from the tavern broke me out of my thoughts.
"We're in here," I called back to him, trying not to be so loud that I woke the probably-sleeping guests in the next rooms.
He appeared in the doorway, and the kid let out a gleeful giggle at the sight of him. I stood, lifting the kid with me. Mando greeted the Frog couple, who responded warmly and croaked what appeared to be an invitation to come and sit, but Mando shook his head.
"I appreciate the invitation," he said cordially. "But we have to get going."
I, too, said my goodbyes to the couple, and we made our way back out to the bar.
"Thank you for taking care of him," said Mando. "I hope he wasn't too much trouble."
"Not at all," I responded, a teasing smile playing on my lips. "I put him to work. I hope it's okay that he makes a killer cocktail now."
On cue, the kid babbled and grinned.
We stood there for a moment in silence. I cleared my throat and handed the kid back to Mando, gently.
"Well," he said, looking around discerningly at the tavern. "I hope this place is what you've been looking for."
Another moment passed, then he turned to go. I swallowed hard.
"Actually…" I began. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. "I have a proposition for you."
He turned his whole body back to face me and cocked his head ever so slightly.
"… I'm listening."
"Okay," I continued, determinedly. "I'd like to join your crew."
He just looked at me, inscrutably. Silently.
"I'm good on a ship," I continued, hurriedly. "You've seen me, I know how to keep up. I know how to use tools, I'm resourceful, I'm smart… I make a mean Noonian Fixer…"
I chuckled, hands on my hips, hoping to appeal to him with humor, but as before, he didn't speak, didn't move, just looked at me. I dropped my arms, heavily.
"Look," I said, leveling with him. "Your job takes you to some dangerous places. I can help with the kid. He's only little — yes, he's apparently got some… impressive… and rather mysterious skills of his own… but I think I'm good with him. I think I can help keep him safe, keep him entertained, maybe even teach him a couple things. And…" A lump appeared in my throat and I swallowed it, doggedly. "And I think it would be good for me, too."
I shrugged a little as the silence between us hung in the air, punctuated only by the crackling of the dying flames in the fireplace. Finally, he spoke, his voice as smoky and low as the fire.
"I don't usually travel with a crew."
I looked at him, unsure of what to say next. I didn't want to beg, I had enough dignity to avoid that. Barely, but enough.
"…But I also didn't used to travel with a kid," he continued, looking down at the child. I held my breath. Finally, he looked back up at me. "Okay."
"Okay," I echoed, releasing my breath with a smile.
"On a trial basis," he continued, sternly.
"Of course," I nodded, raising my eyebrows to show that I understood — with only the faintest undertone of mocking. I wished I could see beneath his helmet if his mouth was twitching with any kind of amusement, but he remained a mystery.
"What about your job?" He asked, looking over at the bar.
I followed his gaze and felt the slightest pang of guilt, but then came to an idea. I moved swiftly to the bar, yanked a napkin, and scribbled a note —
Yerix — had to run, long story, sincere apologies. Consider tonight's shift working for my supper.
"There," I said, placing it on the bar and locking the register before returning to Mando.
"Lets go," he said, and turned to depart. I followed, pulling my hood back up as we headed out into the damp night.
"Hey, what happened to the bassinet?" I asked him as the door closed behind us.
"It got eaten," he said, dully, and began taking long strides across the dock.
Sure, I thought to myself. Because why would that need any followup information?
Back in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, which had been basically taped back together by the Mon Calamari mechanic — "How much did you pay him?" "mumble mumble" "How much?" "A thousand credits." "HOW MUCH?" — I bit my lip to contain the swell of excitement I felt as I strapped into my seat.
We shakily levitated into the thick, foggy air. Mando steered us up and up, through the clouds and out of the atmosphere. He plugged in some coordinates and with a flip of a switch we shot into a hyperspace lane, the stars stretching around us like taffy.
"So since I'm going to be helping with the little guy," I looked over at said little guy, who was already falling asleep in the other passenger seat. "You gonna tell me his name?"
"I, um…" Mando pressed a few more buttons on the dash, then looked over his shoulder at the kid. "I don't know his name."
"Oh…" I looked from Mando to the sleeping baby and back. There had been a faint sadness in his voice.
"Since you're going to be helping out with the little guy," he echoed, spinning around in his chair to assess me. "You wanna tell me what you've been running away from?"
I stiffened. Even through his black T-visor, I could feel his unwavering stare. For a split second, I considered telling him, but instead I met his eyes steadily and answered.
"No."
His head tilted back ever so slightly.
"But," I continued. "I promise not to make it your problem."
He considered me a moment longer, then turned back around in his chair to face the viewport.
"I'm not sure thats a promise you can make," he said, and I thought I detected the smallest flicker of a smile in his voice.
I settled back into my seat, that same sense of peace I'd felt before sneaking back into my chest.
"So," I said wryly. "Where to next, boss?"
A chuckle rumbled through his vocoder.
"Look," he said, a definite smile this time. "… don't be mad."